Palace of Lies by Margaret Peterson Haddix Page B

comparing stories.
    â€œThe queen was dangerous,” Janelia said, dropping a large sliver of bloody glass onto a bloody rag.
    That was in my foot? I thought, suddenly so queasy that I thought I might vomit or faint.
    Janelia evidently misunderstood the expression of dismay on my face.
    â€œOh, of course, Queen Charlotte Aurora was also beautiful and gracious and kind, and all the servants loved her,” Janelia hastened to say. “I can’t speak for the likes of Lord Throckmorton.”
    I kept silent. If I tried to speak I would surely scream or wail or maybe even curse.
    â€œBut the queen was . . . reckless,” Janelia said. “She was so good herself, she didn’t understand that other people could be evil through and through. She just thought they were misunderstood.”
    â€œLike Lord Throckmorton,” I muttered. Saying his name was almost like cursing. “The queen didn’t know he was evil.”
    Janelia nodded. She paused, looking off toward the door.
    â€œServants hear things,” she said. “They may not understand it all, but . . . everybody knew the king and queen were in danger. The queen was pushing for the end of the war, and she couldn’t see why it wasn’t easy. She didn’t see that . . . that some men would kill to keep the war going. Because they were profiting.”
    I shivered. Had the other girls and I been as reckless as our supposed mother, the queen? We had wanted to end the war too; we had actually accomplished a peace treaty. Well, all but the formal signing of the document. I knewfor a fact that Lord Throckmorton had made a fortune from the war, as had some of the other advisers we sent to prison. Were there others we didn’t know about who still had reason to want war? Who were willing to kill to get their way?
    Someone burned down our palace—is that proof that warmongers are still out there? Someone knocked out at least Fidelia and me in the middle of the fire—was that because of the peace treaty? I wondered. If Madame Bisset is to be believed—which she isn’t! She isn’t!—then someone made sure that all the other princesses besides me are dead. Because . . . because . . .
    A great sob rose inside my throat but I didn’t let it out. I clamped my lips together and hoped that Janelia thought I was grimacing only because of my wounded feet.
    â€œFourteen years ago, none of the other servants wanted to serve the queen because of the rumors,” Janelia said. “Some said her enemies would strike in the middle of the night; some said they’d strike by day and they’d probably kill everyone in the room with her, to kill all the witnesses. . . .”
    â€œLord Throckmorton did kill all the witnesses,” I said. “Even the men who’d worked with him to kill the king.”
    Janelia shook her head, ever so slightly.
    â€œNot all the witnesses,” she said softly.
    My eyes widened, and for a moment I really did forget the searing pain in my feet.
    Janelia gave a heavy sigh.
    â€œThe queen’s last chambermaid quit in hysterics the same day the queen gave birth,” she said. “The rumors . . . I didn’t know this at the time, because the girl peeling potatoes is always the last to know anything. But everyone believed that the assassins wouldn’t strike until a new prince or princess was born.”
    â€œUntil there was an heir,” I said bitterly. “Until there was a tiny royal baby who would be totally dependent on her advisers for years to come. A tiny royal baby who could be molded and shaped and manipulated . . .”
    I knew now that I hadn’t ever been the real true princess—the one with the actual blood of her parents running through her veins. But I had played that role long enough to know how this part of the story went.
    â€œYes,” Janelia said, She