STAYNE Part 1. Chapter 3

The Red Queen was in such misery.  She was taken to a pretty, little safe haven upon the mountainside beyond her palace.  And so it was for five years:  Her Majesty would retreat to the hot springs at the far side of the dusty canyon for about seven weeks at a time.  When she was not resting in her sanctuary, she would reside in the castle, carrying out her business, groaning about her head, etc.  

Ilosovic and Fiore were, at first, invited by the Queen to join her.  It was a truly, truly lovely place to rest.  The hot springs had frothy, emerald water that smelled of caramel candies.  The rocks around the place were dusty red, like all of the hills.  

"My sister has no place as fine as this place."  The Queen boasted one morning.  She wore loose fitting linens and had her ruby hair put up very tightly.  Two very strong attendants (who Ilosovic guessed were squires or, perhaps, guards who were not stationed in the palace) supported the Queen's throbbing head.  They cradled her cranium with care and did not speak one word.  Only the Queen's head rested in the warm water.  Her shoulders and the rest of her laid on the row of pillows that had been placed on the flat rock for her.  The steam rose around her face, which was without much powder (she looked younger, actually), for the heat had melted it all from her nose.  

Ilosovic sat in Fiore's moist palms.  The young lady in waiting stood beside the soldiers and had lifted the boy so that the Queen could see him properly and speak to him.  Her arms got tired very often but she didn't mention that to the Queen.  

"You know, Ilosovic," The Red Queen would say, "my sister would have no where to retreat if this had befallen upon her…"  

The Red Queen's sister was, as Fiore had informed Ilosovic, The White Queen.  Her name was Mirana.  She was a few years younger than Iracebeth, however, she currently ruled Underland.  Ilosovic did not understand why…

"The people adore her."  Explained Fiore in a quiet little voice one night, peering through the bars of Ilosovic's cage.  "They decided they'd much rather follow the White Queen…"

"But why?" Ilosovic questioned from his seat on his tiny bed,

"I've never lived outside the palace," the girl said, glancing over her shoulder to be sure that the King or Queen was not stirring beyond the velvet curtain, "so it's all just what I have heard.  The White Queen is said to be far gentler…"

"Who would prefer a gentle ruler to a smart one?"  

"People don't like to be afraid of their Queens, I suppose.  You must admit,"  Fiore said, her voice below even a whisper, "that The Red Queen is rather terrifying sometimes.  It gives me gooseflesh all over when she looks at me in a certain way, in that very stern way…"

"I suppose."  Ilosovic shrugged, not letting on how awful and horrible he knew the Queen's dark eyes to be,

"And the White Queen has taken vows, I hear," Fiore continued, "to never harm a single living creature.  People admire that more, I believe, than someone who takes the head from one member of her court ever week or two…"

"Can the Red Queen ever rule again?"

"It doesn't seem likely, does it…"

"No…"  Ilosovic admitted, giving a great yawn.  Fiore smiled at the little boy though the bars,

"Are you very tired?"

"A bit…"

"You look like you are about to fall right over."  And she moved around the cage to the edge of the balcony to peer across the stretching courtyards below to gaze up at the looming clock tower.  He watched Fiore as she walked.  Her thin hair was combed by the autumn breeze and her dress made the faintest swish swishing noise when she moved.  He thought that noise was rather annoying.  "Goodness,"  she said to herself, seeing the time on the clock tower across the fortress , "It's nearly one o'clock…"  and she turned again to the boy in the cage, "You had best get to bed…"

"I suppose we both should." She knew he would want her to stay by his side until he had fallen deeply asleep (though she never, ever expected him to admit that, especially not since he had just turned a year older).  He often mentioned a peculiar cat that pestered him some nights…

Ilosovic slid into his bed and drew the silky handkerchief-sheets up to his little chin.  Fiore had already put out the candles on the balcony.  Ilosovic stared at the ceiling of the cage,

"Goodnight, Ilosovic."

"Goodnight."

But she would ask him a question after a few minutes of him just gazing upwards into the blackness,

"Do you miss your family, terribly?"

"No, " He lied, "I do not."

"I miss mine," She paused, "on occasion."

"Well I have no reason to miss mine.  My parents were very nasty and my horrible brother was even worse…"  It was strange for Ilosovic, saying 'were' and 'was' about his family instead of 'are' and 'is'.

"Oh?" came Fiore's slim, feathery voice,

"Nine years older than me." Ilosovic explained, "Mum and dad couldn't pay for my schooling two years ago because they sent my brother to the finest academy...And they arranged a marriage for him when he was just two years old and I would have had to find somebody wealthy to marry on my own because the only girls, besides my brother's wife, that my parents knew, were my cousins.  I certainly would not have courted one of them…And my mum was very strict.  My father was even stricter …but my brother was the worst because he was always so nice to me.  I never had a true excuse to get him into trouble or hate him.  And so I hate him for that…I think."

"I am very sorry…"

'It has all worked out for the better.  They don't want to care for me and I could care less about them.  And now, well,"  he smiled to himself, "this is like a dream…"

The boy and the girl were very quiet for a little while until…

"Do you suppose," speculated Ilosovic, his eyelids drooping.  The pillow felt wonderfully soft under his pale cheek, "that the Queen feels about her sister the way I feel about my brother?"

"I would guess it is awfully similar, Ilosovic." She noted while the boy yawned,

"I feel very badly for her then.  I would be very mad if my brother were made king and I were not…" He turned over in his bed and shut is eyes.

"Perhaps that is why she is so very scary at times, hm?"  And when no one answered her, Fiore looked over at the golden cage to see the small boy asleep and then, she moved to the balcony.

She took the railing in her fingers and leaned a bit over the edge to peer off into the inky shadows.  Her pale eyes scanned the darkness far below the balcony.  Suddenly, Fiore stood straighter.  She glanced over her shoulder at the boy, the red curtain…and then, the lady in waiting rose up on her tiptoes to wave to someone in the yard.  And Fiore whirled, her steps most quiet and her skirts swish swishing.  Without a word, the lady in waiting hurried away beyond the velvet veil for the evening.

The Queen, eventually (after three years or so), no longer brought Ilosovic or Fiore to her remedial haven on the mountainside.  She never gave an explanation as to why and Ilosovic and Fiore dared not ask.  Fiore did not seem to mind this so much as Ilosovic did.  He  was always thinking of how the Cheshire Cat would smile at him if it got word.  

But, Ilosovic's fears about being forgotten like a kitten who had grown to old were quelled one day when Fiore and he stood as the Red Queen returned home from another month long retreat upon the back of one of her shining horses (sitting in front of a guard who was keeping her, at this point, gargantuan head from tipping).  The little boy and the young lady were waiting in the gardens for the monarch, along with the rest of the haughty court.  The moment the Queen dismounted the horse (with the help of two attendants), she gave a smile to the crowd.  King Alpheus approached her and kissed his wife's hand.  Iracebeth exchanged a few soft sentences with her husband and then spotted Ilosovic,

"I need Ilosovic."  She said, holding out her hand.  It was the first time she had asked for him in months.  Fiore lifted him by his middle and set him in the white glove of the Queen.  His chest tightened.  This sounded awfully important, "I must have the librarian meet me in the Florarium. " The Red Queen said to her advisor, a grey haired man named Circeo. She moved close to him to speak.

Ilosovic was no longer familiar with riding upon the back of the Queen's gloved hand and he clung to her finger, trying to relearn how one should sit.  When he looked up, the boy saw the lady leaning ever so near to her grey-haired advisor's ear, "And he must bring every tome I own that has to do with…" She covered her mouth with her other gloved hand.  And the Queen spoke of the subject of the books she required so quietly (Ilosovic felt a gust of air wash over him when she lifted her arm so quickly) that the boy and anyone else in the garden were left entirely clueless as to what it was.  

"Of course."  Circeo nodded and with a glance down at Ilosovic and sweep of his trailing cloak, began off across the garden towards the castle,

"Shall I attend to you, Your Majesty?" asked Fiore, starting to trot off after the Queen.  Iracebeth stopped for a moment to consider,

"I must say…mmm…no.  No, no, Fiore.  I shall send for you when we have finished."

The Florarium a sort of greenhouse, it seemed, but one very unlike Ilosovic had ever seen (though, in Underland, he had come to expect that things simply became stranger and stranger).  It had glass walls that were tinted amber and the light inside was hot and it boiled the air.  The moment she stepped within the space, Ilosovic could see the powder on the Red Queen's face moisten with a bit of sweat.  

"I have missed you, Your Majesty."  Ilosovic told her honestly, looking up at her as they strode around a monstrous plant that had angry orange thorns that curled up at strange angles.   

"Mhm,"  The Queen said, preoccupied , "I've missed you, too."  Then, she turned a corner.  

Ilosovic squinted. This section of the Florarium was flooded with the amber sunlight.  When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw that they were approaching a lovely, oak table with a shining surface,  "Here, Ilosovic."  And she set him down amongst vials and shining containers of herbs and juices,

"What's this, Majesty?" The table was polished so well that his shoes nearly slid out from underneath him,

"I will tell you."  The Queen said, her speech quick, "You are going to help me…" And she could not turn her huge head to see who had come in when the doors to the beautiful doors opened and shut at the other side of the Florarium.  Ilosovic saw, though.  

The librarian was a portly man, with shiny spectacles that, at the moment, rested on the tiptop of his head and wrinkles folding over his brow and beneath his beady eyes.  He wove his way through the rows of kaleidoscopic greenery and finally approached the Queen.   He had his arms folded across his chest and pressed to his belly, he carried a stack of five or so leather bound books.

"Majesty."  He said, bowing low.  Now, Ilosovic noticed, the Librarian was accompanied by a fish, who wore absolutely enormous, shining glasses.

"Majesty."  Said the fish in the same tone.  The Queen turned, shifting her entire body to speak to her servants.  She raised her thin eyebrows,  

"The books?"

"Yes?"

"Good.  On the table."  The Queen ordered.  The Librarian, of course, obeyed.  "Be careful of Ilosovic!"  The Queen scooped up the boy so quickly that he yelped a little, most unsure of what had just happened.  "You imbecile!  You could have very easily crushed him!"

"Forgive me, your majesty!  I did not see him!"

"Then, your glasses, sir!  Certainly you know what spectacles are for.  And your eyes even!  If you do not use them, I shall consider having them put out of your head and put into the Jubjub bird's next salad..."  The Queen was squeezing Ilosovic tight,

"No!  Majesty, forgive me.  You must understand,"

"Must?  Must I?" She set Ilosovic down rather forcefully.  His knees buckled when he hit the table,

"Please understand," The librarian begged, his voice echoing off the glass walls, "Your Majesty, I assumed the boy was not here.  I would have looked…however, I was under the impression that the boy did not know..."

"He still does not.  Don't you dare assume a single something.  It's why little boys get squashed.  It's why I lose my temper.  And it's how people lose their heads, sir."   The Queen said while Ilosovic wondered and wondered what it was that he 'did not know'.  The fish, who gulped before speaking finally voiced,

"Your Majesty,"  he looked up at the steaming Queen,

"What?"

"Shall I fetch a magnifying glass?"

"Three of the best."  The Queen said, opening up the biggest book and then turning to the trembling Librarian, "Hold it up.  I don't want to bend over."  The man lifted the dusty volume, "Don't hold it so shakily."

"Shall I fetch a healer?" the fish suggested in his warbling voice,

"A healer shall do nothing for me.  I need a Master of Potions and we have no such thing."

"Your Majesty, could-could you not ask your sister to aid you in this?"  Ilosovic held his breath as the fish went on tentatively, for only the boy could see the gory red pigment that had begun to creep into the Queen's pale cheeks at the mention of Mirana.  "It would not be a weakness, in the least.  You could perhaps, if you would, exploit her abilities, Your Majesty…She is skilled in this art, so I've heard…"  And the Red Queen turned to the fish,

"You have clearly lost your mind…" She took in a deep breath, "And so you shall lose your head!  How dare you suggest such a thing!"

"Your Majesty, I only wished…"

"You will be executed tomorrow.  Be gone."  Then, she glared at the Librarian, "See him to the dungeons…"

"Oh, please! Oh please!  I only meant…."  The fish begged while he turned, "Master Doolius!"  He gasped, going near to his friend, the Librarian, "No!"

"If he is not in a cell, bound and miserable when I decide to visit him later today, Master Doolius, it will be you who looses his head."  The Queen said tartly, lifting her nose,

"Your Majesty…"  the Librarian bit his lower lip and then exhaled, "As you command.  Come, Wenston."  The fish squealed and dropped to the floor.  He flopped about wildly,,

"Pick him up by the tail. "  The Queen suggested, glaring at Wenston the fish, "It will make things far easier."  And the man picked up the crying thing by his tail.  The fish's round glasses fell off of its nose and came to rest on the ground with a sad clink.  The Librarian, his doomed assistant in tow, strode off and around the shelf of potted plants.

Ilosovic took this moment to glance at the open book on the table.  It was resting at a page with tiny, tiny print.   Suddenly the Queen called to the Librarian, who was already to the door,

"And send for a squire to bring us some magnifying glasses!"  When the Queen turned back around to face the table, the wailing of the fish still reverberated off the amber glass of the Florarium until the glass door was closed.  

"And now I have no one to hold my book…"  the Queen whined, adjusting her sleeves,

"I could try."

"No, no, Ilosovic." Said the Red Queen, "Just wait a moment.  I can do this, I believe."  And she could.  The lady braced herself, putting one hand down to grip the edge of the table and the other at the top of her forehead to hold up her colossal cranium.  "Oh…"  she groaned for a moment and then leaned forward to read the book.  From where Ilosovic sat, the boy could see something gleaming that protruded from the monarch's collar.  He swallowed a gasp when he realized that the Queen had three metal rods sprouting from the back of her dress.  "What is it, Ilosovic?"

"Well…"

"Hm?"  Her eyes were scanning the page, devouring the text.  He knew she was in the worst of moods, but dared anyway.  He could not hope to concentrate if he was wondering if the metal was pushing into her skull, or popping out from her shoulders or something horrible like that,
"Your Majesty, I have to wonder, because I care for you…" he fumbled softly, "The rods, at your neck, Your Majesty…are they…comfortable?"

"Do they look it?"

"No, Your Majesty, not at all.  Which is why I was so saddened when I saw them…" in his years there, the young boy had learned particular tricks in dealing with the royal so that she did not think ill of him.  He had seen many before him try to appease her and fail…and he had paid very, very close attention in such instances, "but I would hope that they might be, by some miracle."

"Well they've put a cushion just under my hair…" And Ilosovic was relieved when she said this.  He had not noticed the little piece of red velvet just under the Queen's curls.

"And is it…a harness?"

"You could call it that.  It isn't permanent.  The rest is strapped around me, at my middle.  It's just for a few more months, until I'm stronger.  Now, shah."  

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The Squire and the magnifying glasses came shortly and the Queen instructed Ilosovic to do all sorts of things.  She never said exactly what they were making, but he figured it had to be some sort of potion.  There was a miniscule square tin, slightly smaller than a thimble,  that Ilosovic had to fill with drops of this and that and pinches of pearly powders and shavings of sharp thorns and all sorts of little little things like that.  

"The dust from a butterfly wing…Drat, drat…"  The Queen said, "We don't have any butterflies there, do we, Ilosovic?"

"No."  Ilosovic said, peering around at the tins and cups of ingredients on the table. The nub-nosed, young Squire had just come back from fetching her a cushioned stool when The Queen asked,

"Squire, catch a butterfly…there must be one in here.  Be sure not to kill it.  We'll do that here with a pin…"

They filled tin after tin and when the amber light through the glass faded and turned things in the Florarium a rosy pink from the glow of the setting sun, the boy's tiny stomach was roaring.  Ilosovic was very hungry and the miniature concoction they had created smelled very nice after he had added drops of honey from the middle of a snapdragon and a tiny handful of moon sugar.  It smelled, when he thought about it, like the pastries his father's cook used to bake for him all the time in his kitchen at home.  And the potion looked more like a creamy batter than anything else…He dared not ask for a taste, though, not knowing what on earth it was and knowing exactly what strange things he had been asked to stir into it.

Finally, after they had filled three other little containers with similar ingredients (while the Squire took notes about the ingredients at the Queen's request), Ilosovic was brave enough to question her,

"What is all this for?

"Prisoners."  The Queen said.  He guessed she was lying, but he was not discouraged at this.  Deep down he did not expect the truth.  However, this only made his curiosity burn brighter…

"Is it poison?"

"Yes.  Don't you dare take one sip of it.  Not a drop.  Not ever."  Her tone had become quite serious and he felt the shadow of his dark eyes on him. All curiosity boiling within him froze over.  "Do you promise?"

"I promise, Your Majesty.  I do."  He assured her, glancing at the little tins and their creamy contents, "Why would I ever want to drink poison?"

"I just want to be careful."  The Queen told him, offering her hand for him to step up onto.  He did and crawled across her fingers and onto her palm.  She closed her gloved hand around him gently.  "I never, never, never want to lose you, ever."   And the Queen drew the young boy close and she kissed him with her great lips for the first time in months, right on the top of his little head.  Now that he was not as young as he once was, getting a kiss from the Red Queen was sort of different…"I want you to be this way forever.  Little and lovely and just as you should be."  Ilosovic, from such a height, managed to look down and have a better look at the page of the book the Queen had been reading from.  In swirling black ink at the top of the parchment the word 'Upelkuchen' was embellished,

They did not hear the door to the Florarium open and close.  Those who entered the dim space had come silently before and gone silently before.  Once they thought they were alone, however, the interlopers spoke softly.  The Queen did not hear.  She was pouring over the book again after having set Ilosovic down.  The young boy was listening, though,

Someone had laughed, very quietly at the far end of the Florarium.  Ilosovic didn't mind tattling.  The more he tattled, the nicer the Queen was to him…

"Your Majesty."  He whispered, putting a finger to his lips so that she would not speak too loudly.  

"Hm?"

"There is someone else here."  Ilosovic breathed to her, pointed towards where the little laugh had come from.  She turned slowly, putting a hand on the Squire's shoulder to silence any questions he might have had.  And when the Red Queen and Ilosovic listened very, very closely,  they could hear someone murmuring,

"My dear, my dear…"  

"Ahem!"  The Queen sounded.  And the Florarium fell very still, as if the dew on the leaves of the plants was afraid to drip.  "Please, do come over here, whoever you are."  And then there was whispering that echoed off the glass and the shuffling of feet.  Ilosovic moved across the table and hoisted himself up onto the top of a container to stand on the copper lid.  The Queen, he noticed, tapped a finger against the side of her skirts.  That was not at all something that she did when she was going to be friendly.  

A man, a soldier who Ilosovic had never seen before, dressed well with a young face and neat brow stepped out from around one of the shelves and behind him dawdled Fiore.  She was pinning her hair back up, not looking at the Queen.  Was she blushing so furiously?  Or was that just the scarlet light coming in through the amber glass?

"And what, pray tell, is this?  Lady Fiore.  Sir Torrin…"  And suddenly Ilosovic felt very badly.  He felt more awful than ever.  

"Your Majesty…" the soldier, Sir Torrin, began, "We were intending to…"

"How dare you!"  The Queen roared, "How dare you even attempt to excuse yourself for such irresponsible and improper behavior!"   And Fiore gasped and started crying and Ilosovic felt, at that moment, as if he wanted to drink the potions he had just brewed without caring what on earth would become of him,  "I shall have your heads off.  I have reason enough to believe the two of you have been engaging in horrifically unacceptable naughtiness. This is not proper for a lady in waiting and a foot soldier and shall not be tolerated!  Of with their….""

"It isn't as it seems!"  Torrin pleaded, dropping to his knees.  His sunny face was screwed up in desperation.  

"We are not, I assure you, in any way…"  Fiore tried, her words getting stuck somewhere inside her throat,

"Then what are you doing?  What could you possibly be doing that requires the two of you snooping around in my Florarium?  Conspiring against me?  Could you be?"

"No!"

"Then what, pray?!"  The Red Queen stomped her foot.  There was a dreadful, undying silence.  And suddenly Ilosovic felt very different.  Sir Torrin looked as if he were just a year or so older than the trembling and tear-stained Fiore.  He was taller than her, well built, and had a blossoming patch of rouge on his left cheek where the lady in waiting had placed her kiss (The Queen had not noticed this, it seemed, or she would have mentioned it…).  It was in that instant that Ilosovic felt very, very small and lied to.  And something was wrong in his stomach, he thought, looking at Sir Torrin and the kiss upon his face.  Ilosovic was surprised to find himself glad to have tattled.  Fiore had not told him about any of this…

"Your Majesty!"   Torrin begged quietly, his bright eyes wide,

"Off with their heads!"

"Ilosovic!"  Ilosovic's lungs twisted around each other, for Fiore's dripping eyes had met his own.  She was gasping for breath she was weeping so furiously.  The Red Queen turned to the Squire and was about to say something when Ilosovic blurted,

"Majesty!"  Everyone turned to look down upon the tiny boy.  Ilosovic cleared his throat and tried to look into the scarlet face of the Queen, " Majesty…"  

"What?" she replied with all the venom on her tongue,

"You may not believe this, but it is the truth…"  his mind was a cyclone and he swallowed hard, thinking, thinking, thinking, "Torrin and Lady Fiore are helping me…"

"Really?"  Her voice was strained and dangerously skeptical,

"Yes, Your Majesty." Said Ilosovic,

"Yes, Your Majesty!"  echoed Fiore and Torrin,

"It was supposed to be a surprise,"  spat Ilosovic, "for you, Majesty!"  Before the Queen could turn to the couple and interrogate them about it, Ilosovic went on, "I've missed you.  I've missed you very much and I thought you might like a bouquet of flowers after your dinner…to be placed in your room.  So I suggested that Fiore find a guard with the key to the Florarium…"  He found it exhilaratingly easy to lie to her, "and collect the scraps that your royal florists were not intending to use."

And the silence that followed his tale was one of the longest silences that Ilosovic had ever had to endure in his young life.  It was a silence that was far more dreadful than even the time when his mother was glaring at him for sticking pins in his brother's cat.  It was a silence that was certainly worse than even the first time when the Queen had examined him in the gardens upon finding him after he had stolen her tarts….

The Queen's dark eyes swallowed the tiny boy next to the tins of creamy liquid.   She drew in a deep breath,

"Ilosovic…"  She smiled to him, "how incredibly sweet of you!"

It was dark in the gardens when Fiore carried him back to the palace.  Ilosovic had never been in the gardens at night.  All the emerald leaves were a glossy violet in the moonlight and the shadows on the arches were slanting and nasty.  

Earlier, the Queen had gone on ahead, escorted to dinner by a relieved Sir Torrin.  They had all put the little tins to rest upon the tops of hot oil burners to boil (Ilosovic didn't know why) and Fiore and Ilosovic had cleaned the table up before they left to take their dinners in the kitchen,

Fiore was, of course, carrying Ilosovic across the gardens to the castle.  He pinched Fiore's finger when she would not address him.  She squealed, stopping and nearly throwing the boy from her hand,

"How long have you been seeing Sir Torrin?"

"Ow!  Oh, Ilosovic!"  she huffed, "For a few months now…"  

"And why didn't you tell me?"

" I shouldn't have to tell you anything I shouldn't like to."  

"But if you don't, I'll tell the Queen all the nasty things you've done."

"And if you'd do that, I'd tell her all the nasty thing that you've done!"

"But she likes me best!" Ilosovic shouted, wanting very much to be the proper size and to get honestly angry at the lady in waiting, "You'd have had your head off a hundred times over had I not helped you!"

"Then don't help me, Ilosovic.  Why do you even bother keeping my head on my shoulders if you are so mean to me!?"  And he paused so a watery-eyed Fiore answered for him, "Because you know I'm the only one who'd tolerate you?  Because you know I'm the only person who bothers to talk to you?  Because you know I stay up until you go to sleep because I know you don't want to meet that horrible cat again?  Because I'm the only friend in Underland you could ever have?" He pinched her again and she looked at him sadly, "You wouldn't get angry if it weren't true."  Ilosovic turned away from Fiore, sitting on her palm.  

They walked in quietness for a minute or three.  Ilosovic steadied his furious breathing and observed the garden.  The grass was well trimmed and there were dark puddles of shadow on the lawn at twilight.  It was colder, too, he thought.  The night wind from the tundra could sweep over the wall and swirl around the shrubs.  

Fiore sat down on a black, bench that had a brilliant luster of lacquer about it and set the little boy down beside her.  Ilosovic sat as far from the lady in waiting as he could, letting his feet dangle over the edge of the seat.  When he looked up, the moon was behind her head and it painted the outline of her head stardust white.

"Still…No matter why you did it," Fiore looked at her hands, which she had folded in her lap, "Thank you for helping me."

Ilosovic looked up at the girl.  About a year ago she had been expected to powder her face with the rest of the women.  After so much crying, her make-up had been ruined.  Even so, Ilosovic discovered that he found her very nice looking.  He told her,

"You're welcome…"  and then the boy said, "But I'm still very cross with you.  When you've been sneaking off with that soldier, did you ever worry that I'd wake and find you gone and call the Queen…"

"Yes!  Every evening…"

"So you'd just leave me?"

"Don't take it personally, Ilosovic.  I care about you, truly.  I feel very responsible for you and I am honored I have such responsibilities, but…"  And she looked at him with her dusty eyes, "But people do very silly things when they find they have affections for somebody."

"Since I saved your life," Ilosovic interrupted her, standing up and ignoring the look on the girl's face, "will you tell me something?"

"What?" she sighed, turning away a little and gazing out at the garden,

"Upelkuchen.  What's that?'

"Upel….well…"

"It's what we were making today, wasn't it?"

"Was it?"

"Of course it was.  I saw that in the book the Queen was reading for the…"

"Well, all right."  She adjusted her skirt, smoothing it over her knees.  Ilosovic thought that Fiore was very awful at lying, "But I've no idea what it does…"

"Sure you do."

"I don't.  I really, really don't have the slightest idea, Ilosovic."

"Fiore…"

"Ilosovic, all right."  And she looked up at the sky and then at him, "I know, for a fact, she intends to feed some of it to the prisoners."

"Well, why?"

"I don't know.  She's trying to do an experiment, I think.  I think…"

"Wait,"  Ilosovic said, nearing her, "You said she'd feed it to prisoners."

"Yes, prisoners…"

"But we brewed potions.  Shouldn't she give it to them to drink?"

"Well, you bake it and it turns into a little cake…"  Fiore stood, "You concocted the batter…"

"So you know how Upelkuchen is made but you've no idea what it does…."  Ilosovic raised an eyebrow, looking right at her, "That's interesting."

"Ilosovic."  Fiore said, offering her wrist for him to step upon.  "Please.  Don't be nasty."

"I won't be nasty if you don't go to see Sir Torrin tonight…"

"…and stay and be sure that the cat does not visit."  Fiore said, with one of her slanting smiles,

"No."  Ilosovic insisted, stepping onto her gloved hand and glaring up at the lovely girl, "…and stay so that you do not get into any more trouble.  I don't want you running off without me being there to keep your head screwed tight to your neck."  He was surprised when she laughed one of her tweeting little laughs,  "What?"

"Oh, Ilosovic,"  Fiore chirped, starting off towards the castle, "You're very silly and sweet.  I would hug you tightly if you were big enough."