Free Princess of the Silver Woods (Twelve Dancing Princesses) by Jessica Day George

toast. The grand duchess did not care for coffee but preferred the strong, dark Russakan tea, which Petunia also loved, so she poured herself a cup.
    She had had a roll and was spreading marmalade on toast when Prince Grigori and his grandmother entered the room. Petunia dropped her toast and leaped to her feet to curtsy to the old lady, who looked her over with an approving eye.
    “That gown suits you. You should keep it.” The grandduchess sank down into the chair that Prince Grigori held for her.
    “Thank you, ma’am, I would love to,” Petunia said with gratitude. She sat at her own place, self-conscious about the crumbs on the white tablecloth that made it look as though she had eaten at least a half-dozen rolls instead of just one. “If Princess Nastasya doesn’t mind, that is.”
    “She will never notice.” Prince Grigori laughed. “My cousin has more clothes than any three young ladies put together!”
    He filled a plate for his grandmother and himself and sat down opposite Petunia. He smiled at her and gave a subtle wink. To her embarrassment, Petunia felt the color rising in her cheeks. She took a sip of tea, which was too hot and nearly choked her, and managed to recover without gasping or spitting the dark liquid onto the table.
    “We cannot have you languishing here in that beautiful gown,” the grand duchess declared, fortunately not noticing Petunia’s moment of distress. She gave Prince Grigori a meaningful look, and Petunia thought he dipped his chin in a subtle nod. “After breakfast, Grigori must take you around the gardens. It is winter, but your work in your father’s gardens is well known, and I’m sure mine will hold some small interest for you.”
    Did everyone here want her to catch her death of cold? Petunia wondered.
    “That sounds lovely,” she said.
    “My Grigori, I know you feel you must go about yourduties, but please be a gallant and keep dear Petunia entertained during her visit.” The grand duchess’s voice sounded very
studied
, as though she were trying to sound spontaneous but had rehearsed her words in advance. “I charge you with keeping her from boredom, Grigori. It is your new calling in life.”
    “It would be my pleasure,” Prince Grigori said. He didn’t sound quite as rehearsed, but he was obviously not at all surprised by the request. “However, the small matter of my duty to the king will still remain,” he added, making a face.
    Petunia tried her best not to feel snubbed or to read too much into the strange playacting of both grandmother and grandson. She picked up her toast and continued to spread marmalade on it as calmly as she could.
    “What duty to the king?”
    “I have promised your royal father that I would hunt down these two-legged wolves,” Prince Grigori said. “And as yet I have had no luck.” He shook his head in self-deprecation.
    Petunia felt a little sick. Had her father really ordered Grigori to hunt Oliver and his people, as though they were deer or foxes or … actual wolves? And if Grigori caught them, what then? Was he supposed to bring them to Bruch, or had her father given Grigori the authority to mete out punishment on the spot?
    “How long have you been hunting them?” she finally asked.
    “Since King Philippe of Analousia’s brother was accosted in the autumn,” Prince Grigori replied. “They took everything: gold, jewels, even his wife’s fur cloak. The only thingsof value they left the poor lady were her wedding ring and a mourning brooch containing a lock of hair. Things of sentimental value, of no worth to the bandits.”
    “How kind,” Petunia murmured.
    Prince Grigori snorted his agreement, thinking that she was being facetious.
    “Your men may continue the hunt,” the grand duchess said. “But I would like Petunia to not sit here all day, bored as a brick, dancing attendance on an old lady like me.”
    “I don’t mind,” Petunia protested.
    “Don’t be silly,” the grand duchess said, not taking