Wisdom's Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page B

who—or what—could it possibly be, headed straight for Bacio—and straight for the inn?
From the Desk of the Queen Mother of Montagne, & Her Cat
My Dearest Temperence, Queen of Montagne,
Granddaughter, where to begin! Last night we dined in Frizzante, where the lamb roast was excellent, if not quite on par with Montagne's, though of course I am too partial to judge. Our sleep, too, was quite satisfactory. When shall I learn, even in my dotage, to accept every favorable event with extreme caution, given that it will doubtless progress to disaster? It most certainly did in this case, for the tavern keeper this morning set out a great spread of oysters. Oysters, in mountains yet shrouded in snow! Only Dizzy, myself, and a coachman abstained, though in Dizzy's case it was ungodly curiosity and not common sense that preserved her. Escoffier and I breakfasted instead on the last of the lamb, Escoffier regarding the scraped bone with such longing that I feared he would metamorphose into a hound and drag it off to bury.
Our subsequent trip through Alpsburg Pass I shall never forget, much as I long to; I'd wager the kingdom that no member of our party will ever again dine on oysters. Within two hours of our passage the first guard collapsed from his horse. In the next thirty minutes every man and woman save Dizzy, myself, and—blessedly—our coachman was similarly afflicted; poor Modesty and Patience reclined with their heads hanging from the carriage windows, moaning piteously, while Patience's maid lay curled at our feet in a miserable pile, not that the others were cogent enough to object, or even to pay heed.
Dizzy of course fled the carriage at once. I grant she made herself more than useful by leading a string of horses while the guards drooped green-faced in their saddles, though her exhaustive questioning of the coachman on the art of bareback riding, his encyclopedic knowledge of which she has only recently become aware, demonstrated all too publicly her indifference to the suffering around her. Within the carriage, I kept a handkerchief—perfumed, you may be sure!—to my nose, removing it only to open the door at critical moments and to reassure my companions that they were not facing death, much as they might crave it at that minute. Escoffier dozed beside me, occasionally cracking one eye when the moaning grew too vocal.
When not serving as stopgap nursemaid, I distracted myself from this pageant of wretchedness by pondering how exactly—and when!—we are to arrive at Phraugheloch Palace. Our tribulations have left us seven days overdue at the Farina court; while rational minds accept this as ill fate, you and I both know that Duchess Wilhelmina does not gravitate toward rationality, or charity. As much as I fear the insult—or what she will doubtless take as insult—of our late arrival, I worry still more about the poor showing we will make at the palace gates. Though we of Montagne have little regard for protocol's more obscure constrictions, I recognize that our arrival sans retinue will leave us looking more beggars than sovereigns—which a queen must never allow, particularly when dealing with Farina! Patience and Modesty, and their maids, too, require several days' recovery—days we do not have. If only I could conjure footmen from mice! Fear not; I write only in jest. I would never seriously consider such a hazard. Sorcery would only multiply our quandaries. Perhaps I could dress Escoffier in livery and put him to work, though I'm sure he would fall asleep on his feet—which puts him in league with most castle staff!
Quipping aside, I cannot— we cannot—offend the duke and his mother; how awful it would be for Dizzy to face such prejudice at the commencement of her matrimony! Truly, I am absolutely frantic; our wretched delay, capped by this horrific oyster sickness, has put me in a state of disorientation such as I have not known in years. A solution will come, I am certain, to our desperate