Free The Runaway Princess by Kate Coombs Page B

me?”
    â€œGo on,” King Stromgard told him. “And send me my minstrel on your way out. I could use some cheering up.”
    The prime minister practically ran to the door, but he couldn’t avoid the king’s last words. “Results, Garald!”
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    Nort paced the tower room, careful to stay well away from the window. If Arbel caught sight of him! Nort sighed, staring around the room. No wonder the princess wanted out. He sat down gingerly at the table. The books were all about royal girl stuff. Maybe the wedding one would be good for a laugh. Nort flipped through it. Gowns and geegaws and—he found a wedding where the bride was kidnapped by a rival monarch. The wedding turned into a great bloody war. Nort forgot where he was, turning pages as the candle burned low.
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    â€œWe can’t take that creature to the castle,” Cam argued. They had stopped well away from the cave, perching on a heap of rocks beside a dark stand of pines.
    â€œWe have to tell my father about Vantor!” Meg cried. “The dragon’s our proof!”
    â€œI thought you wanted to save it.”
    Meg crossed her arms over her knees. The dragon leaned against her, thrumming like an oversize cat. “Of course!”

    â€œWhat do you think your father would do to it?” Cam asked reasonably.
    â€œOh.”
    â€œWhat’s more—” Cam started. He stopped himself.
    â€œWhat? What’s more what?” she demanded.
    Cam sighed. “He’s not going to believe anything you say right now. You’re not one of his wonderful princes, and you’re not in that tower where you’re supposed to be.”
    â€œHe’ll say I’m just trying to ruin things, won’t he?” Meg said glumly.
    Cam was silhouetted against the starry sky, but she could see his nod. “Probably.”
    Meg gasped.
    â€œWhat?” Cam asked, alarmed.
    â€œI’m supposed to be in the tower right now!” Not that she wanted to go back, of course, but Nort would be waiting for her.
    â€œWell, either everybody knows…”
    â€œOr Nort’s thought of something.” They fell silent, pondering this unlikely possibility. Meg put her arm around the dragon.
    â€œDoesn’t that burn?” Cam asked.
    â€œNo. I told him not to. I asked him not to burn anything unless I said so.”
    â€œHe?” Cam repeated. “What makes you think it’s a boy dragon?”
    Meg stroked the dragon’s head. “I just know.” She could feel a sort of something—agreement, maybe, when
she guessed right about the dragon. “It’s like he’s talking to me.”
    â€œUh-huh,” Cam said, unconvinced.
    Meg began considering the dragon’s possibilities. “He’d make a good bed warmer. He could start the fire in the mornings. He could be taught to catch rats.”
    â€œMy sister loves cats,” Cam said in a thoughtful voice.
    â€œThat’s it, then,” Meg said.
    Moving the dragon wasn’t easy. He seemed happy to follow Meg, but he was like a large puppy, bumbling off on side trips every two minutes, so that she had to keep calling him back.
    Cam’s sister lived on the other side of the Witch’s Wood. They followed a goat track leading east. “If this doesn’t turn south, we can make our own way down once we’re past the wood,” Cam explained.
    â€œHow will we know?” It was a clear night, but still dark enough that they stumbled every so often. Finally it occurred to Meg to ask the dragon to light up a bit. This meant they could see the way ahead about half the time, since the creature kept rambling off the trail, sniffing happily.
    â€œI’m hoping we’ll be able to see the lights of the farms in the valley once we’ve gone far enough.”
    â€œAnd if they’ve all gone to bed?”
    â€œThen we keep going till we come to the moors and the bandits steal our