Read Twice Upon a Marigold for Free Online Page B

rushed up the staircase to Swithbert's breakfast room. She knew she was likely to find her father and Ed there at this hour, and they would know where Christian was. As she got to the top of the stairs, Bub and Cate came racing down the hall toward Flopsy, Mopsy, and Topsy, growling like tigers. They stopped, hackles raised and fangs bared at the smaller dogs, who snarled right back.
    "Stop that! All of you!" Marigold ordered.
    Of course they ignored her.
    "Whatever disagreements you have among yourselves," she went on as she kept going down the corridor, "now is not the time to be airing them. We need to find Christian."
    At his name, all the dogs abandoned their conflicts and jealousies and followed Marigold. When she opened the large carved door to the breakfast room, the dogs surged past her. They leaped on Ed, bringing him down in a pile of fur as they competed to get the blue squeaky toy, which they had all sniffed out and located in his pocket.
    In the distraction of the dog attack, Marigold hardly registered who else was in the room. Once she knew that the dogs hadn't hurt Ed, she looked around and saw Christian (with relief), Swithbert (with affection), and Olympia—wait—Olympia?
    "Mother," she gasped.
    "Yes, it's me," Olympia replied. "Surprised?"
    "That is hardly the word for it," Marigold said, having trouble catching her breath. For the last year she'd been fervently grateful that she'd never have to deal with Olympia again. She'd been so sure that the woman who'd made her life as Princess of Beaurivage so miserable, with her constant criticism, and punishments, and insistence on that horrible bow-laden wardrobe, was gone for good. Once Marigold had learned that Olympia was not really her mother—not even any blood relation at all—she had vowed never to refer to Olympia as her mother again. But shock and habit can make one do odd things. And now, here Olympia was again, a bad dream that didn't disappear upon awakening.
    But Marigold had something else, something more important, to take care of first. Turning to Christian, she asked, "Are you all right?"
    "No," Christian said. "My heart hurts."
    Tears came into Marigold's eyes. "Mine, too."
    Christian held his hands out to her. "I'm sorry. I don't want to ever hear you say that again."
    She went into his arms. "Me, too."
    Olympia cleared her throat. "Marigold!" she snapped. "That is no way to welcome your mother who was believed to be dead."
    "You're not my mother," Marigold said, her voice muffled against Christian's chest. "I'm never calling you 'Mother' again. My real mother was a village girl whose name you never even bothered to remember. But even if I'm adopted, Swithbert has been my father in a way you never were my mother."
    Olympia turned a basilisk glare at Swithbert. "What is she saying?"
    "The truth," Swithbert said, sounding very kingly. "As you well know."
    For once, Olympia was at a loss for words. But not for long. "Be that as it may, I'm the only mother she's ever known. And I'm the queen!"
    "I'm a queen now, too," Marigold said. "I'm no longer the Princess of Beaurivage that you can push around. And unless you're even more self-involved and oblivious than I think you are, you must have noticed that no one seems especially glad to see you."
    Although she was making this part up, Marigold
had always sensed the moods of Beaurivage in a way Olympia never could. And Marigold knew how the populace had felt about their queen. Oh, maybe there were a few subjects with extra-large hearts who would be happy she wasn't dead—but she couldn't think who they might be.
    "That's a
lie
!" Olympia exploded. "Everyone in the market square shouted out my name in welcome. They've missed me. Even Swithbert missed me. Didn't you?" She turned to him.
    "Hmmm," he said. King Swithbert was never deliberately unkind to anyone, even people he didn't especially care for. But he also tried to be scrupulously honest at all times. His dilemma was