Free Thrice Upon a Marigold by Jean Ferris

torture ahead of him. “But as I think about it more, I don’t think he’s done that in this case.”
    After more consideration, Sebastian said, “Neither do I.” He and Phoebe looked at each other with a sort of sad acknowledgment. They knew too well how their fathers thought.
    â€œYou don’t?” Chris asked. “Why not?”
    â€œFor one thing, they’d want easy access to the baby for when it’s time to exchange her for the ransom,” Sebastian said. “And they’d want to be sure they could go in and out of the lair at will, and our dragon seems a bit too unpredictable for that.” He wasn’t even going to consider the possibility that there would be no baby to exchange for the ransom money, though he knew that the Terrible Twos were more than capable of that sort of thing.
    â€œThat makes sense,” Chris said. “And you know them. But that means Marigold is stuck in the cave now, in danger, too.” He hung his head and rubbed his eyes.
    â€œYes,” Phoebe whispered. “It is a calamitous situation.”
    Sebastian gave her an admiring look. “Grievous indeed,” he whispered back to her.
    They watched as Christian stood beside his horse, continuing to rub his eyes, and waited for him to make a kingly decision. It is sometimes easy to forget that a king is still a real person who can make mistakes, and get confused, and become discouraged.
    When Chris finally raised his head, he said, “We should go to the hunter’s cabin so Hannibal can sniff around. I think that’s what Bub wanted him to do. And then we should go back to the castle. I need to send Rollo and his guards out to find and search the forest residences where Vlad and Boris have been living in exile. I should have done that first thing. I thought I was thinking straight, but I was actually panicky. I acted irresponsibly. And on top of everything, I’ve lost Marigold.” He rubbed his eyes again. “I need to sit still for a while and see if I can think straight. And yet I’m afraid of wasting more time.”
    He shook his head and, without meeting any of their eyes, mounted his horse and rode off the way they had come, back to the hunter’s cabin—where Hannibal sniffed and sniffed with his great big sniffer but could find nothing that Bub hadn’t.
    It was a silent and dejected group that arrived back at the castle. Christian left his horse at the stables, gave Rollo his orders, and went off alone, to close himself up in his private chambers. Wendell, in need of cheer, passed through the castle corridors, looking for Mrs. Clover. To his dismay, she was busy having a cup of tea and a lovely long conversation in the kitchen with Denby, Swithbert’s valet. And Phoebe and Sebastian went their separate ways, to the blacksmith shop and the library, after several backward glances that weren’t coordinated enough to allow either to know that the other one was looking.
    Â 
    They were all back in the throne room early the next morning (along with Ed, Swithbert, and Magnus, who were anxious to know how things were progressing), just as a little light from the false dawn was beginning to seep through the high stained-glass windows.
    Chris brought them up to date. “Rollo and the guards were heroic. They searched most of the night until they finally found Vlad’s and Boris’s places, way out in the forest, past the dragon. But they were deserted. They searched them top to bottom but found nothing to indicate where the Terrible Twos might be now.”
    Before he could go on, a page came running in, a pigeon in his hands. “Sire, this p-mail just arrived.” He thrust the pigeon at Chris.
    With trembling fingers, Chris opened the container on the pigeon’s leg and shook out the strip of paper inside. “‘Do you want your daughter back?’” he read aloud, then murmured,
“What a stupid