The Decoy Princess Read Online Free PDF Page B

their heads. I eyed them, thinking the gaudy things would blow off in the first breeze from the bay. The men were undoubtedly part of Garrett’s personal guard. One looked too young, I the other too old.
    I shook my head at my father’s sentries to tell them not to announce me. One smiled and opened the door, taking care to shut it softly behind me. The sun was glaring, and I squinted about the empty-seeming indoor garden. I heard my mother’s laugh and placed them at the unseen table by the orchid pond. The space was draped in vines to make a private nook. I had often used it for a classroom, and there was an ongoing game of thieves and kings between my father and me on the fishpond’s retaining wall.
    Following the voices, I crept down the tiled path between potted ferns and lavish vines from the south border islands. The heat of the day was thick, caught between the stone walls and the high glass ceiling. I wished I had worn something lighter. My pulse quickened as I heard what had to be Garrett’s voice. He spoke with great precision, hitting every syllable with a clarity that hinted at a clever mind and swift wit.
    I eased around a large potted tree, well-hidden behind the captain of my father’s guard and another, unfamiliar man in black and green. My father looked up across the distance when the sentries shifted to recognize and dismiss me. Brow furrowed, he started to rise but then turned the motion to that of resettling himself. “Leave now,” he mouthed at me, distracting my mother and the young man standing beside her by shuffling the papers on the table.
    I scrunched my face up in rebellion. I’d leave, but how fast I obeyed remained up for interpretation.
    Hunched with my skirts held tight to me, I studied Prince Garrett.
    As promised, he was handsome, making a trim figure beside my squat, dare I say rotund, father.
    Garrett stood a shade taller than I, I guessed. His hair was straight and fair, cut short about his head. My brow rose in appreciation at his clean-shaven features. I liked a tidy man. Freckles scattered across his narrow nose made him look young.
    He reached for a map, the black fabric of his uniform pulling tightly across his shoulders. I felt warm just looking at him. His attire wasn’t flashy, using the cut of the cloth to hint at his wealth instead of distracting medals and jewels. He smiled at something my mother said, and I noticed his teeth were straight and even. My eyes ran down the snugness of his trousers as he turned his back to get a paper resting upon the pond wall, and my lips curved in a sly smile. Heather was right.
    I rubbed my finger where the gypsy had pricked it as his pleasant voice joined my mother’s in an easy laugh. It rankled me to be hidden away like a bauble to be brought out for theatrical effect. If I had half the fortitude of my father, I’d force an introduction now. But what I did was sigh and turn to leave.
    Protocol and diplomacy. They ruled me. Coward .
    My foot scraped the slate tiles, and I froze.
    “Tess,” my father said as I spun and my mother met my horrified eyes. “What are you doing here?”
    He stood with a quickness I’d never seen in him before, dismay in his stance.
    Garrett smiled as he straightened to his full height. Our eyes met, and my stomach twisted. I was knee-deep in the chu pits now. Trying to force my face into a pleasant expression, I squared my shoulders and came out from behind the sentries.
    “Oh, Tess,” my mother said, touching the yards of ribbon binding her yellow hair in its elaborate coiffure. “Why didn’t you wait?” She and my father exchanged unreadable looks, seeming to be at a loss what to do.
    Shaking inside, I curtsied low. “Good afternoon, Father, Mother,” I said with a formal stiffness. “I do apologize. I was unaware you were here.” It was an outright, bald-faced lie, and I approached slowly, praying I wouldn’t trip on a slate tile and fall flat on my fundament. That would be about right