And, to be honest with herself, Celie wanted to know what it would be like to have a pet unicorn.
“I’ve spent too much time around Lulath,” Celie muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lilah said with a huff.
“It means, yes, I’ll help you,” Celie said.
Lilah squealed and hugged her.
“Calm down,” Celie said, worried that someone would see and ask what Lilah was so excited about. “You don’t want to let the cat out of the bag.”
“The unicorn out of the bag,” Lilah said gleefully.
“Unicorns?” Pogue asked, coming out of the hatch near their feet. “What unicorns?” He put a hand over his eyes for a moment. “Do I even want to know?”
“It’s none of your concern,” Lilah snapped.
“Lilah!” Celie said, as Pogue’s face turned red.
“Oh, I would say that it is Pogue’s concern,” Queen Celina said. “I would say that it’s all of our concern.” She arched an eyebrow at Lilah. “First apologize to Pogue, and then tell us what this is about unicorns.”
Chapter
8
They fell into a routine over the next few days. In the mornings they would train their griffins in the garden, and in the afternoons they would go to the Ship and help wherever they could. Lilah developed a keen skill at coiling ropes, Celie learned how to hang doors on their hinges, and Rolf hammered anything that had not yet been hammered into place.
The griffins were kept out of trouble by having them fetch and carry things in baskets. The Grathian workers didn’t like it at first, but they soon got used to the griffins, and even began to politely ask them for specific things in halting Sleynth.
“We should have this done right on schedule,” Pogue told Celie as they hung the last door. “And Lilah will have her fireworks and her Ship together.” He said it with a surprising lack of bitterness.
Celie looked at him. Before Lulath and Lilah had started whispering in corners and then declaring their undying love for each other, Pogue had hung around the Castle mostly to flirt with Lilah, and occasionally to get Rolf into (and then usually out of) trouble. When they’d been in Hatheland, Pogue had definitely been jealous of Lilah and Lulath’s budding romance, but now he seemed indifferent.
Pogue saw the way Celie was looking at him and shrugged.
“Why shouldn’t she marry Lulath and be happy?” he said. “I like Lulath.”
“Everyone does,” Celie agreed. “It would be hard not to. But—”
Pogue shook his head. “It was fun to be in love with Lilah,” he told her. “But I don’t actually love Lilah. I mean, not like that.” He made a face. “I mean, she’s much smarter than I think we all give her credit for. But she’s a princess. She needs to marry a prince like Lulath, and not a blacksmith turned knight.”
“Turned griffin rider,” Celie said, slotting the last hinge into place.
“Thank you,” Pogue said. “Yes, and a griffin rider.”
“Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t have cared if it had been you and not Lulath who wanted to marry Lilah,” Celie told him, though she wasn’t entirely sure about that.
Maybe they would have. They had been awfully pleased that Lilah was marrying into the wealthy and powerful Grathian royal family. But it didn’t matter now.
“I’m just happy for Lilah that she’s going to marry someone she loves,” Pogue said, picking up the spare odds and ends and putting them in a basket. “I hope you get to do the same.”
Celie didn’t have a reply for that. She hadn’t ever thought about it much, although she knew Rolf had. Everyone knew that her parents had been sealed up together in a room by the Castle itself, in order to steer them into a betrothal. Celie wasn’t sure which worried Rolf more: that the Castle would choose a wife for him, or that their parents would do it.
But now she was worried about herself. What if the Castle chose someone for her whom she didn’t even know? Or what if the Castle didn’t? Would her parents choose someone for her? Some unknown prince from Bendeswe? A distant lord from Sleyne City?
“Forget I said anything,” Pogue said, looking at her in alarm.
“Why would you say that to me?” Celie demanded as they returned the basket of bits and pieces to the head carpenter and waited for another assignment. “I’m never going to be able to think of anything else!”
“Why, what are we thinking about?” Rolf said, putting down his hammer and stretching. “Is it that weird, spongy sea-something that was in the soup last night? I know I can’t stop thinking about how often they serve that, and whether there’s a polite way to refuse.”
“No,” Celie said.
“Yes,” Pogue said at the same time. “We’re talking about food,” he added.
“What was that last night?” Rolf said, making a face. “It wasn’t a fish. It wasn’t a bird. It was all squishy and . . . chewy.” He shuddered.
“I fed mine to JouJou,” Celie admitted, glad to change the subject. “I feed a lot of my food to JouJou.”
“That’s ingenious,” Rolf said. “I’m going to have to get a dog to sit in my lap during meals!”
“That shouldn’t be hard,” Pogue said. “Plenty to choose from.”
“Why do you think JouJou likes me so much?” Celie said with amusement. “I’ve been doing this since Lulath came to the Castle!”
“You little sneak,” Rolf said in admiration. “But what do you eat?”
“Well,” Celie said, “this may be the reason why the kitchen staff at the Castle—and now the Sanctuary—think griffins live on bread, cheese, apples, and custard.”
“My hat goes off to you,” Rolf said. “If I had a hat, it would, that is.”
“Have you not a hat?” Orlath came over to them. “Is it being stolen?” He looked anxious.
“Um, no . . .” Rolf said. “I just . . . it’s just a saying, I suppose.”
“Ah, well, my Jocko is being the worst of thieves,” he said, feeding a nut to the monkey on his shoulder. “If ever you are having something stolen, please be telling me. I will see if this bad boy has it.”
“The griffins love shiny things,” Celie told him. “So if it’s jewelry and it’s not Jocko, we’ll check the griffins’ beds.”
“So like being birds,” Orlath marveled as they watched Arrow soar overhead, bringing a bucket of tar to one of the men.
“I can’t tell how much of their behavior is like a lion’s,” Celie said. “I’ve never seen a lion in real life.”
“Well,” Orlath said, “be coming with me on a journey, and there will—”
“Is that Lady Griffin?” Celie said, interrupting him.
She didn’t mean to, and she apologized a second later, but by that time they could all see Lady Griffin winging her way toward them. They all paused to watch as the queen of the griffins landed neatly on the deck just in front of them. She turned her back to them and looked over her shoulder, so that they could see a scroll tucked into her harness.