Aurelia Read Online Free PDF

attention. painted wooden wands spilled out of a deep basket. Leather belts and colored kerchiefs hung from hooks. beaded capes, skirts, and cloaks draped over the sides, and masks filled the shelves: five rows of them. Faces of genies and gypsies, mice and magicians, frogs and fishermen.
    Aurelia froze. "The mask on the cart, second row up."
    "Which one?"
    "guess."
    Within moments, daria nodded. "I'll get it. Where am I meeting you?"
    Aurelia motioned toward a quadrant of stone walls at the heart of the marketplace. Leaving her friend behind, she set out for the square. All four guards followed her, their braided uniforms and polished scabbards drawing the usual stares.
    she paused outside a dressmaker's shop but did not go in. even the best dressmaker could not accept an order with less than a day to complete it. As soon as Aurelia had spotted her chosen mask, she had mentally selected a dress from the stock of unworn ball gowns and party wear cluttering up her wardrobe. At least some use would come out of the seamstresses' zealous attempts to help her attract a husband.
    Her mind still focused on her costume, she stepped into an arched tunnel leading toward the center of the square. The guards suddenly pushed ahead, blocking her path. Caught by surprise, she stared past them at men, women, and children crowding the inner plaza.
    A throng of shaking fists, shuffling feet, and shoving elbows filled the space. eyes flashed. Lips flared. shouts tumbled over one another like viscious dogs. The crowd's anger grew tangible, swelling and feeding itself, all directed toward the square's centerpiece--a statue of her father.
    The guards pulled back as if to leave, but Aurelia refused to withdraw, her eyes glued to the statue's face. Her father gazed back at her, not with the weary look she recognized, but with the pride she imagined he must have worn in her early childhood--before her brother had died and her mother had left. she could not allow that statue to be destroyed.
    A barrage of rocks and sticks flew through the air, slamming into the statue. bodies moved as if to topple it. "Wait!" Aurelia forced her way through the guards. "Talk to me. Tell me why you do this. Tell me what you want."
    A hush engulfed the mob as she stepped out from under the arch. Fists fell, shoulders dropped, and mouths closed. people waited in a ring of suspended tension. she walked through that ring, stepping into the square's center and laying her hand in the enlarged carving of her father's own palm. standing in front of the populace, she could feel the weight of expectations settle on her shoulders--the people's hopes for a better future, their faith in her as a leader, her own dread that she would let them down.
    "you, sir," she said to a man in a torn black vest, "why are you here?"
    He rubbed a hand across the whiskers on his chin as though trying to decide whether to answer, then said, "I'm a vendor, your Highness. I run a stall in the market and make just enough coin for my family. I reckon the same is true for most of these folks." Nods scattered the crowd. "but this mornin' the king announced a new tax on every stall and cart in the marketplace."
    Why had her father not told her? There had been no mention of a new tax at the last council meeting.
    "I wouldn't mind if the money were goin' toward the city or likely to help my family in some way," the vendor said.
    "but it isn't!" a woman shouted.
    The man continued: "your father called it a market tax, but it's to pay for state functions. That means more spectacles like that fancy party held last night in your sister's honor. He's already drained the city coffers fixin' up the palace."
    "And it's not like any of us will ever be invited to that monstrosity!" added the woman.
    "We can't none of us afford to lose our stalls," the vendor said, "but we have a right to say how our money should be spent."
    "I'll speak with my father," Aurelia told the crowd. "perhaps he does not understand how the tax