Free The Barefoot Princess by Christina Dodd

didn’t keep quiet…
    Footsteps in the corridor.
    The light, sharp sound of high heels accompanied by the tap of a cane.
    Firm, heavy footsteps, several sets.
    “That child is incorrigible.” Grandmamma’s voice. The Dowager Queen Claudia. Coming closer. Entering the room.
    It was dark in here. It smelled of cedar. And Amy’s heart beat so hard, she feared Grandmamma could hear the pounding.
    With her long, skinny nose and uncanny accuracy, Grandmamma sniffed out Amy’s larks. Would she somehow know Amy was there?
    “Do you know what your youngest daughter has done now?” Grandmamma snapped.
    “Has she once again slid down the grand banister and landed on our master of the horse?” Amy’s father, King Raimund, sounded patient.
    “No, sire.” Sir Alerio whispered like a man who constantly worked with edgy beasts and took care never to startle them. “Princess Amy hasn’t knocked me over for a fortnight.”
    Moving with great care among the velvet and silk and fur, Amy put her eye to the knothole in the wood. A cold rain streaked the windows. Footmen moved silently from one candle to another, lighting each one in a vain attempt to alleviate the dim grayness. The usual group of courtiers surrounded her father. Lord Octavio, the lord chamberlain. SirAlerio, the master of the horse. Lord Carsten, the castle steward. Lord Silas, the prime minister.
    Except for Sir Alerio, Amy didn’t like the courtiers. Sorcha said they were important, but Amy thought they were staid old men with droopy chins and droopy noses and no equanimity when faced with three active young princesses.
    “I’m glad to hear that, Alerio.” Poppa wasn’t as tall as the other men, and he carried an impressive weight around his middle. His luxuriant mustache and sideburns gave his round face a jolly expression, and his purple cape provided a grand sense of royalty.
    Amy loved her poppa. She loved him more than anyone else in the world, and right now, she wanted his arms around her. If only the others would go away. If only she could put her head against his shoulder and have him make her world right.
    “So, Queen Claudia.” Poppa removed his crown and placed it on the purple cushion Lord Carsten offered. The footman in charge of the crown whisked it away to the safe place, accompanied by two other footmen and Lord Carsten. “Has Amy again climbed the tree along the drive and dropped into the duchess’s carriage?”
    Faint chuckles erupted from the courtiers.
    Grandmamma turned on them and frowned, and the chuckles became faint, apologetic coughs.
    No one could confront Grandmamma’s wrath with composure. She was gaunt and tall, with fierce blue eyes that pierced right through to Amy’s sinful soul.
    “When Amy dropped into that carriage, she made the duchess faint!” Grandmamma said.
    The gentlemen of the antechamber clucked like a bunch of peevish old hens.
    “But she did land exactly in the seat opposite the duchess, and you must admit that is no small feat,” the king reminded her.
    Besides, the duchess faints all the time. Amy sat back on her heels in the stuffy wardrobe and nodded fiercely in the dark. That’s why the duchess was so much fun to tease. The fainting, and the fact she was a widow who had designs on Poppa’s hand in marriage. If she kept visiting the palace on flimsy pretexts, Amy would land right on her next time.
    “The duchess has such a delicate constitution, one is forced to wonder if she is entirely truthful about her reaction,” Poppa said gently.
    Amy barely caught back her shouted agreement.
    “That is hardly the point,” Grandmamma said.
    Amy stuck out her lower lip.
    “What did Amy do this time?” Poppa asked.
    Amy was surprised to hear a note of weariness in her father’s voice, almost as if he couldn’t bear another crisis.
    Was he tired of dealing with his troublesome daughter? With her?
    “She blackened Prince Rainger’s eye!”
    The silence that followed was so full of portent, Amy leaned