White Roses a.b

chapter 18

Ash froze in the threshold, overwhelmed with the scent of herbal tea and the painful noise of an off-key duet. The millinery was easily eight times as large on the inside as it was on the out. A fire crackled in a corner fireplace, and the walls were covered with hooks and shelves that displayed an assortment of elaborate headdresses. Top hats and bowlers, bonnets and coronets, straw hats and tall, pointed dunce caps. There were hats covered in living wildflowers and hats blooming with peacock feathers and hats fluttering with the wings of dozens of vibrant dragonflies, some of them occasionally giving off a puff of flame and smoke.

As Ashley stared, Raven abandoned Andy's shoulder and swooped inside. The wind from his feathers beat against her hair and – for but a moment – his shadow elongated across the shop's wooden floor. Ash's heart stuttered as she remembered the ominous shadow that had followed her over the castle lawn. The hooded figure, the raised axe.

She blinked, and the chill was gone. Just a bird, now settling on a ceramic bust of a clown with its silly, grinning face painted with black diamonds.

  Andy drew Ashley towards the long table that stretched down the center of the hat shop. The surface was draped in bright-colored scarves of various textures and cluttered with teapots and cups and cream and sugar dishes and spoons of silver and gold and porcelain. The chairs around the table were just as mismatched – from wingbacks to schoolhouse benches to ottomans to a sweet little rocker. At the far end of the table was a chair that was luxurious enough for the King himself to have sat upon.

The occupants of the table were equally assorted. A Porcupine stabbed at a plate of scones with one of his quills; a Bloodhound spoke in hushed tones with a petite grey-haired woman who was working at knitting needles in between sips of tea; two Goldfish swam figures of eight around each other inside a fishbowl filled with tea-stained water; a Dormouse dozed inside the mane of a Lion who was singing low to himself in vocal warm-up; a Parrot argued with a Cockatoo; a Bumblebee skimmed a newspaper; a Boa Constrictor tuned a fiddle; a Chameleon squinted in concentration as she attempted to match the exact pattern of her upholstered chair; a Turtle dunked half of his cucumber sandwich into his cup.

The noisy whooperups at the center of it all were a March Hare, who stood on top of the table, and a Squirrel perched on his head. They each wore ridiculous floral bonnets, though holes had been added to allow their ears to poke through. Together they were the source of the very loud and rather obnoxious duet that had first pierced Ash's eardrums. The song was about starfish and stardust, though they both seemed too hoarse and confused to get any of the words straight, and they were horribly murdering the tune. Ashley cringed as the song dragged onward.

With one hand on her elbow, Andy guided Ashley around the table, towards the man who was occupying the throne at the far end. He was exquisitely dressed, with plum coat-tails and a crimson silk cravat. One finger skimmed idly along the brim of a matching purple top hat. Though he was young, his hair was silver-white, with a few choppy locks tumbling around his ears and the rest tied with a velvet ribbon at the nape of his neck.

He was slouched and apparently bored, feet set up beside a half-empty cup of tea.

Then his attention landed on Andy and turned lively, a grin fast to brighten his face. He swung his feet off the table.

'Well, well, if it isn't our star performer, returned from the world of gallantry and riches.' He stood and gave Ashley a quick embrace, before pulling away and grasping him by the shoulders. His smile had turned to scrutiny.

'Don't seem much changed,' he mused, shutting one eye at a time to complete his inspection. 'A bit scrawnier perhaps. Don't they feed you in that fancy castle of yours?' He pinched Jest's cheek, but was pushed away.