Free The Charmingly Clever Cousin by Suzanne Williams

1
Princess Fatima
    P RINCESS F ATIMA SHIFTED IN HER CHAIR AND glanced longingly at her flying carpet leaning against the Royal Nursery wall. She’d give anything to be on her carpet right now, soaring over the countryside.
    A soft cry drew her attention to the sleeping baby in her lap. Fatima studied her nephew’s bald head. It looked like a squashed pumpkin and was much too big for his body.Drool wet his chin. When he was awake, all Prince Hassim did was burp, spit up, and cry. Boring .
    Fatima wondered what her friends—the princesses Lysandra, Elena, and Tansy—were doing right now. Two months had passed since they’d first met. Two l-o-n-g months. Whatever her princess friends were up to had to be a lot more exciting than this.

    Fatima sighed. She didn’t really like babysitting, but she hadn’t wanted to refuse when her sister, Selime, had asked for her help. After all, Fatima didn’t get to see Selime very often. Even by flying carpet, it took two whole days to reach the palace where her sister and brother-in-law, Prince Ahmed, lived.
    Rising carefully so as not to wake him, Fatima carried Hassim to his Royal Cradle.Laying the sleeping baby down, she tiptoed away. With any luck, maybe he’d nap for a couple of hours. Then she’d be free to do something fun for a change. Perhaps she could even get out of the palace for a while.
    Fatima glanced at her carpet again. Would it be so wrong to take a quick flight into town and spend a few minutes wandering through the bazaar? She hadn’t flown anywhere in the past two weeks. She longed to run her fingers through the colorful silk scarves and sample the honeyed stuffed dates the merchants sold.
    But even as Fatima thought about leaving, a stern voice echoed inside her head. It was Prince Ahmed’s voice, scolding her for nearly dropping baby Hassim when she had run with him down the hall last night. She’donly wanted to be in time to see the acrobats perform in the Grand Hall before dinner!
    Later, when she came to Ahmed and Selime’s room to apologize, she’d overheard him talking with her sister. “Fatima is much too young and irresponsible to take care of Hassim,” he’d declared.
    Hidden behind the door, Fatima had imagined the frown on his less-than-handsome face, with eyebrows that were too bushy and a nose that was somewhat pointed. Prince Ahmed was no Prince Charming—except, of course, to her sister.
    â€œShe’s twelve,” Selime had said. “That’s old enough.”
    â€œFor some girls, perhaps,” Ahmed had replied. “But Fatima is too impulsive. She does things without considering if her actions could be dangerous. Hassim could get hurt!”
    â€œBabies are always getting hurt,” Selime had said calmly. “Why, just the other day, he grabbed at my tiara while I was holding him and scratched his little arm.”
    Fatima felt a rush of gratitude toward her sister for sticking up for her. Honestly! Prince Ahmed was so overprotective. When it came to Hassim, he was fussier than a mother hen with her chicks. Instead of apologizing, Fatima had turned on her heels and gone back to her room.
    Now, a knock on the Royal Nursery door made Fatima jump. She hurried to open it. “Shh,” she said to the kitchen maid standing outside. “Prince Hassim is asleep.”
    The kitchen maid was a skinny girl with rosy cheeks. As she lowered her eyes and curtsied, her long, dark pigtail fell over one shoulder. “Pardon me, Princess. The Royal Chefsent me to ask what you’d like for lunch.”
    A large helping of free time, Fatima almost said. Then an idea popped into her head. “What’s your name?” she asked.
    â€œNar, Your Highness,” the girl replied.
    â€œHow old are you, Nar?”
    â€œFourteen.”
    Fatima nodded. If she , at twelve, was old enough to watch a baby, surely a girl of fourteen was even better. Besides, it would