Whispered Magics Read Online Free PDF

hall.
    Usually she gazed hungrily at the age-darkened tapestries on
the walls, each time garnering some new detail of stitchery, design, color, and
longing for the day to arrive when she’d have her place restoring them. That
is, if the Queen didn’t get her way and use her daughter’s marriage to a
neighboring Prince—or the new war—as an excuse for burning them all.
    On her way to the Queen’s suite, which lay all across the
entire length of the castle front, she sped by the newly-decorated corner wing
where Princess Zarja had moved just before the visit from King Orthan’s son
last winter. Last time Kimet was in this hall the door to the afternoon parlor
had been open and she’d glimpsed the Princess sitting with the other noble
girls on the terrace outside, their drawling voices carrying as they sat
decorously, eating fruit from golden bowls and making fun of the customs of the
other kingdom. The same noble girls who flattered the Princess to her face but
maligned her behind her back, overheard by the pages who were regarded as
furniture. The Princess wore a gown of crimson and gold that day, her skirt
spilling in rich silken folds around her chair. Kimet had longed to feel that
fabric, to smooth it against her cheek, and to examine the embroidery. . .
    The Princess! Kimet ran faster. The pages assigned to her said
that Zarja’s temper was growing more like the Queen’s every day, particularly
since the recent declaration of war against King Orthan, whose son had spent
the entire winter here, dining and dancing and hunting and hawking. Kimet did
not want to be seen by the Princess, for Steward Greb’s beating would have to
be severe indeed. The Queen would watch to make certain of it, and the
Princess’s narrow, sour face would be right at her shoulder.
    Voices echoed down a side hall. Voices and sword clanks and
the ringing ching of chain mail. She skidded to a stop under a massive
sideboard. Cowering there, she clapped her hands over her face. The laughter
and voices resolved into familiar ones: four of the guardsmen from the castle
walls.
    What were they doing inside the Residence? The Queen had
forbidden the guards to enter wearing anything but livery and the other
servants’ silent wool-slippers, their weapons hidden, and decently muffled.
    The voices diminished abruptly, as if the speakers had gone
into a room and shut a door. Kimet climbed out and was about to run when she
heard a muffled, gulping cry. It wasn’t very loud, but it reminded Kimet of the
way the pages sounded after one of Steward Greb’s beatings, and her guts
tightened with pangs of sympathy. She hoped it was no one she knew.
    She sidled to the doorway from which the weeping had come, and
peered in to discover no page, but Princess Zarja herself. Surprised, Kimet was
about to retreat when the Princess, who was staring out the window at something
in the rose garden, sucked in her breath on a shuddering sob, then put her
hands over her face.
    Kimet’s surprise sharpened into amazement, followed by a
brightly burning ember of glee. See how the royal snit liked feeling that way!
    Then loud voices echoed down from the corridor round the
corner: “The Princess is not in her sleeping chambers! Find her. Now!”
    “The Wizard wants a matched set, eh?” someone else said, and
this was followed by harsh laughter.
    The Princess jerked around, and she and Kimet stared into one
another’s eyes for a long, painful heartbeat.
    The Princess’s eyes were red from weeping, and her narrow face
was drawn, not into the usual anger or haughtiness, but terror.
    The same terror to be seen in the faces of the pages when
Steward Greb loomed up, tapping his switch against his palm.
    Kimet didn’t think. She just acted. This room was the smallest
of the reception chambers, with the service door on the opposite wall from the
entry way. Kimet sprang to it and pushed the catch. The door opened silently.
She beckoned to the Princess, who ran inside, stumbling