Princess of Glass by Jessica Day George Page A
Authors: Jessica Day George
Tags: Fiction, General, Juvenile Fiction, Magic, Fantasy & Magic, Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction, Witches, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), Young Adult Fiction, Princes, Fairy Tales & Folklore, Royalty, princesses, Fairy Tales, Adaptations, Children's & young adult fiction & true stories, Fairy Tales & Folklore - Adaptations
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she made it look like part of the dance, and the expression of outrage on her face made it clear she was not attempting to be funny.
"What an odd person this Princess Poppy is," said Lady Ella, tripping up to Christian with Roger Thwaite in tow. "I can assure you, Your Highness, that I love dancing. Shall we?" Once more she held out her hand for Christian to dance with her.
Christian found himself reaching to take her hand without thinking about it. At the last second he remembered his manners and stopped to look inquiringly at Roger.
"I would like to speak with Lady Marianne," Roger said in a stiff voice.
"If I'm not imposing, then," Christian murmured, and took Ella's outstretched hand.
114
Christian did his best, as they danced, to not be distracted by Poppy's situation. Ella was a good dancer, and she seemed more relaxed now. The smell of her perfume made him want to bury his face in her hair, and he concentrated on Poppy to avoid making an idiot of himself over the beauteous Lady Ella.
His partner, for her part, kept shooting the odd glance back at Roger and Marianne, who were deep in conversation on the opposite side of the room.
Christian wondered if it would be rude to ask her outright where she had gotten her gown, and why she had copied Poppy's, but he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. So he laughed heartily at the mysterious Lady Ella's forced jokes, and led her through the measures of the dance.
115
***
Dance
Poppy could not believe that she was dancing for the first time in three years, and it was with this ... this ...
No epithet was strong enough to describe this horrible drunken clod, in her opinion. Adding insult to injury was the fact that he was such a terrible dancer.
She contemplated faking a faint, or a sprained ankle, but didn't want her boorish partner to turn heroic and try to carry her off somewhere. Hearing the titters of the other dancers who noticed her trying to slip away, she forced herself to relax. It was just one dance, and then she would hurry to the gardens before anyone else could try and pull her back onto the dance floor.
A flash of scarlet and white made her turn her head, and she saw Christian dancing by with Ellen. She forgot about her partner--the dance was an Analousian pavane, something she had been able to do in her sleep since the age of eight--and turned her mind back to the Ellen situation.
116
She didn't for a moment think that Ellen had found some wealthy Society patron. No, she had gotten herself caught up in some sort of an enchantment, which Poppy considered far worse. No wonder Marianne couldn't recognize her own maid: just trying to look at Ellen had made Poppy's eyes blur, and she was wearing protective talismans. It wasn't until she had said a rhyme that Galen had taught her that she had been able to see Ellen clearly.
Now Ellen's soot-covered ramblings through Seadown House were explained, but not entirely. Who or what was helping Ellen? Nothing human could have made a gown that elaborate in less than two days, and no one but the dressmaker and his assistants had seen Poppy's gown before it was delivered.
And that was when Poppy began to worry. The jewels that Ellen wore gleamed in a way that was almost taunting, and so did her gown. Ellen dipped and spun as the princess watched her, and Poppy caught a glimpse of her dancing slippers.
They looked to be made out red glass, but Poppy clearly saw them bend with Ellen's foot. The sight of them seared her eyes, and she almost had to veil her gaze with her shawl to clear her vision.
"Quite stolen your thunder, hasn't she?" Poppy's partner practically shouted in her ear. "You're pretty enough, no need to scratch her eyes out!"
"Excuse me?" Poppy gave him a cold look.
"Have to ask her for a dance myself," her partner went on, oblivious. "Quite the looker, quite the looker."
Poppy stared at him in disbelief. This really went beyond
117
boorish, she thought. Good manners dictated that a man not
"What an odd person this Princess Poppy is," said Lady Ella, tripping up to Christian with Roger Thwaite in tow. "I can assure you, Your Highness, that I love dancing. Shall we?" Once more she held out her hand for Christian to dance with her.
Christian found himself reaching to take her hand without thinking about it. At the last second he remembered his manners and stopped to look inquiringly at Roger.
"I would like to speak with Lady Marianne," Roger said in a stiff voice.
"If I'm not imposing, then," Christian murmured, and took Ella's outstretched hand.
114
Christian did his best, as they danced, to not be distracted by Poppy's situation. Ella was a good dancer, and she seemed more relaxed now. The smell of her perfume made him want to bury his face in her hair, and he concentrated on Poppy to avoid making an idiot of himself over the beauteous Lady Ella.
His partner, for her part, kept shooting the odd glance back at Roger and Marianne, who were deep in conversation on the opposite side of the room.
Christian wondered if it would be rude to ask her outright where she had gotten her gown, and why she had copied Poppy's, but he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. So he laughed heartily at the mysterious Lady Ella's forced jokes, and led her through the measures of the dance.
115
***
Dance
Poppy could not believe that she was dancing for the first time in three years, and it was with this ... this ...
No epithet was strong enough to describe this horrible drunken clod, in her opinion. Adding insult to injury was the fact that he was such a terrible dancer.
She contemplated faking a faint, or a sprained ankle, but didn't want her boorish partner to turn heroic and try to carry her off somewhere. Hearing the titters of the other dancers who noticed her trying to slip away, she forced herself to relax. It was just one dance, and then she would hurry to the gardens before anyone else could try and pull her back onto the dance floor.
A flash of scarlet and white made her turn her head, and she saw Christian dancing by with Ellen. She forgot about her partner--the dance was an Analousian pavane, something she had been able to do in her sleep since the age of eight--and turned her mind back to the Ellen situation.
116
She didn't for a moment think that Ellen had found some wealthy Society patron. No, she had gotten herself caught up in some sort of an enchantment, which Poppy considered far worse. No wonder Marianne couldn't recognize her own maid: just trying to look at Ellen had made Poppy's eyes blur, and she was wearing protective talismans. It wasn't until she had said a rhyme that Galen had taught her that she had been able to see Ellen clearly.
Now Ellen's soot-covered ramblings through Seadown House were explained, but not entirely. Who or what was helping Ellen? Nothing human could have made a gown that elaborate in less than two days, and no one but the dressmaker and his assistants had seen Poppy's gown before it was delivered.
And that was when Poppy began to worry. The jewels that Ellen wore gleamed in a way that was almost taunting, and so did her gown. Ellen dipped and spun as the princess watched her, and Poppy caught a glimpse of her dancing slippers.
They looked to be made out red glass, but Poppy clearly saw them bend with Ellen's foot. The sight of them seared her eyes, and she almost had to veil her gaze with her shawl to clear her vision.
"Quite stolen your thunder, hasn't she?" Poppy's partner practically shouted in her ear. "You're pretty enough, no need to scratch her eyes out!"
"Excuse me?" Poppy gave him a cold look.
"Have to ask her for a dance myself," her partner went on, oblivious. "Quite the looker, quite the looker."
Poppy stared at him in disbelief. This really went beyond
117
boorish, she thought. Good manners dictated that a man not
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