“I suppose he needs two chimneys if he’s a goldsmith. He must have one fire to melt the gold and another fire for cooking his food,” Rose said, pressing her face against a small windowpane. It was almost impossible to see anything. The back part of the cottage had been built out, and as she peered through that tiny window, she saw a workbench and could just make out a row of tools and a very small cast-iron wood-burning stove, on top of which was a pot. It must be for smelting the precious metals.

Franny could tell that Rose was bitterly disappointed that the goldsmith was not home. “Try not to fret, Rose. You’ll catch up with him soon. I think the old lady was right. He was probably called upon to make new medals and decorations for the new king.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Rose said.

They mounted their horses and headed back to Hatfield.

“There’s the shed ahead. Better stop and get my saddle. Won’t do for me to ride in bareback.”

Rose wondered as she slid off the horse if September would still be there, guarding the saddle. She was, and she seemed to sense Rose’s disappointment. She leapt into Rose’s arms and licked Rose’s cheek with her warm pink tongue. Rose looked into the cat’s lovely green eyes. She could see her own reflection. “The old lady said I looked like my dad,” she whispered. “Imagine that, September.” The cat looked up at her and seemed to almost speak, to say, “Yes, imagine that!” And just then she felt a strange gravitational pull. She knew instantly that she was going back, back again. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay. Stay and find her father. Dad!

Chapter 32

Dragon Slaying and Other Sports

“Oh my goodness, Rose. Aren’t you up early!”

“Hi, Shirley. Uh . . . I came down to bring the damask rose into the sunroom here.” She’d just set it in the trough and was now looking at the text message from Myles:

Joe broke ankle. Out of competition. Skates messed with. Time to slay a dragon or two or three.

That was the last thing she remembered before she had been whisked away to Elsyng and had learned that the king lay dying. The time on the cell phone when she had read the message about Joe had been 6:58. Then she remembered the sunlight piercing the grayness of the dawn at 7:01. Now it was 7:03 in the morning. Two minutes, that was all the time she had been gone. But within these two minutes, a king had died. A new one had been crowned and a father almost found.