The petitioner arrived precisely at eight o’clock, wearing the same ankle-length red and gold jacket, worn sandals, and ostrich-plumed cap. Though a large man, he looked pitifully small beneath the white pillars and vaulted ceilings high above. The Majordomo would lead him to a spot just beneath a chandelier, where petitioners could await Her Majesty’s summons. Though several ottomans lined the wall, the petitioner never sat, but paced in long, languid circles like a clockwork automaton.

 

Gradually, a few petitioners would join him. Unlike him, they immediately took a seat, fidgeting nervously, glancing down empty hallways which never filled up. Some attempted to speak with him, but he never responded, his feet echoing dully on the blue-and-white tiles. One by one, they departed. Yet he would wait there every day without complaint until noon, when the Majordomo would clear the palace of visitors. It was a sort of joke, really; the Queen only received guests between eight and noon, though she had never granted a single petition. The petitioner either had blind faith in the monarch, or hoped by sheer perseverance to be the lone exception.

 

We first noticed him in early March, the same week I became Neeltie’s ‘favorite.’ We should have been studying, or else attending endless breakfasts and assemblies, but neither of us could stomach that swill. Mother used to say I had the blood of a king and the brains of a bedpan. If so, then Neeltie was even worse; she spoke coarsely, made lewd jokes, and let me hold her hand in private. I was infatuated with her, not only because she was beautiful (she was) and was a year older than me (and never let me forget it), but because she had already been ‘purchased’. In childhood she had been betrothed to some count in a distant land and on her eighteenth-birthday would be parceled off, never to be seen again. So any time we had together was bought or stolen, and would only earn me a balance of heartbreak (with interest).

 

I’m pretty sure she saw him first, because Neeltie usually did; every day she would see something about the palace I never noticed, or had looked at a dozen times without seeing. It was our first ritual of the day, to meet behind a pillar and snicker as he paced to and fro, muttering inaudibly. We liked to think he was rehearsing his speech to the Queen, having memorized every grievance and intonation for optimal effect.

 

“I still think he’s a farmer…he woke up one day to find his prize-winning cabbage gone, eaten up by his neighbor’s cattle. So when he stormed over to complain, the neighbor, an even more boorish fellow, told him to blow it out his own arse, and proceeded to show him,” Neeltie said, laughing in her sleeve. “So now he’s hoping the Queen will grant him his neighbor’s apology, his land, and enough beef to last the winter!”

 

“Cabbage? Look at his clothes! Rather prissy for a farmer,” I scoffed.

 

“Would you call that fashionable? Did he swipe it from your wardrobe, Hendrick?” she said, with a nudge.

 

“I’m not saying fashionable, just professional,” I corrected, ducking behind the pillar. “I think he’s some kind of soldier. Like a musketeer…or no, a hired blade.”

 

“Ooo, wouldn’t that be something? A master of duels!” she agreed, eyes widening. “So that changes everything: he must have killed the wrong person and seeks the Queen’s protection. I did hear that a Duke of Such-and-Such had been murdered last week, stabbed right through the eye. Probably had it coming. You have to find a way to draw him out! Bump into him or something, see if he challenges you on the spot.”  

 

I would have agreed to anything when she said it like that. All open-eyed and full of love and wonder. Every day we would arrive a little earlier, and sneak a little closer, trying to swipe some scrap of knowledge from his person or conversation. We even bribed the Majordomo, but he didn’t know a thing, other than the “jackanapes” insisted on speaking to the Queen about a matter of “utmost urgency” and was willing to wait. He even presented his card, which the Majordomo discarded in a chamber pot, but vaguely remembered it read “Hildebeard” or something foreign.

 

Neeltie wanted to follow him out of the Palace, but of course that was forbidden. Those of the blood were never allowed to leave unless in a royal cortège and only on affairs of state such as weddings or coronations. But she dared me. Follow him at least to the outer gates; see where he goes, who he speaks with, if anyone knows him. I told her she was mad, if caught I would be exiled to the uttermost keep of the Tower, forbidden to speak to her. But she made a face and said if I didn’t go she wouldn’t speak to me again anyway, so what’s the difference? At least this way I had a chance.

 

I knew she was joking, or at least I hoped she was, though her jokes always had an edge to them. And as someone with a quarter more blood than I had, she wasn’t used to being opposed; there were other boys my age, after all, and any one of them would be happy to take my place. Besides, I could see she desperately wanted to know who he was, and if I could give that to her, or even the tiniest scrap of knowledge she didn’t already possess…

 

“Fine, yes, but just this once. And just to the outer gates like you said,” I insisted. “But what do I get in return?”

 

“Knowledge! We’ll know everything about him,” she said, giving me a gentle shove. “Is there anything more exciting than that?”

 

“What if I don’t learn anything and come home empty-handed? Then it’s all for nothing,” I protested.

 

It’s true…you could go all the way out there only to be caught and whipped by the Queen’s boyars, and if you’re really unlucky, get an ear or finger lopped off. I’ve seen it happen.”

 

“You have?” I gasped.

 

“It happened to my last favorite, a charming young boy named Nils. Or was it Harold? Either way he was careless, and I never saw him again,” she shrugged. “So do be careful!”

 

I felt she was lying, which was a habit of hers; some even called it a vice. But I knew all about her ‘favorites,’ and I didn’t like to think of myself as merely one in a number of hangers-on. I had to distinguish myself.

 

“I’ll be careful, and I’ll find something, no matter what,” I vowed. “But in return…”

 

She made a gesture of surprise, though her eyes were smiling, even laughing at me. She knew exactly what I wanted, and what I hoped we both wanted, if we could finally be honest with each other.

 

“Oh, you mean that. That’s it, isn’t it? Very well, if you come back with something—and I mean something—good—then yes, you can have it. But only one. And I get to say where and when.”

 

“When, but not where,” I insisted, feeling uncharacteristically bold. “I want it here, not anywhere else.”

 

I gestured to my lips, fearing she would give me a motherly peck on the forehead or the cheek and call it quits. Besides, I wanted a real kiss this time, I wanted to feel her against me, the way I always imagined.

 

“You’re stalling, you cheeky cutpurse! Now quickly, before he gets out of sight!”

 

Neeltie pushed me away forcefully, but in a way that promised me I could have whatever I wanted, and soon.

 

The Majordomo had just expelled the petitioner from the palace, and as usual, he went without protest, merely bowing and scurrying off. Obviously, I couldn’t just walk out the door behind him, since the whole palace would see me. I needed a disguise, or a way to pass just long enough to reach the outer gate, which was half a mile off. Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought this through, so my only ill-formed plan was to impersonate a servant. Though I saw them often enough, I didn’t have the foggiest notion of what that entailed, or even how they carried a plate or opened a door. Nor did I have the right clothes, and the only servants in the hallways were young girls, so a costume change might be awkward, at best.

 

Then I had it: why even attempt a disguise? While I wasn’t allowed to venture out on my own, who said I had to go alone? I ran to the doors and collected the two guards at attention, explaining I had to find a man who had just left the palace, a small misunderstanding, a message from the Queen, etc. They obeyed without question, leading me outside to waylay the petitioner. Though I remembered the courtyard and the bustle of the streets beyond from childhood excursions, seeing it now unnerved me. It seemed too open, too full of smells and sounds, and I could scarcely stay upright. The guards realized this and supported me as I stumbled forward and tried to squint through the blinding sun for the petitioner’s face.

 

“There! That’s him! That man over there!” I gasped, seeing his plume high over the crush of bodies.

 

The guards picked up their pace and practically dragged me along, crying out ‘halt!’ and ‘stop that man!’ However, as they didn’t know his name, their cries alerted dozens of other people nearby, who froze in panic. I could see the plume getting smaller and smaller, and soon I would lose sight of it altogether. So I made a rash decision: I pulled away from the guards and broke into a mad dash after him.

 

I bumped into passerbys who cowered at my approach, fearing retribution for touching a noble. I apologized as best as I could, but the whole world was spinning now. I completely lost sight of the feather. I collapsed in a heap, my face in a mud puddle and my jacket, which had never before touched earth, soaking up the debris of a hundred boots and horse hooves.

 

“My Lord! Are you hurt?” someone asked, grabbing my coat.

 

I felt myself thrust into the air effortlessly, the way I might snatch a quill from the inkpot. I looked up and saw his face looking down on me, concerned but kindly. Up close, I could see how old he was: a bushy beard hanging from a face drawn with care and wrinkles. I felt ashamed to be pursuing him with ignoble intentions, when his were clearly the opposite. But as I had come this far, I might as well see it through.

 

“Ah yes, thank you, much obliged,” I said, trying to find my feet. “I actually came to find you, sir, in the hopes of learning your name and station.”

 

“Me, My Lord?” the man said, obviously taken aback. “You do me great honor! Please know me as Hildigrim Blackbeard, an astrologer-magician from the once-great nation of Zolla-Rus. I’ve just come from the palace to seek an audience with the Queen. Alas, she seems quite busy these days, far too busy to admit an audience with a sorcerer of my own insignificant reputation.”

 

“Not at all, I assure you,” I said, scrambling for some ruse to extend the conversation. “In fact, you see…she sent me here to find you. She didn’t know you were waiting, your card got lost, all manner of difficulties. She wishes to extend her deepest apologies and arrange a meeting.”

 

“So she does remember!” he said, with a grateful laugh. “We were acquainted once, though she’s doubtless had to put those days and memories behind her. But that’s exactly the reason I’ve come. Anyone else would ignore me, call me mad, but she knows…she’s seen what I can do, what powers I command.”

 

“Yes, that’s just it, she’s anxious to see you again, especially in a matter of such importance,” I agreed, somewhat carried away. “She wants to meet with you tomorrow morning, at eight, but not in her chambers. She has…a special room, very private, where you can meet, just the two of you. I’ll take you there myself.”

 

By this time the guards had finally caught up with me and drew their swords, fearing I had been accosted by the strange gentleman. I made hasty explanations and promised to return to the palace at once, as my condition had drawn considerable interest. As I walked back, I looked over my shoulder a few times to find him still standing there, eyeing me thoughtfully, as if I had done a great deed. Which made me feel all the more foolish, as I had not only lied to him, but made the Queen my accomplice. And sooner or later, she was bound to find out.

 

When I returned, more dead than alive, I stumbled back to my chambers and fell deeply asleep, tormented by troubling dreams of the stranger’s face. Something about him seemed oddly familiar, though I had never met any outsiders, and certainly no outsider-magicians. Was it true that he and the Queen were acquainted, or was he lying just as brazenly as I was? Had the Queen refused him on purpose, or did the Majordomo simply have it out for any astrologer named ‘Blackbeard’? I had no way of knowing, though I could imagine what the sorcerer would do once he learned the truth…and I doubt the Queen could save me.

 

Late in the night, when I woke up from a particularly terrifying vision—which dissolved as soon as I opened my eyes—I felt a presence close by. A hazy, shuddering silhouette. It wasn’t large enough to be the sorcerer, but it was definitely human…and definitely asleep. Even now, the head was drooping to one side, emitting a deep, labored snore. I nudged them quickly with a foot before scrambling against the far wall.

 

“Oh!” they cried.

 

“Who are you?” I gasped.

 

“Hendrick! Are you finally awake?” Neeltie said, almost falling over.

 

“Neeltie! What are you doing here? If someone saw you—”

 

“Calm down, no one saw me. I was very careful, unlike you, who went storming out of the palace like one of the Four Horsemen!”

 

She reached out in the darkness and took my arm, assuring me we were safe, and no harm would come to me. The touch of her fingers reminded me I had done all of this for her, anyway, so why shouldn’t we get a few moments in private?

 

“I really only came to apologize,” she said, in little more than a whisper. “I shouldn’t have set you off like that. It was stupid of me, I should have known better. Forgive me.”

 

“Forgive you?” I said, with a laugh. “But there’s nothing to forgive! Besides, I know everything about him now. Who he is, and why he’s here, and…”

 

I cut myself off, realizing the rest of my story wasn’t quite so celebratory. But she insisted, so I regaled her with the few scraps of knowledge I had, feeling her press close, the bed sink with her weight. For the first time, I felt like the older one, the one who knew things, and could teach her about the life outside.

 

“An astrologer-magician! I thought they were fairy tales, made-up fluff,” she said, sweeping her hair back. “And a sorcerer who saved the Queen! This is incredible, I’m almost speechless. But why did he spill his guts? What did you tell him?”

 

Here it was, the dreaded question. All the surprise and admiration I read in her face would vanish the second I responded. But better to tell her the truth and make her despise me now than compound it tomorrow. So I told her. For a beat she just looked at me blankly, as if expecting me to take it all back with a laugh. When I didn’t respond, she suddenly covered her mouth with both hands and burst out laughing herself. Even in the relative darkness, I could tell she was almost red from the effort, gasping for breath, delighted.

 

“You didn’t! Oh—I underestimated you, I had no idea you were so quick on your feet,” she said, lowering her voice. “In a hundred years I wouldn’t have had the audacity to come up with that, no, not to his face. What on earth possessed you?”

 

“I have no idea…and I sincerely wish I hadn’t! I can’t possibly take him to the Queen, who wouldn’t even see me if my life depended on it—which it does!”

 

“But don’t you see?” she said, grabbing my arm. “There’s no need to involve the Queen at all. She would never see him at any rate, no, not in a thousand years. So we’ll do the next best thing.”

 

I had no idea what she was talking about, which seemed to delight her even more. She tried miming the answer, but I couldn’t tell what she was depicting other than something large and ferocious. An elephant? A dragon?

 

“Alas, for all your brilliance you still think like a man—when you think at all,” she said. “And you really can’t see it? Not even a little?”

 

“Not a clue.”

 

“Tomorrow morning, meet him under the chandelier as usual, and bring him into a private chamber, the one just off the stairwell. It’s quiet and out-of-the-way. There I will receive him, and he can relay his petition to me, and we’ll finally know his secret.”

 

“I don’t understand…why would he want to see you? He asked for the Queen, not one of her distant relations.”

 

“I’m not all that distant,” she said, with a huff. “But you’re missing the point. He’s not coming to see me; or rather, he will see me, but I won’t be myself. I’ll be the Queen! Dressed as her, acting like her, he’ll never know the difference.”

 

There were so many objections to this plan I didn’t know where to start. But just as I opened my mouth she stopped it with a finger. Wait and listen first, her eyes warned me. Apparently, she had met the Queen dozens of times, at picnics, morning assemblies, the opera. She could imitate her voice flawlessly, her indifferent, haughty gestures, her scowl, the way she sniffed at things that displeased her. She had even done it before, in private before her cousins and half-sisters, and they all agreed: the portrait was drawn from life.

 

“But the sorcerer, he knows the Queen, he’s met her. They might even be good friends,” I protested. “And you…you’re not even sixteen! The Queen is old, I don’t know how old, but she assumed the throne when she was older than you. And that was ages ago!”

 

“I’ll be sixteen in three weeks, so why split hairs?” she scoffed. “But I’ve already thought of that. I’m tall for my age, and the Queen stoops mightily now, you should see her. All we need is a suitably dark room, some distance between us, and I’ll hoodwink you both!”

 

“But this is ludicrous! And it’s not worth the risk. If he found out and reported us—”

 

“Hendrick, we have no choice,” she said, kneeling beside me, pressing her face even closer. “If the Queen finds out what you’ve done she’ll destroy you. And the sorcerer might do even worse. I’m doing this for you, for both of us. I won’t let them take you away from me. I thought you felt the same.”

 

Of course she knew exactly how I felt. Unlike her, I could never pretend or dissemble. And so, without even asking, she kissed me full on the lips. Brief, but about all I could stand at the moment.

 

“See? You told me where. And I chose when. But that’s not enough, is it? One kiss for all you’ve risked for me?”

 

“No, it’s plenty—it’s even more!” I insisted.

 

“I haven’t been very nice to you, Hendrick. I never am, not to boys,” she said, turning away. “I make them keep their distance, because I know who they are, or what they’ll become. But once I realized you were different, that you weren’t like the others…well, it was too late to make amends. I had to play it out.”

 

“Play it out?” I asked, typically clueless.

 

“Everything I told you, about having favorites, kissing all those boys, my popularity…those were lies, Hendrick,” she said, with a guilty laugh. “I lie, it’s what I’ve been trained for. That’s all the women in court have to defend themselves from men, from each other. But I don’t want it to be the same with us. You have to know who I really am, because otherwise you won’t like me. Not the real me.”

 

“But Neeltie, I do, I like you, I always have. Every bit of you,” I insisted.

 

“That’s because you’re stupid, like most boys. But maybe you’ll like the rest of me, too, once you see it. So let me show you what I can really do. Help me do this, and I promise, we’ll carry it through. He’ll never know what hit him.”

 

I wanted to tell her this would all end badly, since it was more than a lie, it was insurrection, sabotage, treason (take your pick). But the thought of a second kiss was too overpowering, and without even asking, she granted me a second, and after the second, a third. In fact, we kissed so many times I stopped counting how many, and just focused on kissing her back.

 

The next morning I waited nervously for the sorcerer to appear, which he did, as punctually as ever. His eyes immediately sought me out, and upon finding me, gave a nod of approval. The Majordomo glanced sideways at us, but only in dismissive contempt. I hastily took Hildigrim aside and led him down a hallway and three corridors to a hidden room quite out-of-the-way, as Neeltie instructed. When we reached the door, I hesitated, fearing I was too transparent. After all, why would the Queen send a boy and not her lady-in-waiting with a signed-and-sealed invitation?

 

Whatever he thought or knew or suspected, it was too late to turn back. I turned the handle and led him into a darkened room, only a few flames flickering in candelabras, and a window facing due west, which obscured the light. He entered humbly, removing his cap and walking slowly, squinting through the gloom. At first I didn’t even see her myself, but as we approached, the silhouette on the chair rose, becoming severe and erect. I could no longer see the fifteen-year-old girl I pursued amorously through palace hallways; no, this was someone else, someone imposing who knew her place in the world. I wondered if even the Queen herself could project such confidence in a single look.

 

“Approach, Hildigrim Blackbeard,” she said.

 

“Your Majesty, such a privilege, truly,” he said, with a bow. “Thank you for seeing me so quickly…though I hoped to see you much sooner, given the nature of my request.”

 

“A regrettable error, my old friend, and one I hope to remedy by giving you my full attention for the next…ah, twenty minutes. Then I’m off to a prior engagement.”

 

“Of course, I only need a few moments of your time,” he said, nodding quickly. “I must say, though, you seem remarkably undiminished by the years, Your Majesty. Though you were but a girl when last we met, I can discern little change in your appearance, especially considering what you’ve had to endure over these trying years.”

 

“I employ the best men, who in turn offer me the greatest creams and ointments,” she said, with a dismissive gesture. “It’s all a performance, as I’m sure you know. Now tell me, Master Hildigrim: why have you come? What’s the nature of your request?”

 

The sorcerer opened his cloak and removed a small book tucked discreetly away in a pocket. He unfastened a clasp and flipped through a few pages. Once finding the correct page, he began to read…arcane words of an old prophecy which concerned the cycles of the earth, the orbit of the stars, the names of a dozen kings, and a dragon. At first I couldn’t make much sense of it, but as he read more and more, I understood why he returned to the palace each morning, enduring neglect and insult, to see her.

 

After the reign of twelve kings, the last of which had been the Queen’s own uncle (and having no male heirs, she inherited the throne), when the constellations had assumed the correct formation in just the right year and season, a terrible dragon would end its slumber. It lived in the far-flung Northern islands, almost inaccessible to any boat or traveler, but still within striking distance of the kingdom. For it would come and lay siege to the palace, ravenous and unstoppable. No force on earth could oppose it, as their ancestors learned; the spellcraft that might have held it in check had been lost long ago. All that remained was the prophecy, and this was the sole remaining copy.

 

Neither of us spoke. I could see Neeltie falter, almost forgetting her act. Of course, he could be wrong, or even lying, as sorcerers were wont in the past. Many of them had become bywords for deceit and double-dealing, which is why their schools had been dissolved and many of their orders sent packing. However, if there was even the slightest possibility such a monster existed to threaten the livelihood of the people, action had to be taken, the armies alerted, the people evacuated, the city walled-up.

 

“And when, according to your calculations, is the dragon likely to awaken?” she finally asked, in a low, broken voice.

 

“I’ve charted it down to the very day, if not the hour, Your Majesty,” he said, closing the book. “July twenty-fourth. Between six and seven-thirty.”

 

A shiver swept through my heart and made my extremities tingle. I locked glances with Neeltie, whose wide eyes now betrayed her age; she looked like a frightened child, ready to run from the room and seek solace in her mother’s arms. But she quickly swallowed it down, stiffened her posture, and channeled the Queen.

 

“That can’t be right, Master Hildigrim. Today…is the twenty-second.”

 

“I’m afraid so, Your Highness,” he said, with a sorrowful lowering of the head. “My news reaches you dreadfully late.”

 

“But why…why only tell us this now? Surely you might have come weeks, even months ago to tell us the news! Or at least as soon as you learned it?” she demanded.

 

Here the sorcerer stood up a little haughtily, allowing himself the merest stain of incivility.

 

“With all due respect, My Queen, I first arrived at the palace in March,” he explained, crossing his arms. “I sent you a letter, which I realize may have been misdirected. So I sent a second and even a third one, but still, no reply. I admit I was puzzled, even hurt, until I reasoned that letters could be forged, my signature called into question. If I came to see you myself, face-to-face, you would no longer have any reason to doubt.”

 

I tried to remember the first time we saw him, how many days and weeks we had spent spying on him, making up stories. Making fun of the one man thoughtful enough to save the kingdom! I felt sick to my stomach, and I know Neeltie, locked up in her role as the Queen, must have felt the same—or worse, since she was technically the one responsible.

 

“I offer you my sincerest apologies, Master Hildigrim,” she said, miserably. “I assure you, your arrival was unknown to me, as were the letters. But why did you keep waiting, and not try some other method?”

 

“I suppose it was a test, Your Highness,” he said, after a beat. “I wanted to give you every opportunity to prove worthy of the task before you. If in the end you refused, then perhaps the kingdom deserved its fate, and I could sleep easier knowing that I endured insult, neglect, and boredom on your behalf.”

 

We had come to a point of crisis. The game had to be abandoned, the truth revealed before it was too late, whatever the cost. But even now, even if we found some way to bring him before the Queen, would she listen to us, or suspect us all of conspiring against her?

 

“Master Hildigrim, I almost tremble to ask…is there any action we can still undertake with the dragon’s approach underway? Even a desperate, if doomed, last defense?” she asked.

 

The sorcerer clearly expected that question, since he opened his book again, and flipping to the very last page, ripped it out. This he handed to me, which I eagerly inspected before passing it on. Basically, it was a list of strategies to take in preparation for the dragon. However, as the days and months slipped by, one after another had been crossed out by Hildigrim, as they required many long weeks of preparation. In fact, only a single option remained:

 

Pile up the kingdom’s coffers in a great pit before the city and hope the dragon accepts it as a sacrifice and spares the city. Leave not a single copper behind, since a dragon will know, and will greedily seek it out.

 

Neeltie eagerly gestured for the page, and I handed it over with trepidation. The Queen would never agree to that, nor would any monarch worth their crown and title. They would gladly sacrifice the city and everyone in it for the chance to escape with a few chests of the treasury intact. Apparently Neeltie felt the same, as she emitted a savage croak of despair.

 

“I’m afraid that’s all we can hope for, Your Majesty,” Hildigrim shrugged. “Believe me when I say I’ve studied this dragon—and indeed, all species of dragons—throughout my long career. I’ve even encountered one in my youth. We could sooner wrestle Death himself to a standstill.”

 

“And if they…that is, if I were to agree to this, is it likely the dragon would accept it and spare the kingdom?”

 

“I can make no promises, Your Highness,” he replied, gravely. “No one can read a dragon. Some kill for the sheer pleasure of it, while others view it as a necessary evil, however effective. But faced with little time and considering the incredible panic that will grip the city in the face of its arrival, you have no other option. I would take action at once.”

 

“And you…will you stay to advise us? Just in case?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

 

“Advise you, my Queen? I fear you overestimate my abilities,” he said, shaking his head.

 

“If the dragon refuses your tribute, then I can do little more than run for my life. And surely you’re faster than I am.”

 

At this she leapt up from the throne, wanting to reach out to him and confess everything. But both of us fell silent. We didn’t dare, not even with everything at stake. Fear of discovery and doomsday were so intermingled we couldn’t take a step forward or back. All we could see was death.

 

“Should I see myself out? Or will you escort me?” he asked, gesturing to the door.

 

“Oh, yes…I will, of course, Master Hildigrim,” I said, recovering myself.

 

We started to leave, but he suddenly stopped and turned on his foot.

 

“Or, we could simply be honest with each other in the time we have left.”

 

I froze, realizing the truth of my suspicions. That somehow, he knew. His answers were always hinting at a larger question we tried to ignore: namely, who did we think we were?

 

“I know who you are. I’ve been watching you watching me for the longest time,” he said, with a grin. “And I applaud your resourcefulness. Not many people would go to such lengths. After all these months of waiting, of simmering in anger and insult, it was a welcome diversion. You’re both quite talented, especially you, my would-be Queen.”

 

Neeltie was speechless, though she took another step from the throne, her knees trembling. I ran over to support her, knowing that all of this praise and politeness was merely a prelude. To what, I was too scared to admit.

 

“But now we have bigger problems. Clearly the Queen refuses to see me. Typical…she’s the same quacksalver she always was,” he said, tossing his head.

 

“A what?” I gasped, since it sounded obscene.

 

“A clodhemp, a finglefangler, whatever you young people call it. But listen, you’ve gone this far…are you willing to take the next step? Do something really criminal?”

 

“I…anything, of course,” I stammered.

 

“Clearly you won’t convince her to take any of this seriously. And even if she did prove sympathetic, her ministers would quickly overrule her,” he said, with a snort. “So that leaves us with no alternative; we’ll have to steal it. Or rather, you will.”

 

“Steal it? The entire treasury?” Neeltie gasped. “But why us? Can’t you do it?”

 

“Me? Unfortunately, I fit the profile of a would-be burglar. Whereas you two belong here…you could practically walk inside without raising an eyebrow.”

 

“Yes, but there are thousands, millions of coins in there, along with jewelry and weapons, priceless artifacts,” I protested. “How in the world could we cart them all out? And even if we did, it would take months of painstaking labor, going back and forth; we’d need an army!”  

 

“I came prepared,” he said, removing something else from his cloak.

 

It was a large sack, brown and nondescript. He handed it to me, and I looked inside, finding it suspiciously empty.

 

“It’s magic, a sack of infinite space,” he explained. “You could pack the entire palace in there, piece by piece, and sling it over your shoulder. The weight would be negligible, too, no more than carrying a few books from the library.”

 

I traded looks with Neeltie, who seemed frightened, incredulous. We still had no proof that Hildigrim Blackbeard was even a sorcerer and not a charlatan—or yes, a burglar. Even the dragon remained a hypothetical threat. And now he wanted us to rob the treasury down to the last coin, and deliver it up to the enemy?

 

“It’s your only chance, I’m afraid, and not one I’d lay odds on,” he admitted. “I’d stick around to help, but when the dragon comes, I want to be as far away as possible, and I’ve already stayed too late.”

 

With that, he gave a polite bow and escorted himself out of the palace after all. We sat there in stunned silence, Neeltie holding the sack like a child with a limp doll, blinking back tears. I took her in my arms and whispered it wasn’t as bad as it looked. We still had two days to do it…that had to be enough time, or else he wouldn’t have told us at all. Right?

 

“He must be joking! The treasury is guarded like a fortress. They wouldn’t allow us within a mile of the entrance, and even if we did get inside, we would still have to get out again, all while hauling this enormous sack of gold!” she lamented.

 

“I agree, it’s won’t be easy, but we got this far, didn’t we? And we have this sack! So at least there’s one problem solved.”

 

“We made a mistake, Hendrick,” she snapped, turning angrily away. “Or at least, I did. You shouldn’t have encouraged my lies. You should have told me to stop. Anyone else would have.”

 

“But why would I…your plan worked, Neeltie! Without your ‘lies,’ as you call them, we would never know about the dragon,” I protested.

 

“Good! I wish we didn’t! I wish I had never heard of it, or the sorcerer, or you, for that matter! What good does it do me? Better I had died ignorant and happy! And alone.”

 

She threw the sack in my face and stormed off, but not before I could catch her arm. I tried to pull her back, but she tugged ferociously and finally wrenched it out of my grasp.

 

“You want to save the kingdom, then good luck to you! You keep the sack! I’m leaving, and please, don’t follow me...you’ve done enough as it is.”

 

She ran off, sobbing, and I fought the impulse to run after her. Instead, I spent the rest of the day moping, pacing my room and trying to see where I went wrong. It’s true, I could have stopped her so many times…but I never read the word ‘no’ on her lips. She was free to refuse at any point, I wouldn’t have argued. But wasn’t that what brought us together, the freedom to say ‘yes’ for a change, to defy the Queen, our parents, and a palace that ruled our lives? Didn’t we secretly want a dragon to appear and reduce it all to smoke and cinder? So why was she crying and not celebrating? And why wasn’t she here with me?

 

No matter. I still had time—I could still save her. Somehow, I would make it into the treasury and empty the coffers of every last coin and jewel, no matter how long it took me. Of course, time was an issue; I only had a single day and a few hours to do it.

 

Getting there was the easy part. I bribed a few guards who snuck me down to the lowest levels, deep in the bowels of old castle itself. Unlike the polished marble upstairs, everything was stone and iron down here; nothing beautiful or finely crafted, nor a single courtier or mademoiselle in sight. I could easily disappear and no one would be the wiser. But at least I had come alone and maintained Neeltie’s innocence. Even if I could only buy her another day or two of freedom, it was enough.

 

The guards stopped a few halls short of the treasury. If I wanted to go any further, they explained, I would need to be one of the Viceroy’s dragoons, an attaché to the Royal Accountant, or carry signed lettres de cachet. I clearly wasn’t an attaché or a dragoon (I didn’t even know what those were), and the only letter I possessed was a brief note from Neeltie that addressed me as “Distinguished Lord Horse’s Arse, Esq.” 

 

But I wasn’t here to play by the rules. I would just have to charm my way into the treasury the way I had hoodwinked Master Hildigrim, or persuaded Neeltie I was worth befriending and falling in love with. I had done that, after all, even if she regretted it now. Surely a few guards would be easier to bamboozle than the loveliest girl in the palace and the most powerful sorcerer?

 

As I approached the treasury door, I met a trio of guards who were clearly much larger, and much less articulate, than the ones upstairs. Before I could open my mouth they barked that I wasn’t allowed here, and warned me to turn back, or I would be turned inside-out.

 

“But I was told to give this to you, as a contribution to the Royal Treasury,” I said, removing the sack. “It’s a personal donation from the renowned sorcerer and personal friend of the Queen, Master Hildigrim Blackbeard.”

 

Rather lame, I admit, but my wits were as empty as the sack at the moment. As I whisked it out, the trio of guards stepped closer, examining it, perplexed and amused.

 

“Why the Queen want that?” one asked. “Is just a sack. It have something inside?”

 

“Of course it does,” I said, bluffing. “He wouldn’t just give you a bag. Yes, a rich treasure, a fitting tribute to the coins and baubles inside.”

 

“Like what?” another asked.

 

“Oh…I wouldn’t know, I’m just the messenger. You’ll have to see for yourself.”

 

The nearest guard snatched it out of my grasp and opened the top, which had been tied by a string. He peered inside, cautiously at first, then with growing interest.

 

“Why it glowing?” he asked.

 

I merely shrugged, as I honestly didn’t know, and was trying to concoct something clever in the next three to four seconds.

 

Instead, a long, bony arm reached out of the sack and seized the guard’s throat. Before I could react, the bag gobbled him up, inflating to enormous proportions. The remaining guards reached for their swords, but a bewildering array of arms and tentacles shot out after them. There was no struggle; they simply vanished. The bag then shrank to its normal size and dropped on the floor, sagging lifelessly.

 

I crouched beside the bag, terrified to look in, but wondering if the guards were actually inside, or if they had been eaten, chewed up, digested?

 

“Hello…who’s in there?” I asked, prodding it.

 

One of the arms shot out, but not to snatch me or anything violent. It merely made a thumb’s-up gesture and a voice squeaked, “plenty more room, keep it coming.”

 

“Are they…dead?” I asked.

 

“Dead? Goodness, no. Just waiting inside. Keep it coming. Nowhere near capacity yet.”

 

My path to the treasure lay open. I timidly walked to the door and unbolted it. With an enormous creak it slid open to reveal a room gleaming with gold, jewels, armor, and goblets. I closed the door behind me and opened the sack. Take everything, every last bauble, I instructed. The hands and tentacles immediately responded, snatching objects faster than I could see them go. What would have taken me days of back-breaking toil was accomplished in little under an hour. Soon, nothing remained on the shelves and floors of the treasury except dust twinkling in the fading torchlight.

 

I feared the bag would feel like rocks—or worse, an entire mountain—but surprisingly, it weighed nothing at all. I gave everything a quick once-over before making my exit. Yet try as I might, the door wouldn’t budge. I dropped the sack and pushed with both hands, throwing my entire weight behind it. Only then could I feel the latch on the other side resisting me; somehow, it had locked in place.

 

“Can you gobble down the door as well?” I asked the sack.

 

In response, the tentacles shot out and pawed the door, feeling it up and down, like a blind man reading a stranger’s expression.

 

“Sorry, it won’t fit, and we couldn’t pull it down regardless. You’ll have to find another way out,” it squeaked.

 

“But I can’t—it’s locked from the outside!” I protested. “Can’t you do something? Maybe hurl some of the treasures against it? Break it open?”

 

The bag made a sullen, burping sound in response.

 

I smashed at the door with both fists and tried to jostle it loose. But of course the door was meant to withstand more than my pitiful assaults. I couldn’t believe it…to get this far, to have all the treasure at my fingertips only to have locked myself in!

 

I slumped against the door, realizing that by this time tomorrow I would be the richest man in the kingdom, perhaps all that remained of the once-glorious palace. Though every copper was worthless to me unless I could trade it for her, or the opportunity to perish by her side. After all, why should I save a kingdom that was already doomed? What could it give me in return?

 

Behind me, I heard the latch slide open. Someone groaned, trying to push the heavy door open. I leapt up, preparing to flee—but where? Without the treasure there was nowhere to hide. Strangely, I didn’t hear the sounds of guards or boots or weapons on the other side. It just sounded like one person. And finally, I saw the hand of that person, then an arm, a shoulder, a cheek, her hair.

 

“Neeltie!” I gasped.

 

She squeezed through the door, running up to me, yet stopping short before she did.

 

“You really did it, didn’t you?” she said, with a grin. “All by yourself?”

 

“I had no choice. It was either this, or…” I gestured.

 

“I’m ashamed of myself, Hendrick. I couldn’t sleep, knowing I’d abandoned you. I’m a terrible person.”

 

“You were scared,” I insisted, taking her hand. “Believe me, I was, too. But I didn’t come here because I was a good person. I came because of you.”

 

“Me, too,” she said, smiling shyly.

 

I took her in my arms and we kissed softly, more to apologize than anything else. When I reluctantly pulled away, I saw her eyes swollen, full of tears.

 

“Maybe it won’t come. Maybe the sorcerer was mistaken,” she whispered.

 

“I hope so, too. But if not, I’m ready. It’s all here, every last coin.”

 

“I just don’t see how it works out for us,” she continued. “If the dragon comes it’ll probably take the gold and destroy us anyway. But even if it doesn’t, once the Queen finds out what we’ve done…you can forget a hero’s welcome. They’ll never believe us.”

 

As much as I wanted to disagree with her, I knew the truth. Anyone who steals from the Queen, and not just steals, but robs her blind, pilfers the collective wealth of the kingdom, would surely be hanged. The Majordomo had even seen me and Hildigrim together: as far as the Queen was concerned, we were conspirators, agents of the dragon ourselves. He had practically set us up.

 

“Well, at least the wedding is off,” I said, with a grin. “The Duke of Whatever-His-Name-Is would never marry a thief. Your family will disown you. So will mine, if they haven’t already.”

 

“No family, no dowry,” she nodded, sniffling. “You might as well marry a peasant.”

 

“Then you’ll be the world’s richest peasant,” I said, thrusting my hand in the sack.

 

Inside, I swept over dozens of jewels and baubles before connecting with just the right object. A ring of exquisite gold and rock crystal. I took Neeltie’s hand and slipped it over her finger, where it fit beautifully, if just a bit snug.

 

“Hendrick…is this a proposal?” she grinned.

 

“I figure we have about five hours until the dragon’s arrival. Time enough to get married and spend the rest of our lives together.”

 

“It’s just enough time,” she agreed.

 

With that, we snuck out of the treasury and into the palace proper without being seen; it was late, and the courtiers were either carousing or passed-out drunk. Even the guards were taking their duties lightly, playing ratchets in a corner, or out drinking themselves. They didn’t even notice when we slipped past the gates into a courtyard blanketed by a thousand constellations.

 

“I had no idea it was so beautiful,” she whispered, looking up. “Of course, I’ve seen it from the window, but never like this, all at once.”

 

“Which one’s your favorite?” I asked.

 

She scanned the heavens excitedly, tracing the sky as more and more stars came into focus.

“That one. It so looks familiar. Do you know what it’s called?”

 

“Yes,” I smiled, “I studied them all with my tutor. You’ll never believe it…take a guess.”

 

She looked back at me, eager and astonished.

 

“Not…the Dragon?” she replied.

 

“Ha, not quite. They call it The Lovers. See how their arms meet, like they’re holding hands?”

 

She smiled and leaned into me, and we watched the stars until the first rays of light washed them out. And long after that, when a new star appeared on the horizon, getting larger and larger, as if drawn by instinct towards the palace.