Liesl and Will exchanged a hopeful look and tried to look as innocent as possible.
The old woman stared at them witheringly for a moment. “I see. Very unfortunate. Well, in that case, I suppose we ought to let the children go. We can’t have poison makers and murderers running around the countryside, can we? It goes entirely against common sense and decency.”
The policeman, still dragging the pathetic alchemist by an elbow, extracted a key from his vest and squatted down to unlock Will and Liesl’s handcuffs. The moment they were released they stood up, rubbing their sore wrists. Liesl threw her arms around Will and he patted her once, awkwardly, on the back, and turned as red as the tomatoes in the field.
The policeman placed handcuffs on the alchemist and Augusta and escorted both prisoners up the hill. For a long time, Liesl could still hear Augusta protesting her innocence and the alchemist muttering about conspiracies and useless apprentices—until the wind and the flapping of butterflies and the birdsong took over, and finally she couldn’t hear their voices at all.
“Well.” The Lady Premiere frowned. “I, for one, am not going to stand around here all day. I am the Lady Premiere, and the most powerful woman in the city, and I have business to take care of.”
“Lady Premiere?” came a voice from farther up the hill. “Is that what you’re calling yourself nowadays? Pretty fancy title for a fisherman’s daughter.”
A black-haired man had just climbed the stone wall and was striding down the hill toward the pond. Will and Liesl both recognized him immediately as the man they had seen eating soup at Mrs. Snout’s inn. He was staring fixedly at the Lady Premiere, and his smile was huge and villainous.
The Lady Premiere went as white as paper and began to tremble. All at once, she smelled cabbages everywhere. It was all-consuming. She was choking on it. The narrow and cramped rooms of her childhood home rose up around her, a specter of poverty and smallness.
“No!” she gasped. “It—it can’t be. I thought you must be dead.”
“You wished I was, you mean.” Sticky narrowed his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” The Lady Premiere sounded as though a bullfrog had been lodged in her throat. “How did you find me? What do you want?”
Sticky spread his arms, still grinning. “Thought it might be time for a little family reunion with my older sister.”
“Sister!” Mo said, scratching his head.
“Sister!” the old woman sniffed, looking the raggedy black-haired man up and down with disdain.
“Sister!” Will and Liesl cried simultaneously.
Sticky eyed the Lady Premiere’s fur coat, and the diamonds winking in her ears, and the large rings on her fingers. He had already forgotten about the little girl and the wooden box. What a lucky day! He had come for the girl’s jewelry and had instead stumbled on a much, much larger fortune. “I see you’ve done pretty well for yourself, Gretchen.”
“Don’t call me that!” the Lady Premiere screeched.
Will coughed. He had never considered that the Lady Premiere had even had a first name. And Gretchen was so . . . plain.
“Now don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your name,” Sticky said, and then began to singsong, “Gross and rotten, wretched Gretchen!”
“Stop it!” the Lady Premiere shrieked.
“Gretchen the grodiest wretch in the Glen!”
“I—said—stop!”
“Excuse me, sir,” Mo put in. He liked the Lady Premiere less now than ever, but since he was still technically in her employ, he felt it appropriate to speak up on her behalf. “I think you might have your wires crossed somewhere. The Lady Premiere is a Very Important Person. She is a royal, too. A princess from Sweden. No, no. From Norway. No, that’s not right. From Italy, if I recall correctly. . . .” Mo trailed off, feeling even more muddled than usual.
Sticky snorted. “A princess? So that’s the story she’s cooked up for herself, is it? Princess of flounder, maybe. A fisherman’s daughter, no more and no less. Used to help pick the bones out of the sardines.”
“Well!” The old woman shook her head. “Well, I never. A fisherman’s daughter! Very out of the ordinary. Quite unheard of.”
The Lady Premiere was so enraged she could hardly speak. “Shut up!” she screamed. “Shut up or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what?” Sticky interjected, stepping so close to his sister they were practically nose-to-nose. “I’m not afraid of you anymore. If you want to keep your fishy little past a secret, you’re going to have to pay.”
The Lady Premiere suddenly seized Sticky by his left ear. He let out a yowl of pain.
“Listen, you squirming, squiggling little vermin,” she hissed. “If you think I’ll let you bully or blackmail me—”
“Let go of me!” Sticky twisted out of his sister’s grasp. She darted forward and seized his right elbow. Sticky shouted, “Stop it! Stop pinching me!”