Read Online The Princess in the Opal Mask by Jenny Lundquist - Free Book Online

street cor-ner, and I stop short when I see them. They appear to be Maskrens. I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one before.
    Vendors call out to passersby, begging them to buy their wares. A plump man carrying a stack of colorful fans jumps in front of me. He holds up one made of peacock feathers and white lace and shouts, “Official birthday ball fans! Cover your eyes and protect yourself from the curse of the Masked Princess! Only five worthings!”
    Everyone, it seems, is trying to capitalize on the prin-cess’s birthday. One vendor parades a cart of costume masks up the street, calling out that it would honor the Masked Princess if women wore them. Another sells hair ribbons in shades of milky lavender or iridescent powder blue, calling out “Get your hair ribbons in the official colors of the House of Andewyn!”
    All around me noblewomen are feverishly snatching up the trinkets. And I can’t help but wonder if any of them know how many families in Tulan will go hungry tonight.
    Mister Blackwell arranged for us to stay at a place called the Fountain Inn, named for its proximity to the King’s Fountain, where water sprays out of the mouth of a stone statue of King Fennrick.
    By the time I catch up to the carriage, Mistress Ogden has already checked in at the inn.
    “Elara, get the trunks,” she commands. “Our rooms are on the second floor. Mister Blackwell only reserved three, so you’ll have to sleep on the floor in Serena’s room.”
    “I’ll get the trunks,” Cordon says, hopping down from the carriage. “They’re heavy and then Elara can—”
    “Nonsense,” says Mistress Ogden, “Go inside and rest up with Harold. Elara’s strong as an ox, and not much prettier.”
    “Better strong as an ox than dumb as a donkey,” I retort, reaching into the carriage and yanking out my satchel. “Go on in,” I say to Cordon, shooing his hands away, “I don’t need your help.”
    “You never need my help,” he answers. With a sigh he leaves, and a seething Mistress Ogden follows behind.

    M y opportunity to go to the prison comes a day later, when over a dinner of rabbit stew and cheese, Serena complains that she wants a decorative fan for the birthday ball.
    “The entire city is already sold out of them,” she pouts. “We should have bought one when we first arrived. I don’t want to be the only girl who doesn’t have one.”
    “Really? That’s odd,” I say, thinking fast. “I heard a couple of Allegrian women talking today—noblewomen, by the look of them—saying they were sending their servants across town to a shop that still had them.”
    I stare down at my stew. I’m planting a seed, letting them believe their next thoughts will be their own.
    “Elara will go for you in the morning, darling,” Mister Ogden says, drowsy from his third mug of ale. “The king is giving an address tomorrow in Eleanor Square; you won’t want to miss it.”
    I ignore Cordon, who is looking at me suspiciously, and steal a quick glance over at Mistress Ogden. I’ve spent my whole life studying her. If I give any indication that I actually want to get sent on an errand, she’ll see to it that I spend the rest of the trip staring at the walls of the inn.
    “But that shop was on the other side of the city!” I protest. “It will take me all morning to—”
    “You will do exactly as we say and fetch that fan,” Mistress snaps. “Serena asks one small thing, as she is quite within her right to do, and you turn up your nose and sniff, just as you’ve done all your life—” She stops suddenly, realizing that several tables around us have fallen silent.
    I give a grunt of frustration and mumble my assent to Mistress Ogden. Nothing on my face shows the triumph I feel.
    Later, as I’m turning in for the night, Cordon meets me at the foot of the stairs. “What are you planning for tomorrow?” he whispers.
    “What do you mean?”
    “You know exactly what I mean. Now the Ogdens think it was their