Princess Academy Read Online Free PDF

formality, with the noble girls of the chosen town gathering for a few days of society before the prince’s ball.
    “Since Mount Eskel is merely a territory, not a province, of Danland, and you cannot boast of any noble families, the chief delegate believes the academy must be taken very seriously this generation. Never before have the priests named a territory the chosen region. I may tell you that the king and his ministers are quite uneasy about marrying the prince to an unpolished girl from an outlying territory. Therefore the king granted me the solemn responsibility to verify that every girl sent to the ball is fit to become the princess. If any of you fail to learn the basic lessons I teach you this year, you will not attend, you will not meet the prince, and you will return to your village disgraced.
    “Now, I understand that there is a true Danlander among us, is that so?” Olana sighed at the silence that followed. “I’m requesting a response. If any of you were not born on this mountain, you have my permission to speak now.”
    Most of the girls had turned to look at Britta sitting in the fifteen-year-olds’ row before she raised her hand.
    “I was born in the city of Lonway, Tutor Olana.”
    Olana smiled. “Yes, you do have a look in you of some breeding. Your name?”
    “Britta.”
    “Is that it? What’s your father name? I would expect the villagers to be ignorant of such a formality, but not one from Lonway.”
    Miri adjusted in her seat. They were not ignorant—a girl took her father’s name and a boy took his mother’s name to help distinguish them from anyone else with the same first name. Mount Eskel shared some Danlandian traditions, it seemed.
    “I’m orphaned this year, Tutor Olana,” said Britta.
    “Well then,” said Olana, looking ill at ease at how to respond. “Well, such things happen. I’ll expect you to lead the class in your studies, of course.”
    The stares pointed at Britta began to turn to glares.
    “Yes, Tutor Olana.” Britta kept her eyes on her hands. Miri suspected that she was gloating.
    Then began the instruction. Olana held up a shallow box filled with smooth yellow clay. With a short stick called a stylus, she marked three lines in the clay.
    “Do any of you know what this is?”
    Miri frowned. She knew it was a letter, that it had something to do with reading, but she did not know what it meant. Her embarrassment was appeased somewhat by the general silence that followed.
    “Britta,” said Olana, “tell the class what this is.”
    Miri waited for her to spout the brilliant answer and revel in her knowledge, but Britta hesitated, then shook her head.
    “Surely you know, Britta, so say so now before I lose patience.”
    “I’m sorry, Tutor Olana, but I don’t know.”
    Olana frowned. “Well. Britta will not be an example to the class after all. I am curious to see who will jump forward to take her place.”
    Katar sat up straighter.
    While Olana explained the basics of reading, Miri’s thoughts kept flitting to Britta. One summer trading day, Miri had overheard Britta read words burned into the lid of a barrel. Was she pretending ignorance now so she could amaze Olana later with how quickly she would seem to learn? Lowlanders are as clever as they are mean , thought Miri.
    Her attention snapped away from Britta when Gerti, the youngest girl, raised her hand and interrupted Olana’s lecture. “I don’t understand.”
    “What was that?” said Olana.
    Gerti swallowed, realizing that she had just broken the rule of speaking out of turn. She looked around the room as if for help.
    “What was that?” Olana repeated, pulling her vowels long.
    “I said, I just, I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry.”
    “What is your name?”
    “Gerti,” she breathed.
    “Stand up, Gerti.”
    Gerti left her chair slowly, as though longing to return to its safety.
    “This little girl is giving me an opportunity to illustrate the consequences of rule breaking. Even the