“There!” Allie shouted, pointing across the courtyard at a dark shadow darting under a delivery cart.
They scrambled down the steps, bounded to the bottom, and raced across the ward. They caught up to him when he neared the old garden. The two split up like hunters driving their quarry. Allie blocked Mr. Rings’s path, forcing him toward Mercy, who was closing in. At the last minute, Mr. Rings fled toward the woodpile outside the kitchen. He easily scaled the stacked logs and scampered through a window, left open a crack to vent smoke.
“Crafty villain!” Allie cursed.
“You can’t escape!” Mercy shouted.
Mercy and Allie entered the yard door to the kitchen and raced through the scullery, startling the servants, one of whom dropped a large pan, which rang like a gong. Shouts and curses echoed behind them as they sped up the stairs, past the linen storeroom, and into the great hall, where Mercy finally made a spectacular diving grab and caught Mr. Rings by the back foot. His tiny claws skittered over the polished floor, but to no avail. She got a better grip and pulled him to her.
“Gotcha!” she proclaimed, lying on her back, hugging the raccoon and panting for breath. “It’s the gallows for you!”
“A-hem.”
Mercy heard the sound and instantly knew she was in trouble.
She rolled over and, looking up, saw a woman glaring down, her arms folded and a stern look across her face. She wore a brilliant black gown decorated with precious stones that twinkled like stars. At the nearby table, another woman and eight men with grim faces stared at them.
“I don’t recall inviting you to this meeting,” the woman told Mercy. “Or you,” she said to Allie, who had tumbled in behind Mercy. She then focused on Mr. Rings. “And I know I didn’t invite you.”
“Forgive us, Your Eminence,” the two door guards said in near unison as they rushed forward, the foremost taking a rough hold of Allie. The second guard grabbed for Mercy, who scrambled to her feet, frightened.
The lady raised a delicate hand, bending it slightly at the wrist, and instantly the guard halted.
“You are forgiven,” she told him. “Let her go.”
The guard holding Allie obeyed and the little girl took a step away, looking at him warily.
“You’re the empress?” Mercy asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “My name is Modina.”
“I’m Mercy.”
“I know. Allie has told me all about you. And this is Mr. Rings, correct?” the empress asked, reaching out a hand and stroking the raccoon’s head. Mr. Rings tilted his snout down in a shy gesture as he was awkwardly held to Mercy’s chest, his belly exposed. “Is he the one causing all the trouble?”
“It’s not his fault,” Mercy blurted out. “We were just playing a game. Mr. Rings was the despicable thief who stole the crown jewels and me and Allie were on the hunt tracking him down to face the axman’s justice. Mr. Rings just happens to be a really good thief.”
“I see, but alas, we are in the middle of a very important meeting that does not include thieves, axmen, or little girls.” She focused on Mr. Rings, as if she were speaking only to him. “And raccoons, no matter how cute, are not allowed. If you two would be so kind as to take him back to the kitchen and ask Mr. Thinly to make him a plate of something, perhaps that will keep him out of mischief. See if he can also find some sweetmeats for the two of you—toffee, perhaps? And while he is being so kind, you might return the favor by asking if there are any chores you can do for him.”
Mercy was nodding even before she finished.
“Away with you, then,” she said, and the two sprinted back the way they had come, exchanging wide-eyed looks of relief.
Modina watched them race out, then turned back to the council. She did not resume her seat but preferred to walk, taking slow steps, circling the long table where her ministers and knights waited. The only sounds in the room were the crackle of the fire and the click of her shoes. She walked more for effect than from need. As empress, she had discovered the power and necessity of appearances.