Read Online The Thirteenth Princess by Diane Zahler - Free Book Online Page B

long leg and gave a smart rap at the door. I screamed in shock and stumbled backward, fell down the front steps onto the gravel path. As I sat picking gravel out of my palms, feeling extremely foolish, the front door opened and Babette looked out.
    â€œOh, my dear, whatever happened?” she cried worriedly. “Are you all right?”
    I blushed. “I’m fine,” I said. “It was the knocker—it startled me.”
    She frowned at the frog on the door, and it stuck its long tongue out at her. “You should be more careful,” she scolded it. “And more respectful!” Its tongue flicked out again, and I started to laugh.
    â€œIs that an illusion too?” I asked, standing and brushing myself off.
    â€œNo, that’s an enchantment. It’s a real frog, turned into a door knocker. It hopped into my house when it rained the other night, so instead of putting it back out, I just—well, you see.”
    â€œPoor thing,” I said, forgiving it for scaring me.
    Babette gave me a look. “I suppose so,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m sure it would rather be on the bank of a pond somewhere. I’ll let it go.” She murmured some words, and the frog, green now instead of wood brown, dropped to the top step. A little dazed, it took a moment to collect its wits, then hopped quickly down the stairs and off into the grass.
    â€œYou’re welcome!” I called after it, and then followed Babette inside. Today she offered peach tea and lovely little cookies with walnuts, flavored with cardamom and butter and rolled in powdered sugar.
    â€œI make these,” I told her, my voice muffled with sugar.
    â€œDo you, dear? A princess who can cook? That’s not usual.” She bustled around the kitchen as we spoke, arranging things, tidying up. I had begun to notice that she was rarely still. Even when she sat, her fingers were always moving items on the table, playing with her hair, stroking a cat that appeared from another room and wound itself around our ankles. Her constant movements made me more aware of myself when I moved, and I resolved to sit very still when I sat, just to see if I could.
    â€œI’m not a usual princess,” I pointed out. “I live with the maids, downstairs. My father doesn’t speak to me.”
    â€œLiving with the maids can be very useful for a princess, I would think,” Babette said.
    â€œWhy is that?”
    â€œWell, don’t you agree that a ruler should understand her people? And how better to understand them than to live among them?”
    I hadn’t thought about that. “That’s true,” I acknowledged. “But I’m never going to be a ruler. I have twelve sisters ahead of me in the succession.”
    â€œYou may marry a ruler,” Babette reminded me. “And even if you don’t, your knowledge can help your sister when she rules.”
    â€œI could tell her all about the servants!” I said eagerly. “I already do tell them a lot, but not the importantthings. How the servants feel about working. How they feel about the king. What they want to do or to be. Would those things be useful to Aurelia?”
    Babette nodded. “They would indeed,” she said. “A ruler who knows what her subjects want—and cares about it—would be a good ruler, in my opinion. Or a better one, at any rate.” Then she changed the subject. “And where, my dear, is your friend Breckin?”
    â€œHe’s supposed to meet me here,” I said. “Perhaps he couldn’t get away.” I was sorry to miss Breckin, but it was nice to have Babette to myself. There were questions I wanted answered that I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask in front of Breckin.
    I took another cookie and chewed thoughtfully. Then I said, “When we were here before, you said we should come to you ‘if anything strange or frightening should happen.’ What did you mean