Princess in a Strange New Land by Linda Skye Page A

prepared for us.”
    “No, daughter,” her father replied with a stern shake of his head. “That is not the reason we are here. Go now, try these strange delights and learn what you can. You will be our voice and our ears in this land.”
    Akna pursed her lips. It was her duty to obey, but she was less than pleased about being paraded before the gentry. The white people who had visited their lands had been interesting, yet unable to understand the ways of the earth, people who knew nothing of the land nor of how to glean the essentials from the gifts of Mother Nature. Not only that, but she had heard horror stories whispered at night of white warriors crushing the people of the South, burning Algonquin villages and chasing out the Iroquois. These invaders might have riches and wealth, but she could not fathom what lessons her father thought she could learn from them. But he had always been a wise chief. So Akna would obey.
    Her moccasins were silent on the polished hardwood, so when she glided up to a gaggle of ladies fanning themselves, they jumped. She arched an eyebrow. The ladies tittered, recovering. One woman closed her fan with a snap and pointed it at her feet.
    “What are those things on your feet? They look like men’s shoes.”
    Akna met her vicious grin with a sage smile.
    “These are called moccasins.” She paused and glanced down at the woman’s heeled shoes, in which her pudgy feet were pinched. “They are comfortable and terribly practical compared to yours, I should think.”
    The woman’s glare was as feral as a leopard seal’s.
Ah, yes
. Akna smirked to herself, preparing for a battle of wits.
Civilised society, indeed
.
    Outside, two men rushed to the great hall. One of the men, Sir John Frederick, strode effortlessly through the ornate corridors, his face a mask of calm. The other man, Albert Waite, fussed like an old woman as he skipped to keep up with John’s brisk gait.
    “The king will not be pleased that we were late for the presentation,” Albert worried aloud, clenching and unclenching his fists nervously.
    Sir John barked a short, humourless laugh.
    “The presentation of a handful of savages from the colonies? Don’t be daft.”
    “Daft? This is a hand-picked delegation from the Inuit peoples of Labrador!”
    “Delegation?” John snorted. “I’m sure it’s not as important as you think it is.”
    His face darkened. Sir John Frederick was not only a nobleman, he was also a captain in the Royal Navy. He’d seen nothing but brutality and bloodshed over the past few years during the Iroquois-Algonquin wars…on all sides. Europeans and natives were alike in war. And despite his grudging respect for the noble warrior – on both sides, he had nothing but disdain for the way they traded for alcohol. He’d seen villages decimated by its terrible influence. Trading had become nasty, and men of all heritage became beasts. In only a few years, he’d grown tired of the New World. So when he had been invited to the king’s country estate, he had gladly accepted, revelling in the beauty of the English countryside.
    “Oh, why did I let you talk me into that afternoon ride?” Albert moaned. “Now we are late!”
    “You shame yourself, old friend,” John said dryly as he marched on. “This is a silly court event like all the others, and no one will have missed us.”
    So saying, he pushed open the great wooden doors.
    “Fourth Baronet and Captain of the Royal Navy, Sir John Frederick,” a stuffy herald announced as they stumbled into the hall. “And Sir Albert Waite.”
    As expected, no one really turned to look at them—except for a few of John’s female admirers. After all, John was a well-known bachelor—and a prime specimen of English nobility. With thick, sandy-brown hair that fell over warm, honey-brown eyes and his square, masculine jaw, Sir John Frederick never wanted for attention. As a tall, broad-shouldered man, he confidently towered over most of the other