Thrice Upon a Marigold Read Online Free PDF Page A

eyebrows raised with curiosity.
    â€œHi, Papa. Wendell. Ed. Magnus. Chris. This is—oh, I forgot to get your names, though you both do look familiar. Anyway, they say they have something to tell us. Something of life-and-death importance.”
    Chris stood up and dropped his cards on the table. “What is it?”
    He always seemed to know, Marigold thought with affection, which things to take seriously and which not to. Probably the word
death
had done it, she considered.
    â€œYour Highness, thank you for seeing us,” Sebastian said. “We apologize for not making an appointment, but this couldn’t wait.” He lowered his voice. “Is it okay to talk in front of them?” he asked, indicating the other card players.
    â€œYes, of course. But if you’d prefer, we could go into my private chambers.”
    Phoebe and Sebastian looked at each other and nodded. Neither wished to have their identities revealed to any more people than absolutely necessary now that they had managed to create a little anonymity for themselves.
    â€œKeep playing,” Christian said to Swithbert, Ed, Wendell, and Magnus. “I know my presence has never discouraged any of you from cheating.”
    â€œYou got that right,” Swithbert said.
    â€œNot me,” Magnus said. “I only cheat when I have to. When everybody else does.”
    â€œSomehow even magic isn’t enough help in Snipsnapsnorum,” Wendell said. “Cheating becomes
necessary.
”
    â€œYou do the same when the circumstances are on the other foot, Chris,” Ed said. (It had taken a while, but eventually the court residents had gotten used to Ed’s creative expressions. Sometimes they even knew what he was talking about.)
    â€œI’m afraid you’re right,” Chris said. He and Marigold walked with Phoebe and Sebastian to a tall door with an ornate iron closure. This door opened into a large, comfortably furnished sitting room. A fire blazed in the hearth, and the heavy velvet drapes were open to the wet and fading daylight. Chris gestured to a big plush sofa, and Phoebe and Sebastian sat—on the edge, their hands on their knees, as if prepared to leap up and run if they had to. Christian and Marigold sat across from them in two high-backed chairs.
    â€œNow,” Chris said, “what’s this life-and-death thing?”
    Phoebe looked at Sebastian. Sebastian looked at Phoebe. He took a deep breath, then said, “Somebody’s going to kidnap Princess Poppy.”
    Marigold gasped so loudly, Chris reached over to pat her on the back, as if she were choking. She put her hand to her mouth and said, “Who? When? I was just in the nursery and everything was fine. What makes you think this could happen?”
    Sebastian told them about the pigeon and the intercepted message—and what it was about and what had happened to it. “So we have no proof, and we don’t know who the message was intended for. But we believe it.”
    â€œAnd why is that?” Chris asked.
    They were silent.
    As the silence stretched on, Chris continued. “Do you have any idea how many threats we receive every week? As peaceful as the kingdom of Zandelphia- Beaurivage is now, there are days when I think everybody in it is annoyed about something and they want to take it out on me. So I need to know why you think this one is serious.”
    Finally Phoebe spoke. “Because we’re sure we know who sent the message, and we know what they’re capable of.”
    â€œAnd how do you know this?”
    Sometimes Marigold was in awe of just how kingly Chris could be. The forceful way he now spoke to the two on the couch made it inconceivable that they could refuse to answer. Yet, for a moment, it seemed that they were going to.
    Finally the girl spoke again. “Because one of them is my father. Boris, the ex-torturer-in-chief.”
    â€œAnd the other,” the young man said softly,