Waking in Dreamland Read Online Free PDF Page B

never saw anything wrong with her. She seemed well enough to enjoy most balls and entertainments, and was a firm supporter of the fine arts.
    “My lords and ladies, Her Most Admirable Highness, Princess Leonora.” There was a more musical blare from the trumpets. From between the silk curtains issued a parade of pages and ladies in waiting. A hum of anticipation arose from the crowd as Drea, the princess’s old nurse, came out. She clucked, putting out a hand to offer assistance to her charge, but a soft protest made her withdraw it. Leonora emerged, straight and tall and slender, shaking her head at Drea. Roan caught the quickly hidden expression of rueful but loving amusement in the princess’s eyes. The old woman would never believe that Leonora had grown up. Yet, grown up she had.
    Leonora looked around the crowd anxiously as she settled onto her small, cushioned throne. She propped tiny feet in white satin slippers with curled toes on her pedestal. As her gaze fell on Roan, she smiled and appeared to relax. He felt his breath catch in his chest, and his cheeks grew warm. Roan did love her, and was rewarded in knowing that she loved him, too. Bergold nudged him hard in the ribs.
    “There, and you were worried,” Bergold said, teasingly. He wore an indulgent smile that pushed out his rouged cheeks.
    “Shh!” Roan brushed his elbow away, but he wasn’t really annoyed. The herald stood forward imperiously.
    “Silence for the King!” he bellowed, deflating to half his diameter with each shout. The roar of voices dropped to a sullen mutter, and all attention turned to the throne.
    “My lords and ladies,” King Byron said, his resonant voice filling every corner of the great room, “We have asked you here today for the annual reports. We look forward to hearing from each and every one of you.”
    The voices rose into excited chattering like the parrots over their heads. Byron raised his hands for silence.
    “One at a time,” he said, shaking his head with a smile. “My dear Herald, call our first minister.”
    “Master Kaulb, the Royal Treasurer!”
    Kaulb, a bent old man wearing a neat but worn set of robes, tottered forward. Roan knew him as a most frugal man, a worthy warden of the kingdom’s wealth.
    “Well, Your Majesty,” Kaulb began, unfurling a scroll that he took from his sleeve. It unrolled for yards, bounding out of his hands and into the crowd. “The following is a list of the goods and treasures which have been entrusted to my keeping for the period of the last year. . . .”
    Roan shifted from foot to foot as the treasurer went through his endless list. The old man’s voice drew him into a swaying trance. Only the occasional glances at the princess kept him from falling asleep on his feet. She was also bored, but sitting with a perfectly straight spine. If she could stand it, so could he.
    “And that is all,” Kaulb said, at last. There was thunderous applause from the assembly as he stepped down. King Byron perked up, shifting his turban back on his head where it had slipped slightly over one eye while he nodded.
    “Most complete,” the king said, approvingly. “Next, sir Herald?”
    “Carodil, Minister of Science!” the green-clad man bellowed.
    The Science party was at the far side of the hall from the historians, a cluster of blue-and-white-robed men and women, most of them young. Science had more apprentices than all the other ministries put together. Carodil was a tall, slim woman of middle years. At present, she had a dainty, round face with a milk-white complexion that contrasted with her sharp, dark eyes and dark hair. She offered a shallow bow from where she stood.
    “I defer to the next minister, Your Majesty,” Carodil said, offering a shallow bow. “My report is of some length and some moment. I would not want to make anyone else wait their minor reports for me to finish. Perhaps I should go last.”
    “Some length is some moments,” Bergold whispered to Roan. “What