Storming the Castle Read Online Free PDF

against the back of her chair. “I’m very sensible, in my normal state. But it’s just been so awful since he was born. Not that I mean he is awful,” she added.
    Philippa bent over and took the baby from her. “This child needs you to rest. Your milk will give out if you don’t sleep.”
    “My milk . . . Whenever I feed him, he screams so it breaks my heart. The sound goes through the whole castle. Moments like this, when he’s just sleeping and not crying, are so precious. Besides, I’m afraid that I’ll come back and—”
    “As long as we give him enough water, he will not die,” Philippa said firmly. “He’ll be thin, but he’ll survive. And it will get better.”
    At that very moment, Jonas’s eyes popped open. He looked at her blurrily, and then let out a bellow. Despite herself, Philippa flinched.
    “Is that the first time you’ve heard it?” the princess asked wearily, rising from her chair and holding out her arms.
    “He has a fine voice,” Philippa said. “No, you sit down. You feed him, then I’ll show you how to massage his tummy afterwards, which might help with his pain.”
    Two hours later, Jonas’s tummy was tight as a drum, he’d been given the gentlest of massages, he’d screamed until he was blue and breathless . . . and finally, exhausted, he had fallen asleep.
    Philippa carefully put him down in his cradle, humming the last few bars of the song with which she’d sung him to sleep.
    “Do you still believe he will be all right?” his mother asked, bending over to tuck the blanket just under the baby’s chin.
    “You saw his nappy. It was perfectly normal, with no blood. He’ll be fine. He’s a fighter. It hurts so much, and yet he kept on trying to tell us, so we can make the pain stop. He hasn’t given up.”
    “That’s true,” the princess said, brightening a little despite her fatigue. Then she added, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this worn-out in my life.”
    “You must go to bed,” Philippa said. “Jonas will sleep for a few hours. And if he wakes up, I’ll give him some water. He still needs more water.”
    There was a moment of silence. Then: “What was that you sang to him?” the princess asked.
    “It’s an Italian song,” Philippa said. “Something about sunshine and courting and all that nonsense. Mother made me—” She stopped.
    “You’re no nursemaid,” the princess stated. “You’re a lady. You sing in Italian, your mother prepared you for a debut, and your dress is quite nice—even though I think that shade of green isn’t quite right with your hair, which is beautiful, by the way.”
    “I am a nursemaid,” Philippa said, feeling a pulse of desperation. “My family’s come down in the world, that’s all.”
    “If that’s the case, why are you wearing a pearl pendant?”
    “It was a gift from my mother,” Philippa said firmly. Her voice didn’t wobble because that, at least, was the truth.
    “It must be a very recent family downfall. Because your shoes are lovely and not in the least worn-out. I have some just like them, and they’re made of Italian leather.”
    Philippa looked down at her slippers. It hadn’t occurred to her that she might be betrayed by the condition of her footwear.
    She looked back up to find the princess grinning at her. “You’ve run away, likely from a loathsome marriage. Or no—you’re too young for that. A loathsome suitor. And, of course, you ran away to the castle. I’m sorry to say that the prince is already married to me, because otherwise you could have married him yourself, which would have been rather romantic.”
    “Yes, it would have been,” Philippa said uncertainly. Then she added: “You should take a good rest now, Your Highness.”
    “I suppose I could return to the south tower. I left my husband sleeping.” She bent over the cradle again. “Do you really believe that Jonas will get better? How on earth did you gain all this knowledge about babies? Has your family