Delphinium shivered in the first pier glass. Her lips were purple. The King grabbed a fire poker from the stand by the hearth and wrapped the handkerchief at the tip. Azalea took it by the end, and the King’s sturdy hands wrapped around hers. Pulling back, she let the King’s force guide her hands to bash the mirror to pieces.
Shards crashed, revealing a tarnished backing. Terror seized Azalea. But as the mirrored pieces of Delphinium fell to the marble, each one left a bit of her behind, forming a real Delphinium, as though she had been huddled in front of the mirror the entire time.
Immediately the King’s suitcoat was around Delphinium’s shoulders, and he pulled Azalea to Eve. Eve drew back as they swung, hammering the mirror with the poker. The pieces smashed to the floor.
It felt a blur after that. Eve’s teeth chattered as she searched among the shards for her spectacles. Mr. Pudding wrapped his own ragged suitcoat around her and brought her to the ballroom fireplace, where a fire had been stirred to life. The next mirror crashed to the floor, and Lord Teddie wrapped Ivy in his suitcoat and carried her to the fire, for she was too cold to walk. Hollyhock was carried as well. The twins cried when they were released, sobbing in fits and starts. Clover next, with Kale and Lily, who seemed to fare the best of all of them.
By the time Azalea and the King reached the last mirror, their strength flagged. It took five hits to smash it, pieces of Bramble gliding together as shards fell. Bramble bent over, coughing, white as death. She had enough Bramble in her, though, to say, “Az, you look awful.”
All the girls huddled by the fireplace, crying and trembling. Azalea fell against the wall, feeling the sharp, snowy wind blow over her from the broken windows.
The King’s hand dripped blood, and his face colored a sallow green. Still, in his formal, measured way, he plucked the handkerchief from the end of the fire poker, his eyes combing the ballroom.
“Confound it!” he seethed.
A visual sweep of the ballroom confirmed what the King was confounding. Keeper was gone. And, after another sweeping glance of the bright gray-white ballroom through the pawing horses and broken glass, Azalea realized the cloak was gone, too.
“He can’t leave the palace,” said Azalea as the makeshift cavalry gathered about the King. “The handkerchief won’t let him. He hasn’t much magic to do anything.”
The King nodded.
“We will make a search of the palace, then. Sir John—” The King pushed away the doctor, who tended to the King’s hand. “The ladies first. They’ve got to be taken somewhere warm.”
A harried discussion ensued. They wanted to take the girls out, to Lord Teddie’s town house or to the Silver Compass Coffeehouse, but the King, his eyes passing over the shivering and blue-lipped girls, refused.
“It’s too cold,” he said. “We haven’t enough horses. And I will not let them from my sight. Lord Haftenravenscher, Mr. Gasperson—scout for an unmagicked room.”
Lord Teddie gave a gangly salute and bounded out the door in an instant. Mr. Gasperson followed after.
Exhaustion fell over Azalea as she started to feel the heat of the fireplace. Her body felt one all-encompassing throb. She leaned against the wall, but not even that could support her, and her legs gave way.
Mr. Bradford caught her.
“Are you all right?” he said.
Azalea nodded, too tired for words, but she smiled. She allowed a portion of her fear and pain to ebb as she leaned on his steady arm. A warm sort of glow replaced it. He helped her to a velvet chair next to the fireplace, made certain she was well enough, then tended to his pistol. She watched him as he reloaded it. He did so in a businesslike way, though he was only in sleeves and a waistcoat—blood streaked and disheveled at that—his face taut. It was easy to see him as a regiment captain here.
Azalea pieced the events together in her mind. She imagined Mr. Bradford helping the King search for her, telling the King about Keeper, then forming whatever cavalry they could when they saw the thorny branches about the palace. Azalea curled her toes in her boots (even that hurt) and smiled at Mr. Bradford. He caught it, and gave a crooked one back.
Lord Teddie came lolloping back into the ballroom with shockingly long strides. Mr. Gasperson clumped after him.
“The library, sir!” he said, breathless. “Just across the hall! It hasn’t been touched, and there’s an ember going!”
The King gave a short nod and, though bleeding, scooped up both Kale and Lily with one arm. The other gentlemen began to help the girls up. Lord Teddie thrust his hands out to Bramble. His linen shirt was stained rusty red with his blood, but still he beamed.
“What are you doing here?” said Bramble, cringing at his bleeding hands.
“Helping you up,” he said.
“Shove off,” said Bramble. She looked near tears. “If you’d stayed in your stupid country you wouldn’t be…all cut up right now—”
She tried to stand, but shook so badly she couldn’t. Lord Teddie jumped in and helped her.
“Eep!”