Free Palace of Stone by Shannon Hale Page A

calluses on her palm. It had never occurred to her that a callus was a thing to be proud of. Her heart bumped like a fly against a windowpane.
    The wind blew her hair back and billowed her blue robes. Salt spray touched her lips; sunlight lay on her cheeks. The heaving rhythm of the deck began to feel familiar to her legs, and she considered Timon, as once she had only considered Peder.
    Don’t take the ocean lightly , she thought.
    Timon was still touching her palm.
    “Just calluses,” she said, hoping he could not feel her rapid heartbeat in her hand. “I take care of our five goats, you see, and they pull on their ropes ….”
    He smiled. “I’d like to see the king manage five goats at once.”
    The image made Miri laugh. “Or even milk one nanny.”
    “It’s a skill, as noble as any.”
    “I wouldn’t say noble exactly, but since you said it first, I won’t argue.”
    “Aha! There you go being noble again!”
    She smiled demurely. “You should see me in a feathered cap.”
    “Indeed, you come from a noble place, Miri—noble in the truest sense. I wish I could see your mountain.”
    “It’s the most beautiful place on earth,” she said simply.
    He nodded. He was rubbing warmth into her cold fingers. Should she pull her hand away? Should she stop blushing? Yes , she decided, she should definitely stop blushing.
    “Have you chosen a topic for your Rhetoric paper? Why not write about the academy and the princess? Perhaps recording the events will allow you to see them in a new way.”
    “Maybe I will, Timon Skarpson.”
    He let go of her hand. “What?”
    “I heard the captain call you that. Skarp is your mother’s name? Who are your parents?”
    “Merchants,” Timon said shortly.
    “Merchants of what?” she asked. His reluctance made her even more curious.
    “We buy goods and ship them between provinces and countries.” He hesitated. “This is one of my parents’ ships.”
    Miri looked around. All that wood and rope and sail-cloth must cost a fortune. “One of? How many ships do they own?”
    Timon pressed his lips together. “Twenty-two.”
    Miri allowed her mouth to hang open and then pressed her chin up with her hand to close it. Timon smiled as if against his will.
    “I was afraid of what you’d think of me if you knew I was—”
    “Ridiculously wealthy?” she said. “Swimming in gold coins?”
    He shrugged. “We pay tribute to the noble who owns the land we live on, the same as all commoners. Still, the wealth of the sea has been good to my family. My father is determined to make so much money the king will be forced to offer him a noble title. He thinks I’m a fool to fight for change.”
    “He’s wrong,” Miri said, feeling certain of the words.
    Timon’s smile seemed grateful. “Last year I tried to sell one of his ships and use the money to help families whose tenement was destroyed in a fire. He sent me back to the Queen’s Castle because he didn’t know what else to do with me. If I don’t turn into a reformed, obedient boy, he’ll ship me off to the far-flung territories to see how much I like the poor once I become one.” He laughed. “But I don’t care, Miri. Some things are more important than one person. Lady Sisela showed me that. I don’t want to live a comfortable, small life. I want to change the world.”
    They were returning, sails down. A group of people had amassed on the dock, and even from the ship’s deck, Miri could hear angry voices.
    As soon as the gangplank hit the deck, Timon said, “Come on.” He grabbed Miri’s hand and pulled her along.
    Merchants mobbed together, grumbling. An official in green clothes was affixing pieces of paper to large earthenware jugs. One paper blew free and stuck to Miri’s boot. She picked it up. It read: Claimed in tribute for the king.
    “Now he’s taking cooking oil,” Timon said, shaking his head.
    “The attempt on his life spooked the old boy, that’s what I think,” said a nearby merchant,