“We’re here to see the queen,” said Marigold. She could feel her heart beat faster as the guard reached for her spell pouch. “The great Wizard Torville has an urgent matter to discuss with her.”
The right-hand guard exchanged a look with the left-hand one. “Did the queen summon you?”
“Well, no,” Marigold admitted. “But the great wizard has heard of a threat to Blumontaine. He came to warn his friend Queen Hetty about the danger.”
The left-hand guard’s eyes narrowed at the word friend. “What sort of threat?”
Marigold looked up at Collin, who’d managed to cross his arms in more or less the same way Torville would have done. “He’ll only speak to the queen herself,” she told the guards. “He doesn’t trust anyone else.”
The right-hand guard stared hard at Marigold. Her fingers tugged at the strings of her spell pouch, but she proved not to be brave or foolish enough to stand in the way of an evil wizard. She turned to speak to the left-hand guard. “Take the message to the queen,” she said. “Tell her it’s Wizard Torville and —?”
“His apprentice,” said Marigold.
The left-hand guard nodded and disappeared inside the palace. After what felt to Marigold like ages, he returned. “Her Majesty is expecting a visitor,” he said, “and it isn’t Wizard Torville. But she says she’ll grant him five minutes.” The guard held open the door. “Her Majesty is waiting in the throne room with Victoria.”
Marigold wondered who Victoria was. The queen’s daughter? Her sister? Marigold’s etiquette tutor had tried to tell her about the Blumontaine royal family once or twice, but all the charming princes and scorned aunts in the Cacophonous Kingdoms had blurred together in her memory. Queen Hetty had probably attended some of the parties in honor of Rosalind, but Marigold didn’t think she’d been introduced to her. Marigold did remember that many years ago, when her parents had been late to pay for a shipment of ice from Blumontaine, Queen Hetty had hired an evil wizard to make every street in Imbervale run uphill, no matter which way you walked along it. Marigold’s father still complained about that curse whenever he got a cramp in his legs. It was possible, Marigold realized now, that Torville had been the one to cast it.
The guard led them down hallways and passageways, under archways, through doorways, and up so many spiral staircases that Marigold’s head began to spin. She wondered if the guard was dragging them around half the palace on purpose. When they came at last to the throne room, the guard looked a little disappointed to see that none of them had gotten lost along the way, but he pulled open the heavy door and bowed low. Beyond him, at the far end of the room, Marigold could see a woman sitting in a gilded chair. “Presenting Wizard Torville,” the guard announced, standing up again, “and his wicked associates.”
“Thank you,” said the queen. “Please come forward. Not too close, though, Torville, and don’t mind the niceties. I’ve heard from Countess Snoot-Harley that you’ve got skin-crawling sickness, poor thing.”
The guard led the visitors into the throne room, where, once again, Marigold was surprised. Queen Hetty looked ordinary and pleasant, not at all like the ruler of a kingdom full of sneaks and scoundrels. She gave the impression of having just sat down after finishing fifteen different tasks at once; her clothes were expensive but rumpled, and the glasses on her nose were slightly crooked. Most surprising of all, however, was the enormous green creature that lay across her lap.
It was scaly and spiky, with a tail that dangled almost to the ground and claws that dug into Queen Hetty’s skirts. It wore a miniature diamond necklace, a satin sash in the same shade of blue as the guards’ stockings, and a powdered wig. As Marigold was wondering whether the thing could possibly be alive, it turned its head and stared at her. Even though she was a wicked child, Marigold almost shrieked. Collin must have noticed the creature, too, because he startled and raised a hand to his mustache.
Queen Hetty proceeded as if everything were perfectly normal. “You do look ill, Torville,” she said. “I can hardly see your face. And your hands are terribly pale! Are you sure you shouldn’t be home in bed?”
“He insisted on seeing you right away, Your Majesty,” Marigold said, “even though his skin is crawling all over the place. He asked me to speak for him since he’s too ill to say much himself.”
“You must be the apprentice my guard mentioned.” Queen Hetty frowned a little. “I didn’t know Torville was hiring help. And he’s brought his imp, too?”
“To raise his spirits, Your Majesty,” said Pettifog most politely. “Or lower them, as the case may be.”
The green scaly creature must not have cared much for imps: as Pettifog spoke, it thrashed its tail and snapped its jaws. “Victoria!” said Queen Hetty. “Settle!”
The creature stopped thrashing, but it didn’t take its eyes off Pettifog.
“Please don’t mind Victoria,” the queen said. “She’s been in an awful mood all week. I think her teeth are bothering her. She was supposed to sit for a new portrait on Thursday, but after she bit the paintbrush in two, the artist refused to do the job.” Queen Hetty patted the creature’s little wig. “You know how it is with iguanas.”
The walls of the throne room, Marigold noticed now, were hung with paintings of Victoria dressed up in different iguana-size costumes. There was Victoria in a sea captain’s hat at the helm of a sailing ship. There was Victoria in a pink tulle skirt and satin slippers, dancing on a stage. There, in a place of honor behind the throne, was Victoria in a jockey’s helmet and jodhpurs, balanced tenaciously on the back of a racehorse. Marigold did not know how it was with iguanas, but she was beginning to get some idea of how it was with Queen Hetty.
“The guard said your business is urgent,” the queen said, looking at a watch on a golden chain, “and I’ve got only four minutes and thirteen seconds to hear it. Twelve seconds. Eleven.” She adjusted her glasses. “What’s so important, Torville? I’ve paid you for that shrinking spell, haven’t I?”
“This isn’t about bills, Your Majesty,” Marigold said. “It’s about Foggy Gorge.” On the winding journey through the palace, she’d finally come up with the perfect story to tell Queen Hetty. “They’re planning to put a curse on Blumontaine,” she said. “On your indigo stranglers, actually.”
“Our wildflowers?” Queen Hetty sounded puzzled.
Marigold nodded. “They want to enchant the vines to stop strangling trees and start strangling people.”
Queen Hetty stopped patting Victoria’s wig. She sat up straight on her throne.
“And iguanas,” Marigold added, feeling inspired. “Especially iguanas.”
Collin’s shoulders started to shake, as if he was trying hard not to laugh.
“But that’s terrible!” said the queen. “We’ve had a truce with Foggy Gorge for nearly a month. Are you sure this rumor is true?”
“It’s not just a rumor, Your Majesty,” Pettifog said. “Foggy Gorge tried to hire Torville to do the spell work himself. He refused on account of his acquaintance with you, but they’re sure to find another evil wizard to get the job done.”
“Yes, yes,” the queen said. “Juno would do it, or Elgin, or Old Skellytoes.” She held Victoria tightly to her chest. “Can you tell me who from Foggy Gorge approached you? Was it a member of the royal family?”
“It was . . . ah . . . the crown prince,” Marigold said. She was certain that Foggy Gorge had one of those, because he’d been among the suitors trying to convince Rosalind to fall in love with them. “He said you could never trust Foggy Gorge to keep a truce, and then he laughed about it. He sounded even wickeder than Torville.”
“That kingdom,” said the queen, “is rotten from top to bottom, just like the other eight. I’ve always said so, haven’t I, Victoria?” She set the iguana down on the floor. “Thank you for warning me. I’ll order all the indigo stranglers in Blumontaine cut down by nightfall. And I’ll have to come up with some kind of punishment for Foggy Gorge, of course, to let them know I’m wise to their plans. How about quicksand, Torville? Can you whip some up for me? I’m thinking fifty gallons in front of their palace, and another twenty-five around the back.”
“You’d better ask another wizard to do the work,” Marigold said quickly. She could hear Victoria’s diamond necklace jangling as the creature skulked across the floorboards. “It may be weeks before Torville is healthy again.”
The queen said she understood, but she was frowning. She looked over one shoulder, then the other. “Where did your imp go?”
“I’m here, Your Majesty.” Pettifog poked his head out from behind Collin’s robes, where he’d hidden from the advancing iguana. “And very glad you’ve decided not to forgive Foggy Gorge for this betrayal.”
Queen Hetty shook her head. “It comes at the worst possible time, you know. Have you heard about the plan for the Harmonious Kingdoms? I’d been thinking of going along with it. In fact, I’m supposed to discuss it with Princess Rosalind in . . .” She consulted her watch again. “Fifty-eight seconds. Fifty-seven. Fifty-six.”
“Princess Rosalind?” Marigold squeaked. “She’s coming here?”
“In fifty-one seconds, yes. She’s absolutely delightful, and so kind to Victoria!” Queen Hetty waved a hand toward the iguana, who was snapping at the edges of Collin’s robes, still trying to take a bite out of Pettifog. “But what am I thinking? You know Rosalind, Torville; you held the poor girl captive for all those years! Oh, dear, this is awkward.”
Marigold didn’t have time to fret. “We’d better be going, Your Majesty,” she said, steering Collin toward the door. “Princess Rosalind is sure to be distressed if she sees Torville. Come along, Pettifog.”
“I’m coming!” cried Pettifog, leaping clear of Victoria’s teeth. “Thank you for the audience, Your Majest — eek!” He whirled around and looked accusingly at the iguana. “That monster stole my handkerchief!”
Victoria, who seemed to be chewing on something, smiled. Pettifog leaned forward to yank a corner of handkerchief from her jaws, but Marigold pulled him away. “We don’t have time,” she whispered.
“But it’s my best one,” Pettifog complained, “with the cornflowers on it. And anyway, I don’t mind seeing Rosalind.”
“You will when she takes one look at our Torville,” Marigold said. They hurried past the guard in blue hose and out of the throne room. Even Rosalind, who was never nosy, would have questions to ask if she got a good view of Collin. Right now, for example, Collin was swooping down a spiral staircase two steps at a time, looking very much like a ten-year-old boy and not at all like an ill and evil wizard. “Stalk and mutter!” Marigold hissed at him, but there wasn’t much point. If the queen’s watch kept good time, they had less than half a minute to leave the palace before Rosalind arrived. Maybe she would be late, Marigold told herself, trying to remember which of three archways they were supposed to pass under. She chose the archway to the right and ran through it, dragging Collin with one hand and Pettifog with the other.
Of course Rosalind wasn’t late. She was perfectly prompt and striding down the corridor toward Marigold, escorted by two Blumontaine guards and several straggling advisers from Imbervale. In the new clothes the palace dressmaker had sewn for her, with a golden circlet on her head and a brave, determined look on her face, Rosalind was even more impressive than Marigold had remembered. She did not seem like the sort of princess who would dress in old wizard’s robes, tell lies to Queen Hetty, or be frightened by Victoria.
Marigold stopped short. Pettifog took a sharp breath inward, and Collin almost tripped over the carpet. Twenty feet down the hall, Rosalind stopped, too.
“Pettifog!” she said. “What are you doing here? Is that Torville? And who in the world . . . ?” She took a step forward then, squinting at Marigold.
Marigold couldn’t think what else to do: she scooped out a whole fistful of traveling powder, seized Collin’s sleeve, and threw the powder into the air. The hallway filled with purple smoke. “Torville’s fortress!” she shouted. “Now!”
There was a bang loud enough to make Marigold’s ears ring. When the smoke cleared, she was still holding on to Collin, though his hood had fallen down around his neck, and he looked positively terrified. This was probably because Pettifog had leaped onto his shoulders. But Rosalind and the advisers and the blue-hosed guards had all disappeared, and so had Blumontaine Palace. They were standing, Marigold realized with amazement and relief, in Torville’s fortress workroom. Torville himself was on the rim of his dinner plate, staring at them — or at least Marigold thought he would have been staring if he’d had eyes.
“Did you do it?” Collin blinked and looked around. “You did! Marigold! You did a spell that worked!”
