Princess Juniper of the Anju by Ammi-Joan Paquette

Author:Ammi-Joan Paquette
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-04-27T11:29:20+00:00

13

EACH CANDIDATE WAS PROVIDED WITH A pouch of food, two horns of water, a pair of flint stones for starting a fire, two wool blankets, and an expandable oilskin frame that could be erected into a makeshift shelter. They could bring whatever other objects of their own that they deemed needful, but only what they could carry on their person. Juniper had her journal and charcoal stylus, her trusty bone-handled comb tucked up the hidden pocket in her sleeve, as well as the valuable tome, Mountain Ranges of the Lower Continent (which she had been studying with a fierceness that would have made Erick proud). Beyond this, Juniper and Cyril had little of use in their carry-bags; she could only hope what they had would be enough.

The quarters set up for the four candidates and their seconds were a series of small rooms clustered around a high-ceilinged common area inside a giant fallen dropsy tree. The heart of the tree had been hollowed in a silky, natural-looking finish reminiscent of Juniper’s cozy bedroom back in the heart of the Great Tree—only on a much bigger scale. With a pang, she realized how she’d come to think of Queen’s Basin as home, and how much she missed it.

Juniper and Cyril spent the next three days resting, exercising, and preparing as best they could for the Trials to come. From time to time, Juniper glimpsed Odessa across the clearing or on a nearby tree-porch, and the pull was so strong, she had to wrap her arms tightly around her middle to keep from chasing her grandmother down on the spot. To be so close, and yet so far removed . . . it was the purest form of torture.

Once the Trials are over, she told herself over and over, there will be time then. Time aplenty.

It wasn’t nearly enough, but for now, it had to do.

For the most part, they avoided the other competitors across the narrow passageways of their shelter. Juniper peppered Cyril with endless questions and found him to be a fount of knowledge about Anju history and culture, which she soaked up like a thirsty plant under a new watering pot. Unfortunately, Cyril knew nothing about the Trials themselves. Grudgingly, Zetta admitted during one of their more cordial exchanges over an evening meal that the other candidates were not much the wiser.

“Nor would we speak of it if we knew,” she said. “It’s a sacred tradition, and the details of the quest are bestowed in confidence at the start of each cycle, from chief to candidates. Because Chief Darla is not here to share the terms with us, as would ordinarily happen, we will hear them from Mother Odessa instead. But to talk of it among others, to scavenge and scrounge for information is simply not done!” She glowered, but Juniper met her gaze levelly.

“I understand, and I will respect your traditions fully. They’re my traditions now, as well.” She paused. “Look, I’m not here to be your enemy, Zetta.

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