A Clockwork Fairytale Read online

  “Then ask him to call again at half past four once you are dressed for the event. That still gives you ample time to discuss procedure before you are due to attend the function.”

  “Righty ho.” Melba started to nod but her head throbbed. “Tell him to come back later.”

  With a small tight smile, Madam Borrelli inclined her head and marched to the door. After it shut, Melba flopped back on the bed and listened to the angry exchange as Vittorio tried to argue his way in to see her. Finally, the voices quieted and a door slammed. A few moments later Madam Borrelli knocked and entered. “The Royal Victualler has gone, ma’am. He was most persistent and not at all happy to be sent away.”

  Melba chuckled, imagining Vittorio’s angry expression. Then her amusement faded. He really had an awful temper and she wouldn’t want to be at his mercy. She prayed Turk never fell into his hands.

  Madam Borrelli busied herself laying out Melba’s clothes and tidying up. After a few minutes, she cleared her throat. Melba sat up and heaved a resigned sigh. She had been so looking forward to attending the Great Earth Day Celebration with her father. Now she would have to pretend to enjoy herself and she wasn’t sure she had the energy.

  “Shall I send down for some breakfast for you, ma’am?”

  Over the last few days, even Melba’s appetite had gone. She shook her head.

  “I am worried about you, ma’am.” Madam Borrelli stepped closer, then amazed Melba by pressing her hand to her forehead. “You don’t have a temperature that I can detect, but I think you should see a doctor.”

  “I ain’t never seen a doctor in me life.” Surely feeling tired and listless wasn’t enough reason to call a doctor.

  “I have served the Ferilli family since I was a girl,” Madam Borrelli said. “My loyalty is unquestioned, ma’am. You accept that, I hope.” Melba squinted up at the woman, wondering what she was going on about. “I know you and I did not see eye to eye to start with, ma’am, but please trust me.”

  Melba shrugged, too weary to bother to work out what the old crow meant. Madam Borrelli pulled up a chair and sat facing Melba. “Please listen to me, ma’am. I have held my tongue about my suspicions, but now you are sickening I can no longer, in good conscience, remain silent. A number of long-serving staff members believe the Royal Victualler is poisoning the king. Over the last few years, that man has systematically undermined and discredited the king’s most trusted advisors, leaving himself as the only advisor close to the throne.”

  “What?” Melba’s attention had started to drift, but the word ‘poisoning’ jolted her fully awake. Why would Vittorio want to hurt her father? “How?”

  Madam Borrelli clicked her tongue. “I do not know and I might be wrong. But now you are sickening as well and I fear for you.”

  “Me,” Melba whispered. “Do you think Vitto is poisoning me as well?” Why would Vittorio want to poison her if he hoped to marry her? Did he plan to wipe out her family and take the throne for himself?

  “You need to be checked by a doctor outside the Palace who is not under the Royal Victualler’s influence. Do you have any friends who could help you find someone?”

  Melba had sent Turk an invitation to the Great Earth Day celebration at the Palace, but she had not received a reply from him. “The man who rescued me and returned me to the Palace should be coming. If he got me note.”

  Madam Borrelli wrung her hands together. “We must be very careful. The Royal Victualler is a dangerous man.”

  “I should go and tell me pa.”

  “No, ma’am, do not worry him. He is so poorly now there is little he can do. If we want to see the Ferilli line continue to rule Malverne Isle, you will have to deal with the Royal Victualler yourself.”

  ***

  Turk leaned a shoulder against the wall beside the shrine to the Great Earth Jinn and watched the excited crowds thronging Sugar Street Market. Because it was Great Earth Day, entertainers from the outer circles had been allowed in. Music from a barrel organ and a piper vied with the excited chatter. Jugglers and fire breathers performed, surrounded by knots of people. Vendors sold toffee apples, meat pies, and paper cones of striped candy. The regular stalls had been replaced by those selling Earth Day keepsakes, including models of the Earth King and Queen, decorated Earth Blessings, and paper garlands fashioned to look like leaves and fruit. Children skipped past in traditional costume with pointed green hats and tiny apples and leaves sewn on their clothes.

  Although Turk had an invitation to the celebration, he had come disguised as a Royal Guard so he would be better able to help Melba escape. Since he had left Dante at the Red House, he had formulated a plan of rescue and set up the arrangements. He now had everything in place. All he needed was for Dante to turn up to play his part.

  The clock in the market square chimed five bells and a few minutes later Dante strode across the bridge from the second circle. The guards barely glanced at him, his fine clothes evidence enough that he belonged in the inner circle. He had certainly cleaned up well. He cut a fine figure in his black-tailed evening coat, satin waistcoat, and black tie. The ladies at the Red House had shaved him and cut the tat out of his hair. Most of his hair now hung to his collar, with only a single long strand bound with blue and gold thread trailing down the side of his face.

  Dante paused a short distance away and squinted at Turk. Then he grinned. He came forward, fist raised to knock knuckles. When Turk didn’t respond he shook hands instead. “I nearly didn’t recognize you, Turk. Are you using a glamour?”

  “I cannot risk entering the Palace without a good disguise. I’ll not be much help to Melba if I get myself arrested.” Turk sniffed. As well as the masculine smell of woodland spice soap, the fragrance of cheap tarts' perfume surrounded Dante. “You smell like a brothel.”

  Dante waggled his eyebrows. “It must be an improvement on smelling like trash.”

  “Anything is an improvement on trash.” Turk would be happy if he never smelled that stink again.

  Dante leaned back against the wall and surveyed the marketplace and the Palace. “So how are we going to play this?”

  “We go in separately. When the king has formally presented Melba and the nobles are free to speak with her, I want you to go to her. Vittorio will no doubt stick to her side like a limpet to a rock, but I imagine he won’t perceive you as a threat.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that. My brother and I have had our differences.”

  “Well, try not to upset him. I’ve arranged for a diversion just after six bells. My hope is that Vittorio will attend to the disturbance himself. As soon as he’s busy, Melba must tell her father she feels unwell and you should escort her out of the ballroom. Leave via the door behind the thrones and I’ll meet you in the hall. It’ll take a while to cleanse her of the poison, so I’m banking on her not being missed too soon.”

  Three young ladies walked past and Dante tipped his hat to them. They giggled behind their hands as they walked on. “You’ll concentrate on what we’re doing, tonight, won’t you?” Turk asked.

  Dante’s grin fell away and he sighed. “I find I’m rather enjoying being acceptable to the ladies again, but I’ll not let the princess down.”

  “Right, we enter separately but stay within sight of each other.” Turk set off among the crowd of nobs making their way up the steep road to the Palace. They didn’t have far to walk, as a temporary wooden staircase had been erected providing access to the ballroom balcony. Turk glanced back and noticed Dante flirting with an attractive older woman.

  The guards at the door were so busy checking nobs’ invitations they didn’t notice Turk slip inside. The ballroom was vast, the high roof supported by columns. White limestone walls gleamed in the light of thousands of flickering candles in two huge chandeliers, and green leafy garlands dotted with apples, lemons, and oranges adorned the room.

  Many nobs were already milling around finding friends, and the room was full of chatter and laughter. Footmen wielding silver trays cro
wded with glasses handed out the traditional Great Earth Day drink of cider. Turk took up a position giving him both a view of the room and sight of the marketplace clock.

  Dante and the older woman stopped beside a pillar and his eyes met Turk’s briefly over his companion’s head. Turk leaned a shoulder against the wall and waited for the king to make his grand entrance and introduce Melba. He heard both Melba and the Royal Victualler mentioned often in conversation as the nobles gossiped about what had happened in the marketplace only a few days earlier. Those who had missed the amusement were keen for a look at the unorthodox princess who had climbed on top of her sedan chair. Those who had attended the marketplace were hoping that Melba would do something even more scandalous tonight.

  Turk fidgeted, his gaze fixed on the small door behind the thrones, impatient to see her again. He just wished it could have been under happier circumstances. The hands inched around the face of the marketplace clock. Turk started to worry that the king would be late and that the diversion he had arranged would take place before Melba arrived.

  Then the drummers at the four corners of the room beat out a call to order. He straightened and his gaze clashed with Dante’s before returning to the end of the room. The door behind the thrones opened and the first thing Turk saw was Vittorio’s gleaming blond hair. His heart thumped and he rubbed his damp palms on his jacket. Something wasn’t right.

  Vittorio stepped up on the dais dressed in an extravagant Earth King costume of bronze-toned fabric, glinting with gold and green jewels. Melba mounted the steps and stood at his side with her face averted, and Turk couldn’t see her properly. Without planning to move, Turk found his feet carrying him through the crowd, drawn toward Melba like a butterfly to a flower. Layer upon layer of shining multicolored fabric formed her dress, the extravagant garment bedecked with tiny jeweled leaves and apples while a headdress of jeweled fruit topped her golden curls.

  Then she looked up. Turk’s step faltered with shock. She was beautified, with her hair glossed gold and gliss on her cheeks and around her eyes. But beneath the makeup, her skin had an unnatural gray cast and her usually sparkling eyes were dull and lifeless.

  She sank down onto the smaller throne and Turk could no longer see her over the crowd. Where was the king? Other people looked at each other and whispered the same question. Vittorio stepped in front of the king’s throne and raised his hands for silence. “My noble friends, His Royal Highness wanted to be with you tonight to present his beloved daughter to the Court. Unfortunately he is indisposed and requested that I perform this joyous duty in his stead.” He turned and held out a hand. Melba rose and stepped forward. “I give you Her Royal Highness, Princess Melbaline.”

  Applause broke out and rippled around the room, but the clapping was tentative and the nobles glanced uncomfortably at each other. Vittorio handed Melba back to her throne, then raised his hands for silence again. He gave a smug smile that whispered unease through the crowd and sent a chill through Turk. “I have more news that His Royal Highness King Santo had planned to announce tonight.” Vittorio paused, his gaze sweeping the crowd, letting the tension build. “I am delighted to inform you that Princess Melbaline has graciously agreed to become my wife. His Royal Highness wishes the wedding to take place at the earliest opportunity.”

  Turk rocked back on his heels as if he’d been struck. “No,” he whispered.

  There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by a smattering of polite applause that grew louder until nearly everyone clapped obediently. Turk’s heart thundered, disbelief, pain, and anger churning inside him. Melba stared at Vittorio with a look of stunned disbelief on her face. It was obvious she had not agreed to this betrothal. A hand gripped Turk’s arm and he looked around to find Dante at his side. “Great Earth Jinn,” Dante said under his breath. “I had no idea he planned this. Melba looks much sicker than she did two days ago.”

  “If she deteriorates this fast she will not last long,” Turk whispered. “You told me he didn’t want to kill her.”

  Dante expelled a noisy breath, his gaze fixed on Vittorio, who stepped forward to accept congratulations from the senior nobles. “I don’t know what he’s capable of anymore.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Anchor your ship well or it will not be there in the morning.

  —Bluejackets’ saying

  Melba thanked the Great Earth Jinn that she was sitting, otherwise her legs might have given way with shock at Vittorio’s announcement. He must have tricked her father into agreeing to them marrying. Master Maddox said old folks went a bit doolally and were confused, so you could steal from them easily. Vittorio was about to steal the throne and her pa was too sick to stop him, but she would not marry Vittorio even if her life depended on it.

  “Come on, Melba, time to meet the nobility and accept their congratulations.” Vittorio gripped her elbow and pulled her to her feet. “Smile, my betrothed.” She wanted to slap his stupid, smug face and announce that she refused to marry him. But putting him on the defensive would make him more dangerous. She desperately needed Turk’s help and advice.

  Her head throbbed and her legs ached after walking down all the steps from her suite. She scanned the sea of faces before her. “Please, Great Earth Jinn,” she whispered, “please make Turk be here.” But even if he was present, he wouldn’t be able to show himself openly. She needed to get away from Vittorio so Turk would come to her. All she could do was be patient and wait for an opportunity. She stood on the front of the dais and greeted lavishly dressed men and women who were instantly forgettable, all the while keeping one eye on the crowd.

  The sight of Dante pushing through the throng of people gave her a burst of encouragement. His hair was shorter than before and he was clean and smart, but she recognized his unmistakable grin. “Well, well, you look a treat, ma’am,” he said, hopping onto the dais at her side.

  “Oh, Dante, I’m so glad you’re here.” She almost fell against him with relief, but he caught her elbows and held her steady so she didn’t disgrace herself in front of the assembled nobs.

  Vittorio grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back toward him. “Get off the dais, Dante,” he hissed under his breath. His fingers pinched her arm and she winced, more with frustration at her own helplessness than at the pain.

  “Let me go,” she snapped

  “The eyes of Malverne Isle are on you, Vitto,” Dante said with a nod toward the crowd.

  With an angry huff, Vittorio released her. He stepped up to Dante and turned his head away from the curious onlookers to speak. “Just remember she is my betrothed.”

  “That means she will become my sister. I’ve always wanted a sister,” Dante said, grinning at the people closest.

  Vittorio grunted, then straightened his flamboyant jacket and turned to greet more nobles. “This is Lord and Lady Martino,” Vittorio said to her. She smiled, vaguely recognizing the old man with gray mutton-chop whiskers who must be one of her father’s advisors.

  Once Vittorio was engaged in conversation, she turned back to Dante and leaned close to whisper to him. “Is he here?”

  Dante nodded almost imperceptibly. Melba once again scanned the edges of the crowd, her headache forgotten at the promise of seeing Turk. “Where?”

  Dante took a pocket watch from his vest and flipped open the cover. “Wait five minutes.”

  She had no idea what was due to happen in five minutes but she waited expectantly, doing her best to be polite to the nobles who passed before her.

  When the clock in Sugar Street Market started to chime six bells, Dante took her arm. Melba held her breath, and stared around the ballroom looking for Turk, wondering what he had planned. As the last of the chimes faded, a tune rang out from the sacred tubular bells in the marketplace shrine. A few heads turned curiously; then the chatter quieted and people started drifting toward the balcony to see what was happening outside.

  Beside her Dante chuckled and she giggled when she recognized the tune. It was not a
sacred mantra to the Great Earth Jinn as she had expected but a bawdy song from the outer circles.

  “Great Earth Jinn!” Vittorio exclaimed. “How dare someone desecrate the shrine, and today of all days?” He glanced at Melba, then past her to Dante. “Make yourself useful and stay with her until I return.”

  Vittorio jumped off the dais and pushed through the people who were wandering toward the balcony. Dante’s hand tightened on her arm and he eased her backward. “Your Master Turk is very clever,” he whispered as they retreated. “I had thought nothing short of an armed invasion would prize Vittorio away from your side tonight.”

  While all heads were turned toward the balcony, Dante jumped off the back of the dais and handed her down the three steps. Her heart thumped with a mixture of fear and excitement as they slipped through the door into the hallway behind the ballroom.

  Joy and relief swirled through her, bringing tears to her eyes when she saw Turk waiting in the shadow of a doorway. He looked so handsome, even dressed as a Royal Guard. His dark hair gleamed in the lights as if each strand had been polished. She ran to him and threw herself into his open arms. Pressing her face against his chest, she breathed the wonderful lemon-spice smell of him and hugged him tightly. His arms encircled her, his hands warm and gentle cradling her back. “How do you feel, Melba?”

  “Rotten. Madam Borrelli says Vittorio is poisoning me.”

  “My poor little Star. I’m so sorry.” He cupped a hand around the back of her head and kissed her hair. “I’ll take you somewhere to make you better.”

  Dante cleared his throat and grinned when she glanced around. “I’ll return to the celebration. When Vitto comes back I’ll tell him you’ve retired, feeling unwell.”