Azalea slept through dinner on the hard library sofa, and awoke to eleven eager sisters flocking about her, pushing and poking her awake. They pulled her up to the room while shoving pieces of dinner roll at her mouth. Azalea felt groggy, but better. Slippers were tied, hair brushed and pinned in preparation for dancing that night. In spite of Azalea staring listlessly at her slippers, the girls were a chatter of excitement.
“You’ll never guess who’s here, Az,” said Bramble as Clover brushed through Azalea’s auburn tresses.
“Mr. Bradford.”
Bramble dropped the pins she held.
“He’s come to try the riddle,” said Azalea, getting it over with. “I asked the King to let him; he hasn’t any family to go to for Christmas. I couldn’t turn him out.”
“You invited him to stay?” Bramble’s eyes narrowed, and her grin became terribly devious, like a fox among chickens. “For Christmas? Well, well, we-ee-elll!”
Azalea braced herself for the Merciless Teasing.
“Mmm,” said Delphinium as the girls took poufs around Azalea. “Sturdy and tall. Such a long nose. But those eyes—pow!”
“Aye, you’ll have childlets with brown eyes. The brown usually wins out, you know.”
“Oh, honestly!” said Azalea.
A soft knock sounded on the door, interrupting them. It wasn’t the pointed knock of Mrs. Graybe or the King’s firm, hard knock. Azalea couldn’t place it. Goldenrod, nearest the door, opened it a crack and peered out.
“No one’s there,” she said. She pulled the door open wide, letting in gust of air, to show the girls.
Tiny shivers crawled up Azalea’s arms.
“I feel so odd,” said Jessamine. Her glass-spun voice resonated with all of them. Azalea stood.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said.
The unsettling feeling followed them through the magic passage and into the silver forest. They huddled together, jittery. Azalea clutched at the lamp. It shook as she led them through the silver, and shook harder when Keeper bowed them in. His eyes met Azalea’s before he backed away into the mist, and Azalea had to set the lamp down before she dropped it.
Even though they had missed the last two days, no one felt much like dancing. Azalea held Jessamine, who was still frightened, on her lap. Bramble pushed a smile or two, but remained on one of the pavilion sofas, pensive. Delphinium didn’t want to bother teaching the younger girls, and Eve wasn’t bossy enough to do it, either. The twins didn’t know enough to teach. Clover was left to teach Hollyhock, Ivy, and Kale while everyone looked on.
“Try it again,” she said in her honey-sweet voice as they gave awkward curtsys. “Mother—Mother used to say, it takes a thousand steps to make the perfect curtsy.”
Kale’s tiny eyebrows knit.
“Mother?” she said.
“Oh, come now, Kabbage,” said Bramble, a length away. “You remember Mother.”
Kale’s dark blue eyes remained blank.
“She’s dead,” Jessamine whispered.
Azalea adjusted Jessamine on her lap so she could see her tiny white face. Funny, how four-year-old Jessamine could seem so old sometimes. Did she remember Mother, who had drawn her fingers through Jessamine’s black curls and let her feel the baby kick? How could one forget something like that?
Clover pushed a strand of dark blond hair from Kale’s eyes.
“She’s just in heaven,” she said, in a honey voice.
“Just in heafen!” Kale squeaked.
Azalea suddenly felt stifled, as though she had been overlaced in a stuffy room. She nudged the girls to go. Keeper’s dark form appeared through the mist of the entrance, and instinctively, Azalea stood, upsetting Jessamine on her lap. She ran to the front of the girls, putting herself between them and Keeper, who strode in silky strides to the middle of the dance floor.
“Is everything all right?” he said in his chocolate voice. “Only you seem in poor spirits tonight.”
The girls, smiling shyly, assured him that everything was all right. Azalea said nothing. Her eyes locked with his in an intense glare. So intense the room pulsed with her heartbeat. Keeper broke it first.
“I thought to give you all a treat,” he said, nodding to the girls. A roguish strand hung in his eyes. “A waltz. None of you have seen a closed dance for nearly a year. Miss Azalea?”
He held his outstretched gloved hand to her. Azalea stared at it. It seemed to grow bigger in her vision. His words from the dark pavilion reverberated in her mind. Never to refuse me another dance again…
After a lengthy pause, Azalea took his hand.
“Oh, goodies,” said Delphinium, perking up along with the younger girls. Clover and Bramble, on the other hand, had confusion on their faces.
“But we haven’t been properly introduced,” said Clover, on her feet. “Mr. Keeper—”