Read Online Palace of Lies by Margaret Peterson Haddix - Free Book Online Page B

would touch it too? I thought in disgust. Though I didn’t know why this should bother me: He’d already touched my blood in order to plant the appearance of fake footprints.
    I accidentally let myself breathe out and in again. This brought in such a reek of rot and unthinkable bodily functions that it was all I could do to hold back a gagging noise. I forced myself to concentrate on Madame Bisset’s response.
    â€œAh yes, I see. . . . Guards! Come quick! Follow this trail!” Madame Bisset called out. I could guess that the woman was backing away from the offered chance to touch blood. Then her voice went even louder, as if she’d turned back to face the two boys directly. “And begone with you, beggars! Don’t let me see you in this part of the city ever again!”
    â€œNo, mistress. Of course not, mistress. We’ll be out of your sight directly, mistress,” the two boys said, their words running over top of one another.
    I felt the rug around me spinning in the other direction. The boys seemed to be settling it back on their shoulders; they seemed to be walking out the rear of the alley at a brisk pace.
    I went back to holding my breath. When it came time that I either had to take another breath or faint, I judged that we’d moved far enough away from Madame Bisset and her “prison house.”
    â€œLet me out!” I whispered to the section of the rug that I guessed might be closest to the older boy’s ear.
    â€œIt isn’t safe yet!” the boy hissed back. “There are soldiers and guards everywhere! And we don’t know who they’re loyal to . . .”
    â€œI’m going to faint!” I complained.
    â€œThen faint if you have to!” the boy whispered. It came out more like, “ain i’ oo have oo,” so I guessed that he was trying to speak without moving his lips. “We’ll wake you up when we get where we’re going.”
    I was about to ask, And where’s that? when the boy hissed, “And stop talking! You aren’t safe yet at all!”
    Was this true?
    I had no way of knowing. I’d been trying to keep track of the path the boys seemed to be following— right turn, left turn, right turn, right —but I’d never seen anything of the capital city, Cortona, beyond the palace courtyard, so I wasn’t sure if it was likely that there were guards and soldiers about or not. I drew in a measured breath. I could at least try to stay alert, even if I couldn’t be sure if it was wisdom or foolishness to trust the two ragged boys.
    â€œFresh fish!” someone cried nearby. “Get your fresh fish here!”
    So are we close to the river? I wondered. Do the fishmongers sell the fish straight out of the water?
    The voice calling out about the fish blended into another one bragging, “Freshest apples in the market!”
    So are we just walking through some large, open market where all sorts of goods are on sale? I wondered. Could I slide right out of this rug and blend into the crowd?
    I had very little idea of what the common people of Cortona looked like—I’d only ever seen them from behind a veil, from high over their heads. But I suspected that it’d be hard to blend in wearing nothing but a nightgown.
    And a nightgown fit for a princess, at that , I reminded myself. I’d marked the difference between the two boys’ patched, tattered clothing and the snowy-white perfection of my own garb.
    So I’m stuck in this filthy rug until the boys decide it’s safe for me to come out?
    The horrific odor of the rug seemed worse than ever. The bristly surface pressed painfully against my body; the places where I suspected I had cuts and bruises hurt worse with every bit of jostling. And I had no idea where we were going. Even if I asked, I had no guarantee that the boys would tell the truth. I’d just heard how skillfully they’d lied to