“Where d’you think he went?” asked Mally as she and Lita mopped the great hall. After they had delivered Archie his mushrooms, Meriyal had pressed mops and buckets into their hands.

“I don’t know,” Lita replied, sloshing her mop about carelessly. “He doesn’t exactly share his plans with us over tea.”

“But I had no idea he had gone,” Mally continued. “If the king leaves, wouldn’t everyone be notified?”

Lita chuckled.

“Everyone? Don’t you mean the court? We lowly servants are just expected to keep everything clean and warm. Meriyal probably knew. Shame she didn’t think about sharing the good news with us.”

“I wonder when he’s going to arrive.” Mally glanced at the huge wooden doors, expecting them to burst open any second. Molick scared her. She felt more at ease now that she was no longer being watched, but Molick had put her on edge.

“AHHHHHHHHH!”

Mally and Lita spun around. Lita’s mop knocked into the bucket of soapy water sending bubbles and suds flying. They stared, open mouthed as Gerda tumbled down the giant staircase. Mally and Lita rushed up it and reached her just as she managed to stop herself. Books, parchment, and ink were scattered all over the stairs.

“Are you all right?” asked Mally, bending down to help Gerda up.

“I-I think so—oh!” Gerda tried to stand fully before grasping the banister. “My ankle. I don’t think I can stand on it!”

“What’s going on?”

Mally looked up and saw Christopher descending the stairs at a run.

“Gerda fell.”

“Look at this mess!”

All four of them turned and saw Meriyal standing aghast at the bottom of the stairs, the hem of her dress wet from the large pools of spilt water. She caught sight of the littered staircase, ink slowly dripping over the edge of one stair, and her glare deepened.

“Gerda fell, Meriyal,” said Mally quickly, sensing an impending explosion.

“Fell?”

Lita took a step back to bring Gerda into Meriyal’s view.

“I was carrying too much,” Gerda cried angrily as Meriyal climbed the stairs to them. “I couldn’t see—I must have missed a step.”

“Her ankle’s hurt,” said Lita.

Meriyal’s piercing gaze swept over Gerda before she ordered, “Christopher, Mally, take her up to Gladys. Lita, help me clean this mess.”

Mally and Christopher supported Gerda between them, and they slowly climbed the stairs and helped her hobble to the fifth floor.

“Stupid. Stupid mistake,” Gerda kept repeating vehemently under her breath.

“Almost there, Gerda,” said Christopher as they rounded a corner and made their way down the corridor with high arching windows.

“Gladys!” Mally yelled as they entered the sickroom. “GLADYS!”

There was a clatter and Gladys emerged from a room in the far back.

“What is it?” she asked, rushing to them as Mally and Christopher lowered Gerda onto a bed. After they had explained what had happened, Gladys closely inspected Gerda’s ankle before saying, “Twisted. You’re staying with me for a while, dear.”

“Twisted?!” Gerda exclaimed. “But I have to serve tonight!”

“Betty can serve,” said Christopher firmly.

Gerda moaned in a mixture of frustration and pain.

.

.

The next morning, Mally and Lita went to the sickroom to check on Gerda. But upon arrival, they found Gerda already surrounded by Nathan, Joan, and Betty. Mally and Lita took seats on Gerda’s bed.

“Are you in much pain?” asked Mally in concern, for Gerda was frowning unpleasantly.

“Not terribly now, no,” said Gerda. Then she stared down at the porridge in her hands and her mouth twisted.

“You need to eat it,” said Nathan.

“But I hate porridge.”

Nathan smiled like he was sharing a silent joke with Gerda. She returned the smile slowly. Lita coughed loudly.

A faint blush rose in Gerda’s cheeks and she quickly turned to Betty.

“I hope serving those louts wasn’t too bad.”

“Not any worse than I would have expected,” said Betty. “Molick spent the whole time babbling about the weather in Halspeare.”

“Halspeare?” Mally exclaimed.

Betty, Nathan, and Gerda looked at her in surprise.

“Yes, that’s where he’s been,” said Betty.

.

Shortly after, they left Gerda to begin their duties, but Mally could barely concentrate. There couldn’t be any other reason for him to go to Halspeare so soon after questioning her. But why hadn’t she been roused from her bed upon his arrival? Why wasn’t she being dragged to the dungeons for lying to the court?

She was a nervous knot as she and Lita set about polishing statues on the floor of the Great Hall. Lita hadn’t said a word to her since they had left the sickroom. Perhaps she sensed the wave upon wave of tension radiating off Mally and didn’t want to get too close for fear of catching whatever was plaguing her.

Mally lowered her rag and stared at the statue of King Julian. Up above her ran the second floor where more busts sat on more stands, their stone eyes staring blankly over the banister into the great hall below.

Mally’s shoulders tensed suddenly as she heard a pair of boots walking up behind her. Was it Molick? Was it a knight? She couldn’t bring herself to look.

“MALLY! WATCH OUT!”

Mally looked up just as she was yanked away. There was an earsplitting crash, panicked yells, and booming orders for silence. Mally blinked her eyes and looked up at the person holding her tightly—her stomach dropped.

“Are you all right?” asked King Salir.

For a moment, Mally merely stared and his grip on her arms tightened painfully.

“Are you—”

“Yes,” Mally gasped breathlessly. “Yes, Your Highness. I-I think I am.”

He released his hold and took a step around her. She turned to see what he was looking at and felt the floor under her tilt. Where she had been standing seconds before were the ruined remains of a statue.

“Are you all right?”

This time it was Lita gripping her elbow. With difficulty, Mally dragged her eyes away from the wreckage and stared into Lita’s wide, frightened ones instead.

“The bust of King Lumpkin,” said King Salir quietly, but everyone in the great hall heard him clearly. Everyone watched him as he picked up what appeared to be a stone nose. He looked up to where the bust had fallen. The banister on the second floor ran some twenty feet overhead and leaning over it were Christopher, Nanette and Sir Anon.

“It must have fallen off its stand, Your Majesty,” Nanette yelled down, looking just as white as the stone’s remains.

“Mally, are you okay?” called Christopher.

“Yes,” she replied shakily.

“This stand, sir,” came Sir Anon’s voice, slightly muffled as he was inspecting its legs, “the legs are off balance. Very wobbly.” He straightened. “It looks to me like it was only a matter of time before the bust fell.”

“Thank you, Sir Anon,” King Salir replied. “If someone could clean this, and then I would appreciate it if all stands holding statues were inspected”—his eyes shot to Mally—“I don’t want this to happen again.”

There was a great murmuring of agreement and a frantic scurrying to clean the mess. King Salir walked up to Mally.

“That must have been a shock,” he said. “You’re new here, are you not?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Forgive me. I’ve been a terrible employer.” He gave a slight bow. “Come.”

Mally stared stupidly. Lita pushed her slightly and Mally, her feet tripping over themselves, followed King Salir out of the great hall.

She didn’t know what to do, what to say. Thanks for saving my life? Because if he hadn’t pulled her out of the way—if she had been hit—

She couldn’t think about it. Her stomach turned queasily at the mental images. It was much, much better not to think about it.

The king didn’t say anything as they walked through the castle. He didn’t even look at her. She had no idea where he was taking her or why. Then, on the fifth floor he stopped before a large lavishly engraved door. Mally’s heartbeat quickened.

“I believe a drink would do you good,” King Salir said, opening the door to his chamber for her. “You are much too pale.”

Mally couldn’t imagine refusing, so she entered. The first thing that caught her eye was two large portraits. She knew who they must be even though she had never seen them before: King Sebastian and Queen Amara.

“Do you like them?” asked King Salir, following the direction of her gaze. “They were painted by a very acclaimed artist.”

“Yes, very much, Your Majesty.”

Mally took a step toward them. King Sebastian had a pronounced face with a short beard. His light brown hair hung in curls about his kind yet stern face. Queen Amara, on the other hand, was pale and delicate, her face a pleasing oval. Her pink lips formed a small smile that made her look like she knew a joke or secret. There was a tinkling of glass and Mally turned to see King Salir pouring wine into two glittering goblets.

King Salir smiled.

“Your wine” he said, passing it to her.

The presence of the two portraits had triggered a question in Mally’s mind, but she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to ask it. King Salir seemed to notice the indecision upon her face and asked, “Yes?”

“I was wondering why there are no other portraits of the late king and queen in the castle, Your Highness,” said Mally.

“There were others, but after the deaths I felt it would be easier for the people to move on without their presence. These are the only two still displayed. Why don’t you sit?” King Salir himself took a seat.

Mally sat in the chair opposite him, her eyes roaming the giant chamber. The room was huge. A chandelier hung in the center of an intricately painted ceiling. The suite seemed to include a number of other rooms. Mally and His Majesty were in a sitting area, and Mally could see other doors to other chambers.

She took a sip of her wine simply to occupy herself. A large tapestry of a king and queen, sitting on their thrones before their kneeling subjects hung behind King Salir. He was watching her. The room suddenly felt hotter and Mally shifted in her chair uncomfortably.

“Miss…?”

“Biddle,” Mally supplied quickly, “Mally Biddle.”

“Biddle. Ah, yes, I remember Meriyal mentioning you to me.” He took a sip of wine. “I do apologize for not welcoming you sooner—I am rather busy.”

“There is no apology necessary, Your Highness,” said Mally, happy that the conversation had started.

He tilted his head and looked at her curiously.

“Mally—what is it short for?”

“Mallory.”

“Ah,” he nodded, twirling his glass. The deep ruby red sparkled like liquid diamonds through the glass goblet. “So, Miss Biddle, did you enjoy meeting our Captain of the Knights?”

Mally choked on her wine.

King Salir smiled.

“Sir Illius has a talent for blocking the windpipe, doesn’t he? He was not pleased to be left so long in the dark about your presence. I am assuming he made the customary threats?”

The king’s expression was so humorous that Mally was having a difficult time remembering whom she was talking with. Would she get in trouble if she answered truthfully?

“Sir Illius asked his questions, Sire,” Mally finally said before taking a hasty sip.

“I hope you are finding your lodgings comfortable?” King Salir inquired.

Mally thought of the tight, cramped space that she, Lita, and Gerda shared. How tiny their fireplace was. How thin her mattress and sheets.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

King Salir nodded, pleased.

“You have recovered from your fright?”

“Yes, Sire, thank you.”

“Then I will allow you to return to your work.”

Mally placed the glass of wine that she had barely sampled on the table between them and left. She couldn’t keep her legs from shaking.

.

.

“How’s the ankle?”

“Terrible.” Gerda was still laying on one of the sickbeds, gazing up at Mally and Lita moodily. “Been throbbing all day.”

“But Gladys says you’ll be back next week,” said Lita happily. “So enjoy the relaxation!”

Gerda snorted.

“You mean boredom. But from what I’ve heard,” said Gerda, looking at Mally sideways, “I could have had you for company.”

“Maybe not,” Mally replied darkly. “If that bust had hit me, I’d be dead.”

“It was horrible, Gerda,” said Lita with a shiver.

“How did it happen?” Gerda asked, sitting up a little straighter. “The stand was wobbly?”

Mally nodded.

“If you put your hand on it, it jerked and twitched all over the place,” said Lita. “Mally and I checked it when she came back from His Majesty’s chamber. I’m surprised nobody had noticed it before.”

“Which bust was it?” asked Gerda, frowning slightly.

“King Lumpkin,” Mally answered.

Unable to help herself, Lita moaned in false despair, “May Lumpy rest in peace!”

Mally rolled her eyes. Then she noticed Gerda’s frown.

“Why do you ask?”

Gerda glanced down the long room, making sure they were alone before saying in an undertone, “Because the day I fell, I put that pile of books and parchment on it to retie my hair. The stand didn’t twitch, Mally.”

“Are you sure it was King Lumpy’s?” asked Lita dubiously.

“Am I likely to forget his ridiculous wig?” Gerda asked. “I remember rolling my eyes at it when I picked all the books back up.”

“So if the stand was sturdy, how did the legs suddenly get unbalanced two days later?” wondered Mally.

Gerda and Lita glanced at each other, looking just as puzzled as Mally.