Free Aunt Dimity and the Lost Prince by Nancy Atherton Page B

nice thing to do,” I said, “and your mother is very good at her job.
     Daisy’s hairstyle frames her face beautifully. Did you and Daisy chat when she came
     to your house?”
    Coral nodded, but said nothing.
    “When I chat with my best friend,” I said, “I like to share secrets. Did you and Daisy
     share secrets?”
    Coral slowly raised her head. She scanned our faces anxiously, then said, “You’re
     foreign. I can tell by the way you talk.”
    “You have a good ear for accents,” I told her. “And you’re right, neither Bree nor
     I are English. I’m from America.”
    “And I’m from New Zealand,” said Bree.
    “Not Russia?” said Coral.
    I blinked and promptly lost my train of thought. Thankfully, Bree kept her cool and
     carried on as if it were perfectly natural for a little girl living in Addington Terrace
     to bring up the subject of Russia shortly after a priceless Russian artifact had been
     found in her best friend’s pocket.
    “No,” said Bree, “we’re not from Russia. Are you interested in Russia?”
    “Yes,” said Coral.
    “It’s an interesting place,” said Bree. “What made you think we were from Russia?”
    “Because you know about the silver sleigh and it’s Mikhail’s and he’s from Russia,
     so I thought you might be, too,” Coral said in a rush. “Honestly, Daisy didn’t take
     the sleigh for herself. She meant to bring it to Mikhail. It’s all he has left.”
    “Who’s Mikhail?” I asked, bewildered.
    “He’s the lost prince,” Coral answered.
    “The lost prince?” I said uncertainly.
    “The lost prince,” Coral repeated, and the repetition seemed to free her tongue because
     she plunged on frantically. “He was driven from his kingdom by a band of wicked men
     who stole his castle and his horses and nearly everything he owned, but a faithful
     servant warned him of the brigands’ swift approach and he had time to pack a few things
     in a bag before he fled. And he crossed the frozen rivers and he crept through frozen
     woods and he sailed over the ocean to a safe place far away, but an evil man betrayed
     him, threw him in a deep, dark dungeon, and took all his precious things and he’s
     still there in the dungeon, without the least hope of escape.” She gulped air, then
     raced on. “Daisy tried to rescue him, but he’s too old to move fast, so she tried
     to fetch the sleigh for him instead.” Coral took a long, shuddering breath and her
     dark eyes filled with tears. “And now it’s all gone wrong. Daisy had to go away too
     soon. Mikhail will never see his silver sleigh again. And the lost prince will never
     be found.”
    The girl was gripping the edge of the cinder block wall so tightly I thought her hands
     would bleed. I didn’t know what to make of her extraordinary recital, but I knew I
     had to calm her down before she injured herself.
    “Did Daisy tell you about Mikhail and the silver sleigh?” I asked.
    Coral nodded forlornly. “She told me over and over until I had it by heart. It was
     our biggest secret. But I don’t know what to do, now she’s gone.”
    “Do you know where she went?” Bree asked.
    Coral shook her head and a trickle of tears spattered the wall.
    “Don’t worry, Coral,” I said. “You don’t have to do a thing. Bree and I will take
     the sleigh to Mikhail.”
    “We will?” said Bree, looking startled.
    “Yes, we will,” I muttered, stepping on her foot.
    “Right,” she said, wincing. “Leave it to us, Coral. Lori and I will make sure the
     sleigh gets to the prince.”
    Coral peered at us questioningly.
    “Did Daisy give the sleigh to you?” she asked.
    “I met Daisy at Skeaping Manor on Saturday,” I told her, “and I found the sleigh in
     her pink parka yesterday. I work at Aunt Dimity’s Attic—the charity shop on the square.
     Daisy’s mother left the parka there without checking the pockets first.”
    “Oh,” said Coral. It was the drawn-out “oh” of comprehension dawning.
    I