Black Queen causing everybody so much trouble), she at least wanted to see him not frowning before she made up her mind to marry him. Oh, but the thought of marrying a real live prince had seemed so appealing during the more tedious parts of the long journey… and now that she was alone and perhaps on his very doorstep, her legs felt weak and her heart began to skitter like a frightened animal. The thought of meeting Prince Archalthus again frightened her so much that she didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind her until it was almost too late. Two gentlemen in fancy clothes were strolling along Main Street towards her: the Prince's men. With her cat's eye spell, the scene looked bright as daylight, and it was hard to imagine they couldn't see her. Amelia stood stock still in the shadows, invisible, holding her breath, head bowed and barely daring to look at the two gentlemen. They walked without speaking, precisely in step with one another, apparently patrolling. But they walked right past Amelia, and she slid away into a side street, still shaking from her latest lucky escape.
She sought shelter in a deserted street lined with what had once been shops, which now stood empty and with their doors and windows boarded up for the most part. She could have dealt easily enough with locked doors – she'd learnt a spell for that early on in her journey – but the boards posed more of a problem. She ran through every spell she could think of, and flicked through her spell book. Cringing at every sound she made in the quiet of the night, she soon gave it up as a bad idea, and when she noticed one open doorway in the row, she ducked inside. The shop had stood long abandoned, its wares gathering cobwebs on the shelves, the dust of decades on every surface. The boards over the door had been smashed in not so long ago, she thought, but whoever had been here must have found what they wanted and moved on.
Perhaps she ought to have a plan for dealing with the angry prince. Perhaps he wouldn't be so angry if she apologised for that business at the jade temple. Perhaps they'd just got off on the wrong foot… She sagged against the counter, sighing heavily. All her life, all she'd ever wanted was to be a princess and marry a handsome prince. The opportunity to live out her fondest dream had dropped into her lap without her having to lift a finger, so how could she have made such a terrible mess of it? Tears prickled at her eyelids and her throat ached as she tried not to cry. “Silly time to cry,” she muttered to herself, wiping her damp eyes, “Silly Amelia. Stop it.” She tilted her head back in the hopes that the tears wouldn't brim over, because if she let the first one fall, then all its companions would follow, and the snotty sobbing, and all the unattractive accoutrements of feeling sorry for oneself. She might find her White King yet, and he might turn out be perfect, so “buck up, or you'll end up looking a frightful mess,” she growled. She didn't even have a handkerchief. She sniffed and took another look around the abandoned shop. An empty moneybox lay open on the counter with its padlock smashed off, and the floor around the counter was littered with small crystals and gems: some round and some jagged, all gathering dust. Hundreds of strips of loose paper dangled from the wall behind the counter. She'd seen them before – a variety of spells written out and ready for use – but her cat's eye spell washed their bright colours out almost to grey. Against the opposite wall stood a rack of brooms, and Amelia could see at once that these hadn't been made for sweeping: they each had a leather grip on the handle, plus a pair of fur-lined gloves and goggles tied to them. She got up and lifted one of the brooms partly out of the rack, shivering at the cobwebs but somehow managing not to shriek when spiders went running everywhere. The broom had a strange lightness to it, as if impatient to fly. Since the wyvern had
She sought shelter in a deserted street lined with what had once been shops, which now stood empty and with their doors and windows boarded up for the most part. She could have dealt easily enough with locked doors – she'd learnt a spell for that early on in her journey – but the boards posed more of a problem. She ran through every spell she could think of, and flicked through her spell book. Cringing at every sound she made in the quiet of the night, she soon gave it up as a bad idea, and when she noticed one open doorway in the row, she ducked inside. The shop had stood long abandoned, its wares gathering cobwebs on the shelves, the dust of decades on every surface. The boards over the door had been smashed in not so long ago, she thought, but whoever had been here must have found what they wanted and moved on.
Perhaps she ought to have a plan for dealing with the angry prince. Perhaps he wouldn't be so angry if she apologised for that business at the jade temple. Perhaps they'd just got off on the wrong foot… She sagged against the counter, sighing heavily. All her life, all she'd ever wanted was to be a princess and marry a handsome prince. The opportunity to live out her fondest dream had dropped into her lap without her having to lift a finger, so how could she have made such a terrible mess of it? Tears prickled at her eyelids and her throat ached as she tried not to cry. “Silly time to cry,” she muttered to herself, wiping her damp eyes, “Silly Amelia. Stop it.” She tilted her head back in the hopes that the tears wouldn't brim over, because if she let the first one fall, then all its companions would follow, and the snotty sobbing, and all the unattractive accoutrements of feeling sorry for oneself. She might find her White King yet, and he might turn out be perfect, so “buck up, or you'll end up looking a frightful mess,” she growled. She didn't even have a handkerchief. She sniffed and took another look around the abandoned shop. An empty moneybox lay open on the counter with its padlock smashed off, and the floor around the counter was littered with small crystals and gems: some round and some jagged, all gathering dust. Hundreds of strips of loose paper dangled from the wall behind the counter. She'd seen them before – a variety of spells written out and ready for use – but her cat's eye spell washed their bright colours out almost to grey. Against the opposite wall stood a rack of brooms, and Amelia could see at once that these hadn't been made for sweeping: they each had a leather grip on the handle, plus a pair of fur-lined gloves and goggles tied to them. She got up and lifted one of the brooms partly out of the rack, shivering at the cobwebs but somehow managing not to shriek when spiders went running everywhere. The broom had a strange lightness to it, as if impatient to fly. Since the wyvern had
Similar Books
