Free The Princess in the Opal Mask by Jenny Lundquist Page A

on the stone walls, and I shudder at thinking of all the stone and packed earth above us.
    Lord Murcendor falls back at my side and puts an arm on my shoulder. “Just a few more minutes, and we will reach the courthouse. Remember, the guards will enter first, then the Guardians, then Andrei, and then you and your father.”
    “Why does Wilha get to enter last with Father?” comes my brother’s petulant voice from behind. “I am the future king of Galandria, not her.” I glance backward and see Andrei’s mouth pursed in displeasure.
    My father either does not hear Andrei or chooses to ignore him. He is laughing and jesting with Lord Quinlan while Lord Royce walks quietly behind them. Besides a good feast, my father loves nothing more than a grand entrance and a captive audience.
    “Hush, Master Andrei.” Lord Murcendor drops farther back, drawing even with Andrei. “Your father has an important speech to deliver and Princess Wilha is needed. When you are king of Galandria, you can make your own decisions.”
    Lord Murcendor, who has taken it upon himself to pay Andrei the attention my father does not, is the one person my brother listens to. Andrei quiets down and says, “Sorry, sir.”
    “Don’t apologize,” Lord Murcendor answers. “Royalty should never apologize.” He drops his voice and says something else, and Andrei whispers in return.
    Patric, who has been walking at my other side this whole time, takes the opportunity to whisper, “What does he mean by that, that you are needed in the king’s speech?” He glances around. “Apart from your father, everyone seems unusually grave. We are announcing a peace treaty, after all.”
    I smile faintly. “A treaty with your enemy is not always cause for celebration.”
    Now I wish I had told Patric the terms of the treaty. Because this moment will be the one that punctuates all the others, dividing our time together into the before and the after .
    “Whatever happens,” I whisper to him, “know that these last few months have been the best of my life.”
    “What exactly is that supposed to mean?” he says. But thankfully, Lord Murcendor falls back into step with me,  preventing us from speaking further.
    When our procession reaches a dead end, a guard holds up his torch and inspects the stone wall. My ancestors marked the entrance and exit to each passageway by a small opal inlaid in the wall. The tunnels, and the methods of opening them, are known only to my family, the Guardians, and a select number of the palace guards.
    “Here it is,” he mutters and presses on the opal. The wall slides back, sending a wave of fresh air into the passageway, and my anxiety recedes slightly as I step into a small hallway in the Galandrian Courthouse.
    The guards extinguish their torches and we silently walk up the hallway and to the double doors that open out to Eleanor Square.
    The Clock Tower starts to toll and somewhere outside the royal trumpeters begin to play. When they finish, a guard addresses my father. “Your Majesty, it’s time.”
    The doors open out to Eleanor Square and sunlight falls upon our faces. With one last glance at Patric, I step outside.
     

CHAPTER 12
ELARA
     
     
    M y satchel slams against my hip as I flee, and I hear Cordon running after me, calling my name. I push through the crowd and pass Gunther, the man from the orphanage, who is heading toward the inn.
    “Elara!” he calls out. “I must speak with you.”
    “Not now!” I shout back.
    Behind me, Cordon continues to call after me and I let myself get carried along by the crowd into Eleanor Square. Rose petals fall from the rooftops, and palace guards are stationed along the edge of the square. Trumpets begin to sound and I steal a glance backward. Cordon is scanning the crowd, still looking for me. I elbow my way toward the courthouse, hoping to put as much distance between us as possible. I’ll hide in the crowd while the king gives his speech and slip away afterward.
    With a