Handbook for Dragon Slayers Read Online Free PDF Page B

very bad?
    I got to my feet, looking around frantically for Judith. I couldn’t spot her—she must have been fetching something from the kitchen.
    Heart in my throat, I grabbed my crutch and hurried outside alone.
    Cousin Ivo stood in the courtyard, the autumn sunlight turning his pale hair even brighter. He wore his sparse beard combed into five ridiculous points.
    He raked me with a glance. “Hello, Mathilda. Still a cripple, I see.”

chapter 4
    I FLINCHED, THEN IMMEDIATELY HATED MYSELF FOR flinching. That word shouldn’t matter to me. No such words should matter to me.
    But they did.
    â€œIf you traveled all this way to insult me, Ivo, you could have spared yourself the trip.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t come all this way just to insult you,” Ivo said. “I’ve come to take Alder Brook from you.”
    I stared at Ivo, dumbfounded—and then I laughed. I didn’t believe him. Take Alder Brook from me? How could he take Alder Brook from me? My mother would never allow it.
    â€œI thought you were coming to tell me something bad happened to my mother,” I said, still laughing.
    Ivo’s eyes narrowed. “Something bad did happen to your mother,” he said ominously, and there was suddenly a blade in his hand, a mean little dagger. “Her leg is broken.”
    I stopped laughing as I suddenly realized: She wasn’t recuperating at Larkspur. She was imprisoned there. For the first time since I’d heard she was following physician’s orders to stay in bed for two months, the world made sense again.
    â€œCome quietly, and you won’t get hurt too,” Ivo said, grabbing my arm.
    â€œWhat did you do to my mother?” In shock, I let him propel me away from Boar House and down toward the river. I looked all around for help, but everyone was inside eating or serving dinner.
    â€œShe had an accident .” The way he said the word told me it had been no accident.
    I opened my mouth to yell or scream, but before I could even draw my breath all the way, there was a sharpness digging into my ribs. I exhaled in a small squeak.
    â€œI said to come quietly ,” Ivo growled.
    â€œWhere are you taking me?” I asked, trying to move my ribs away from Ivo’s knife.
    â€œI have an ideal prison for you downriver.”
    Imprisonment, then, not murder. “And my mother?”
    â€œShe’s also my prisoner. She’ll remain with my parents at Larkspur until after Christmas Day.”
    â€œWhy Christmas Day?”
    Ivo spoke slowly, as to a simpleton. “When Christmas Day comes and you are not at Alder Brook to receive the rents and hear the reswearing of your vassals’ oaths, I will simply step in and become Prince of Alder Brook in your place.”
    â€œAs simple as that!”
    â€œYou don’t believe me.” Ivo smiled, and jerked my arm a little, so that I stumbled against him. “You know what they call you, don’t you? The Splayfooted Princess. The Pigeon-toed Princess. Mathilda the Gravefoot. And those are just the people laughing at you.”
    I looked at my twice-twisted foot: one twist pointed my toes inward at my other foot, which they call being pigeon-toed, and the second twist turned my foot over so that I walked on the outside edge, which they call being splayfooted.
    I’d heard the names whispered behind my back all my life. I’d often wanted to show the whisperers the horrible ulcers that came from walking too much, and watch them run screaming. But of course, princesses do not do such things.
    â€œGet in the boat,” Ivo said. I shook my head, coming out of my stupor to see that we had reached the riverbank. I cast one last look back at Boar House, but it was shut up tight; everyone was inside, eating and laughing. Upstream, Alder Brook presented an impassive wall to the river. I could see no figures in the distance, no sign of any activity. It was dinnertime there, too.
    I crawled