Jack had found the golden coin in the cake and so, as Lord of Misrule, was leading a riotous procession around the banqueting hall, singing, banging pots and pans with wooden spoons, dancing jigs on tables and swinging off the chandeliers.
Molly and Peregrine had been dancing for hours but, hot and breathless, had found a shadowy corner in which to throw themselves down on a cushioned bench and gladly gulp at their goblets of golden elderflower wine. ‘What a night!’ Molly cried.
‘Twelfth Night is always wild and merry and out of control,’ Peregrine said. ‘It’s the end of Yuletide, you see’.
‘It seems a shame,’ she said. ‘I like to see starkin and hearthkin and wildkin dancing and feasting together like this, everyone happy and joyous’.
‘We might need to think of a new name for all our people,’ Peregrine said. ‘I mean, what am I? I’m all of those things and none of those things. And if all goes well, I’ll not be the only one whose blood is mingled’.
Molly looked at King Merry, the starkin crown pushed back rakishly on his head as he played a rollicking tune that just forced your toe to tap and your fingers to drum. ‘What about the merrykin?’ she suggested.
Peregrine’s eyes blazed with excitement. ‘Molly, I love you!’ he cried and leant forward to kiss her full on the mouth. Molly slid her hand into his unruly curls and kissed him back with all her heart. They only broke apart when Tom-Tit-Tot hurtled down to land on the back of their bench, hooting, ‘Ooooh, aren’t they sweet? Ooooh, feel the heat!’
Molly turned crimson, but Peregrine only batted him away, saying, ‘Go and bother someone else, Tommy-boy!’
The omen-imp shot off as fast as a speeding arrow to tease Princess Adora and the Marsh King, who were dancing a steamy estampida in the middle of the floor.
‘You might need to rescue your father,’ Peregrine said.
‘Oh, I think he’ll be fine. It’s your starkin princess who needs rescuing! My father looks ready to sweep her right off her feet’.
‘That’s Twelfth Night for you,’ Peregrine replied, fanning his hot face with his hand. ‘Don’t worry! Life returns to normal tomorrow’.
Some of the light went out of Molly’s face. She sighed. ‘I don’t really want it to. These last few days have been so marvellous! I mean … apart from you being poisoned and Jack almost dying and the battle …’
Peregrine laughed. ‘I know what you mean. I think the last few days have been marvellous too’. He couldn’t resist kissing her red mouth once more.
‘I guess the adventure had to end sometime,’ she said wistfully, a long moment later.
Peregrine smiled and seized her hand. ‘There’ll be other adventures,’ he promised. ‘But until then, let’s dance!’
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In a vain attempt to help the count, two hearthkin boys find themselves catapulted into the adventure of their lives. Pursued by Lord Zavion’s soldiers, they take refuge in the Perilous Forest and fall into company with two other runaways, neither of whom are what they seem.
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Next shall be the king-breaker, the king-maker, though broken himself he shall be.
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They must journey on a secret mission to rescue a wildkin princess from her imprisonment in a crystal tower.
Princess Rozalina has the power to enchant with words—she can conjure up a plague of rats or wish the dead out of their graves. When she casts a curse, it has such power it will change her world forever.
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