“Bradley,” Sir George said, “I know that you won’t believe this when I say it, butyou’reawfully smart too. And you were a very good king.”
The room filled with nods of agreement.
There was an unpleasant sound, like a damp thigh being peeled away from a leather seat, and Bradley’s toadaphone came clambering moistly over the arm of Bradley’s chair. Itcleared its throat. Then it cried out, “Hail! King Bradley! Destroyer of the Kingdom! Hail! Citizen Bradley! Bringer of the Democratic Nation-State! Hail! King Janet! Winner of the Entirely Free and Fair Election in an Unprecedented Landslide That Surprised Even the New King Herself!”
“Ah!” Gretsella said. “I amextremelysurprised by this newstoo.”
Chapter 11
In Which Happily Ever Et Cetera
Janet, when Gretsella tracked her down in Bradley’s throne room, looked torn between delight at her own success and the vague unease of a young child who is just beginning to suspect that he might not actually be a faster sprinter than his father after all. “I can explain!” Janet said.
“No, you can’t,” Gretsella said. “Half of those votes for you were my doing. Don’t think you managed to get away with something without my knowing, Janet. Your machinations were not onlyanticipatedbut entirely welcome. Now Herman won’t have to be troubled with a kingship he never wanted, andyouwill receive exactly what you deserve.”
It was, as far as a victory went, admittedly somewhat technical. It wouldn’t exactly pass muster with the more discerning class of witch. If word got out that Gretsella had been forced to scramble after an untrained upstart like Janet witha little last-minute magic just to maintain the upper hand, it would be the talk of all the covens of Evermore for weeks. Not atotalhumiliation, but certainly a blow to the witchly ego. And what did Gretsella have if not her witchly ego?
Bradleywas the answer. Not one that she would repeat before a bunch of stuffy old-fashioned witches, of course. Not a very witchy answer at all. It was more than a little embarrassing to be forced to admit that your real reason for being was something as soft and weak and dull and unimpressive aslove.
It was also the only true answer. And the strongest witches of all, Gretsella had found—the old ones, the wise ones, the ones as dug into their power as an ancient tree into the earth—would toss aside a thousand pounds ofinterestingorimpressivefor a tiny, precious scrap of somethingtrue.
Janet would just have to learn that for herself, one day.
Still, Gretsella couldn’t just let her think she’d gotten away with it. So she looked Janet straight in the eye and said, “I curse you, Janet.”
“Oh, please,” Janet said. “I’ve heard you say that about three dozen times in the past month. You drank too much champagne the other night and then cursed a chambermaid for dusting too loudly the next morning. You neveractuallycurse anyone.”
Gretsella gave her head a regretful shake. “It really is a shame that you never trained as a witch, Janet,” she said. “You could have been a good one. You’ve been denying your nature, though, so you don’t understand how a real witch thinks.” A dark storm cloud gathered directly over their heads. Thisalone would have been unnerving, considering that it was a fine, clear day. As things were, it was even more disconcerting, considering that one couldn’t usually look up and see storm clouds gathering around the ceiling light fixtures. “A witchneverallows herself to become predictable. And I curse you, Janet Findimatabar. I curse you with a curse that shall abide unto death itself.”
Janet scoffed, which meant that she snorted a little air out of her nose in a skeptical and disrespectful sort of way. Gretsella had never really understood what it meant in books when they said that someonescoffed, and she was grateful to have been given, at long last, a live demonstration. Not grateful enough to stop cursing Janet, though. You couldn’t scoff at a witch who knew what scoffing meant and expect to get away with a warning. There was another threatening roll of thunder. “I curse you, Janet Findimatabar, withhonesty.”
A bolt of lightning streaked across the room and incinerated part of a particularly elaborate fresco installed by the same historical king who’d added the cherubs to the stableyard. A prancing nymph had been deprived completely of a bunch of grapes, and a leering satyr lost the portion of his anatomy that had, presumably, fueled the leer. A few feet below these developments stood Janet, looking as if the mighty dam that defended her reservoir of self-confidence had sprung a small leak. “Honesty, Grandmother? What, exactly, does that mean?”
“When you have to ask whathonestyis, Janet Findimatabar, you know that you’ve got problems with it,” Gretsella said,withextremesmugness. “And from this day forward, you will only ever be able to speak the pure and honest truth, which will come in handy over the course of a career in politics. The people will praise the name of Honest King Janet for generations!”
“You’re a nasty, spiteful old hag,” Janet said, her evident horror mingled with what Gretsella was quite sure was grudging admiration.
“Thankyou,” Gretsella said.
“You know what a horrible curse that is for someone in my situation, don’t you? It could end up getting me killed.”
“I do know,” Gretsella said. “And there’s nothing keeping you as king other than you wanting the job. You could give it up just like Bradley did.”
“I’m notBradley,” Janet said. “I didn’t just stumble into this. I’ve been making my way up in the world since I first left my village when I was eighteen. I’m not giving up now just because some old witch wants me to.”
Gretsella raised her eyebrows. “You’ve been working your way up all this time, hmm? Plotting and scheming and grasping at power. It didn’t make Bradley very happy when he had it. Do you think it’ll be different for you, Carrots?”
Janet went pale. “How did you—”
“A witch has her ways,” Gretsella said. “WhyCarrots? Your hair isn’t red.”
Janet blushed. “I got a terrible sunburn when I was eight,” she said. “All over my legs.”
“Ah,” Gretsella said, “I see.” Then she said, “Don’t look atme like that, girl. Curses don’t mean anything to people like us anyway.”
“I’m not awitch,” Janet said.
“Whatever you say,” Gretsella said. “When you change your mind about this silly king business and decide that you want arealjob, come and find me. Just walk into the forest and ask for the witch, and you’ll be sent straight to me.”
