A Posse of Princesses Read Online Free PDF

eyelashes. I thought she looked like a cow,
but the effect on Rastian was like he’d walked into a wall.”
    “Did you get mad at him?”
    “I certainly did. He pointed out that I
haven’t yet met a prince who is quite that comely, and if I did,
and I got silly, too, he’d forgive me, so I forgave him. But still,
it was lowering because she did it on purpose. When he followed her
right out of the room and into the garden, she looked back at me
and gave me such a nasty smirk.”
    “I suppose she’s already met and fascinated
Prince Lios, then?” Rhis asked.
    “She couldn’t have.” Shera poured out more
chocolate for them both. “Didn’t you know? He’s only just returned
from overseas, after years and years. Now that he’s the heir, he
had to come home—and stay home.”
    “I don’t hear anything,” Rhis admitted. “That
is, about people. I can tell you what father thinks of every
ruler’s trade policies, and I can also tell you a lot about what
Mother thinks of the various royal mages in each kingdom, but they
don’t talk about people as people, and Elda, of course, thinks mere
gossip quite improper. A princess, she says—”
    “—Needs only to behave with dignity and
grace, and the worthy suitor will recognize her merit.” Shera
pinched her nose. “Didn’t I hear that one a million times! But in a
court there’s gossip, especially from those who travel, and so I
hear things. Not much about Lios, but then,” she added
triumphantly, “neither has Iardith, since he’s been so long
gone.”
    Nevertheless, Rhis felt the last of her
dreams of attracting the unknown Prince Lios fade away. Who would
possibly prefer a tall, angle-faced beanpole with hair the color of
a wooden plank to such a paragon as Iardith? She shrugged,
resolving not to let it bother her. “Well, as my sister said, quite
rightly, at least there will be dancing, and picnics, and lots of
fun.”
    Shera nodded vigorously. “And lots and lots
of music!”
    oOo
    While the girls chattered far into the night,
ending with playing and singing of their favorite songs, their
entourages made all the preparations for the long journey to the
northwest.
    They set out the next day. Rhis asked Keris
to put the tiranthe into the carriage, and not pack it. Keris
complied without betraying any shock or horror. Once again Rhis
gave silent thanks to her mother for putting her into the care of
this calm, kind-hearted woman.
    The days stretched into a week, and then a
second week, as the girls crossed the length of Vesarja, but they
were happy in each another’s company. Rhis had never met an
eligible young man in Nym’s isolated fastness, so she was
fascinated by Shera’s descriptions of what her Rastian said and
did—and of course Shera loved to talk about him.
    When they weren’t talking they were singing,
or playing the tiranthe. Shera learned rapidly. Rhis found out that
Shera wasn’t really interested in history—or great deeds—only in
great love matches, the more fraught with perils and sufferings,
the better. Those made the best songs, she pointed out. Sometimes,
when their fingers tired of playing and they tired of talking,
Shera hummed absently under her breath as she stared out her
window. She didn’t have a great singing voice—neither did Rhis—but
Rhis discovered she liked listening to these little pieces of
melody.
    Twice heavy spring rainstorms caused them to
halt for a day or two along the road. The last inn had hired
musicians and promised nightly dances, and there were plenty of
travelers also caught by the rain, so Rhis got her first chance to
practice with real partners. The men were mostly older, and none
were princes. Rhis was self-conscious, and spent most of her dances
looking over at Shera and giggling. Shera did the same. At the end
of her last dance, she dared to look up at her partner—a balding
fellow with a pleasant face and a silvery beard. He had begun by
complimenting her on her grace, but he’d gone