Three dozen servants in royal livery spilled through the doors, carrying crates and bales of clothes and bedding, pillows, mattresses, books, toys, dishes, and swaddled cauldrons of hot food, fresh from the royal kitchens. Hot food such as the children had never seen in their lives. While the foster parents stood and stared, their mouths dropping open a little more with each new gift that appeared, a tall, handsome young man directed the distribution. He was evidently a prince, even without the thin gold band that sat at a rakish angle across his forehead. His square jaw and high cheekbones, green-blue eyes that glistened like jewels, the pure gold of his hair, the flawless complexion, the sternness of his mouth that seemed to be joyous at the same time, and the trumpet clarity of his voice. Anyone could tell he was pure royal blood, even without the rich clothes and the king's crest of a dragon coiled around a stack of books that adorned his surcoat. The foster parents bowed and curtseyed to him when the bounty had been put away and the royal servants left the warehouse again, and only the prince stayed behind. Merrigan stayed back, arms crossed over her chest, caught between laughter and delight and scorn, and she waited.
Some blindness obviously hasn't been cured, Bib remarked.
Honestly, didn't anyone remember what she had told them last night? They had discussed the entire revelation for what seemed like hours, before they could get the children to go to bed.
"Aubrey!" one of the littlest girls shrieked, when she had finally pushed her way through the crowd of children. Of course, they had disobeyed orders to stay out of sight and stood all around the kitchen area, silent with awe at the wonders given to them. The child giggled, her voice like bells chiming, and leaped at him. "My Aubrey!" She laughed as Aubrey lifted her up high, twirling her around, and then hugged her close.
After that, it was chaos as the children gathered around, wanting to touch him, hug him, tug on his royal clothes and make sure they were real. The hot food had started to cool by the time someone got enough sense to pull out the new dishes, enough for everyone, and serve up the food. Merrigan suspected no one even noticed, in the wonder of having sausages enough for everyone to have two each, and bowls full of a rich, fruity, hot cereal turned golden with honey, and bowls slopping over with cream, not milk that had to be mixed with water to make sure everyone could have a cup. There were muffins and a dozen different egg dishes and kippers and kidneys and sour, thick fruit soup and other dishes that Merrigan could barely remember from the days of more-than-enough in the palace of Avylyn. The children ate until some of them looked a little green from the surfeit of riches. Aubrey's rich new clothes were rather wrinkled and smeared with breakfast by the time everyone had had a chance to hug him and get close enough to look in his eyes and make sure that yes, even though he looked so different, he was still their beloved Aubrey.
Gilda and Aubrey married two moons later. Merrigan and Belinda and their girls had the honor of making the royal wedding garments, for them and most of the court. They barely had time to finish all the clothes, but no other seamstresses or tailors in the entire city would do. The orphan warehouse had the protection of the Crown Prince, and everyone wanted to patronize the place.
No word had come yet of the fate of the weaver and his wife, but Merrigan had the satisfaction of receiving several letters from Warden and Miles and Quincy. Every sea captain and every port master and the coastal patrol ships had been put on alert, to ensure they didn't cross over the ocean to continue their deceptive practices. She was also pleased to hear how her friends were faring as they settled down into marriage and their chosen lives. And she wept a little, when all of them asked, with every letter, when she would return and visit them. For some odd reason, they all credited her with them finding their happiness and their true loves.
THE DAY AFTER THE ROYAL wedding, Belinda woke up everyone with a mad dash to the garderobe, where she clung to the wooden seat and heaved and gagged for a good ten minutes before the convulsions of nausea stopped. Merrigan had Lily go to the kitchen, to verify her suspicions. Sure enough, the cooking crew had been at work for half an hour and the ingredients that had been soaking overnight were just starting to bubble in the enormous cauldrons. Breakfast that morning was peas porridge, although certainly a much higher quality peas porridge than the orphans had eaten in the past.
"I don't understand," she sighed, once Belinda had curled up in her shelf bed again, after changing into a fresh nightgown. The one she had worn to bed was soaked with sweat. "How could you smell it from the other side of the building? And how could you have such a bad reaction? We had peas porridge for breakfast four days ago. Gretchen spilled some on you when you helped feed her, and you didn't get sick."
"Princes," Belinda said, her voice reduced to a rasp like sand. "There are princes close
