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

Bretoner bride just the way her father had planted the garden for Maude in Bruch. It was on a less grand scale, true, but all the signs were there that someone, here in the middle of the Westfalian Woods, had tried to make a small corner of Breton.
    “What’s the matter, princess?” Prince Grigori stopped, looking at her with concern. “Are you homesick already? Or tired from walking? Let me take you back to the house to rest.”
    “Oh, no, it’s …” She realized that she could hardly tell him what was the matter. She hesitated. “Well, perhaps I am still a little rattled by the accident with the coach.”
    She looked down at the ground so that he couldn’t detect the lie in her eyes. No one but her sisters could ever understand that the possibility of Rionin and his brothers crawling into her bedroom was far more terrifying than being in a runaway carriage.
    As she stared at the lawn around them, however, avoiding the prince’s piercing eyes, she got another shock. This one nearly made her reel, and as she swayed just a little, Prince Grigori held her even closer.
    “Are you faint? Are you ill?”
    “No. Yes. Please take me inside,” Petunia said, her voice shaking.
    His black brows drawn together in concern, Prince Grigori put one arm around her waist and guided her swiftly back to the manor. He must have thought Petunia was nearlyswooning because she could not seem to raise her head, she was so busy staring at the lawn.
    The winter-dead grass, still lightly dusted with frost despite the weak sunlight, bore the tracks of a half-dozen men. The trail of footprints led directly from the far end of the gardens to the flowerbed beneath her bedroom window. Any doubt in her mind fled, and she knew that Kestilan and his brothers had slipped out of the Kingdom Under Stone and come after her.

Supplicant
    You’re going to be executed; you know that, don’t you?” Having said this, Simon lay back on Oliver’s bed and watched him pack, not appearing all that concerned.
    “Well, I have robbed a great many coaches,” Oliver said philosophically. “I suppose that it’s only fair that I pay the price for that. Since I cannot give back the money now.”
    “And Mother approves of this scheme?”
    “I am the earl, and the head of this household,” Oliver said, all attempt at humor gone.
    Oliver was the earl. It was time that he started acting like one.
    He finished packing. He didn’t own that much: a few changes of clothing, including a suit that had been his father’s and that his mother had tailored to fit him. He would save that for his audience with the king, of course. He had some books and a few other effects, but there was no sense in taking them. Simon could have them if Oliver didn’t return.
    “Karl says you’re doing this for the princess,” Simon said.
    “I’m doing this for a lot of reasons,” Oliver said. “And that’s really all I’ll say about it right now, if you don’t mind.”
    “Fine,” Simon retorted, and he rolled off Oliver’s bed.
    He grabbed his crutches and hobbled out the door in as high a dudgeon as he could manage. Oliver watched without saying a word. He knew that his brother was worried and didn’t know how to express it. Oliver also suspected that Lady Emily had sent Simon to see how firmly Oliver was resolved to going to Bruch.
    The answer was that Oliver had never been so committed to anything in his life. He had sat for an entire day and night in his room, thinking, and could not see any other path to take. It was partly to do with Petunia, it was true, but Petunia was merely the final straw, if anything. He wanted to tell King Gregor about the shadow creatures in the garden that night at the manor because he did not know who else could help her.
    But in wondering how to help Petunia, Oliver had come to the realization that he could not be the one to help her because he could not even help himself. He was trapped. He could not continue thieving to support his