Free Tuesdays at the Castle by Jessica Day George Page A

it had before, in the throne room. He had very pale skin, like most Vhervhish, and it showed every vein and rush of blood, preventing Khelsh from ever hiding his emotions. Celie fervently wished that the blood she could see pounding through his temples would cause him to have some sort of fit.
    Khelsh dipped the pen into the small ink bottle and signed with an agitated scrawl. He tossed down the pen and looked at the Emissary closely.
    “But you make princeling sign, once he is king?” Khelsh asked.
    “Of course we will,” the Emissary said in a soothing voice. “Prince Rolf will have to agree. He’ll need an heir—every king has to designate one immediately—and the Council will help him choose the heir. He’s young, and naive: he’ll soon realize that he’s powerless to object, if he objects at all.
    “And by the end of the month, my dear Prince Khelsh, you will be the crown prince of Sleyne.”

Chapter
    11
    F rom now on, we may only talk freely here,” Rolf said, his face so white and strained that Celie thought he might faint.
    “But how will we tell each other when we need to meet here?” Celie kept folding and refolding the heavy cloak with shaking fingers.
    Lilah was standing by the spyglass that faced south, nervously looking through it over and over again, adjusting the lens: searching for some sign of Pogue or their parents or anyone who could help, Celie guessed.
    All three of them were in the Spyglass Tower. Celie had gathered her siblings there immediately after spying on the Council, and told them everything she had heard. They were shocked and horrified, as she was, and she was very grateful that they trusted her, and trusted the Castle. If they’d thought she was lying or telling stories to get attention, she didn’t know what she would have done.
    “Stick a handkerchief in your sleeve, so that a bit of it is hanging out,” Lilah said.
    Celie and Rolf both looked at her, a little startled by how promptly she was able to think of an answer. Lilah blushed.
    “Mother told me that she and Father used to do that, when they were betrothed, and wanted to be … private.”
    “If I ever see Pogue with a handkerchief hanging out of his sleeve …,” Rolf threatened.
    “Well, you will soon enough,” Lilah said defiantly. “We’ll need to let him in on this as soon as he returns.” She glanced through the spyglass restlessly. “We have so few that we can trust …”
    “There’s Ma’am Housekeeper,” Celie said. “I don’t think she needs to know about this room, but she will help us. And Cook. Most of the servants, I think.”
    “And Sergeant Avery,” Rolf said.
    “Can we be sure?” Lilah twisted the spyglass this way and that. “Lord Feen was a Councilor to our grandfather! And the Emissary to Foreign Lands! He’s always been so kind! Remember, Celie, how he brings us candy and presents when he returns from a journey?”
    Celie nodded, but Rolf’s lips twisted into a cynical smirk.
    “That’s his job, isn’t it?” he pointed out. “Those presents were probably from the kings of those ‘foreign lands,’ and he’s just taking the credit for them. I’ve never liked him.”
    “So, a handkerchief in one sleeve means we meet here,” Lilah repeated, after they had all mulled over Rolf’s point for a moment. “But should we drop everything and meet at once? Or should we have a special time?”
    “Midnight,” Rolf said decisively. “But if it needs to be sooner, put it in your left sleeve. Got it? Right sleeve, midnight; left sleeve, as soon as you can.”
    “But what if we can’t find the staircase to the room?” Lilah took out a handkerchief, pushed it into her left sleeve, and pulled it back out again. “We could spend hours wandering. Usually only Celie can find it.”
    “Don’t worry,” Celie said. She stroked one of the walls. “Castle, we need your help. Whenever we need to meet in this room, please let Lilah, Rolf, and Pogue find it without me.”
    Celie