The Perfectly Proper Prince (4 page)

T
HAT NIGHT
G
ABRIELLA SLEPT IN ANOTHER
room so that the princesses could share the bedchamber with Lysandra. The four girls talked and giggled late into the night. Lysandra had never had so much fun.

Tansy, who at nine was the youngest of the princesses, had
six
brothers. “All of them are big practical jokers,” she said. “They'd make my life miserable if it wasn't for my flute. It's
the only way I can find out ahead of time when they're scheming to put snakes in my bed or worms in my porridge.”

Elena, on the other hand, was eleven and an only child. She loved books and had an amazing ability to remember whatever she read. It was part of the reason she was so good at reciting poetry. To Lysandra's relief, Elena didn't think much of
Courtly Manners and Duties.
“‘The refined lady prefers polite conversation and sewing to reading,'” she recited. “‘Too much reading tires the brain.' What rubbish. The only reading that tires my brain is this book!”

“It's perfect nonsense,” Fatima agreed. At twelve, she was the oldest of the four girls. Like Lysandra, she had one older sister. But her sister was married and had a baby, so Fatima was an aunt. She wrinkled her nose. “Speaking of nonsense, I don't know why
everyone says babies are so adorable. My nephew, Hassim, smells funny, and his bald head looks like a squashed pumpkin!”

Before the princesses went to sleep, they vowed to search for an adventure the very next day, hoping to find someone in need of their help. “We can wait until the midday rest period,” said Lysandra, “then sneak out of the castle.”

“How will we get out?” asked Tansy.

“We can use my flying carpet,” said Fatima. “It's big enough for us all.”

“Where shall we go?” Elena asked.

“How about the village?” suggested Lysandra. “There'll be lots of people at the market. Surely one of them will need our help.”

And so it was settled. The next day, when the trumpets announced the rest period, the four princesses prepared for their adventure.
They were just about to climb onto Fatima's flying carpet when there was a knock at the door.

“Hide!” Lysandra whispered. Fatima, Elena, and Tansy dived onto the beds and pulled the covers over their heads as Lysandra crossed the room to open the door.

Gabriella glanced around the room suspiciously. “Just checking to make sure you were all tucked in,” she said. “I heard you talking late last night and expect you didn't get much sleep. You know that's not good for princesses.”

Lysandra rolled her eyes. “‘To be at your best, get plenty of rest,'” she recited in a singsong voice. A loud snore came from one of the beds, followed by muffled laughter.

Gabriella lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow, but all she said was “Have a good nap.” Turning on her heel, she left the room.

As soon as Gabriella's footsteps had faded away, Lysandra and her three new friends threw on old cloaks, then raced to the carpet. Following Fatima's example, Lysandra sat cross-legged behind her, while Tansy and Elena climbed on too. Fatima grasped the front edge of the carpet and it rose into the air.

“How do we keep from falling off?” Elena asked, sounding worried.

“Easy,” said Fatima. “Just sit tight. I'll make sure it's a smooth ride. But if it'll make you
feel better, you can hold onto the side of the carpet.”

The princesses sailed out of the bedchamber window and over the valley. A delicious thrill ran through Lysandra as they soared through the air with the wind rushing past their ears.

Grasping the side of the carpet with one hand and holding onto Fatima with the other, Lysandra looked down. The fields that surrounded the village below were a hodge-
podge of patchwork squares set off from one another by bright green hedges. Curling like a ribbon, a river ran through the center of town. Clustered near it, along a dusty road, were cottages and shops.

Fatima landed the carpet in an open meadow several blocks from the village square. After everyone climbed off, she rolled up the carpet tightly and strapped it onto her back. Lysandra hoped no one had spotted them as they were flying. It wouldn't be good to have news of their adventure getting back to the castle…especially if the news reached Gabriella or her parents!

Following the ringing of church bells and the clanking of blacksmiths' hammers, the princesses walked toward the middle of town. As they neared the market in the village square, they heard hawkers selling their wares, children shouting, and babies bawling. A cart
wheel squealed, and the princesses scrambled out of the way as a peddler's wagon lurched past.

Lysandra had only viewed the market from the inside of a carriage before. Now, with the other princesses at her heels, she rushed delightedly from one booth to another, pushing through the crowds to gawk at the variety of goods for sale. There were cages of hissing geese and clucking chickens, and all manner of fresh fruits and vegetables, including plump red strawberries; luscious, ripe peaches; big, juicy tomatoes; and huge purple beets.

The princesses wandered up one crowded row and down the next, breathing in the smells of freshly baked pastries, dried herbs, and roasting chestnuts. They ran their fingers over well-crafted belts, sweet-scented candles, cloth of many colors, and beautiful leather boots.

Coming upon a booth selling shiny, red
apples, Lysandra couldn't resist a purchase. She pulled her purse from around her neck and shook out a few gold coins. “Four, please,” she said.

The merchant took the coins from her hand. “Thank you, miss.” He handed her the apples and Lysandra passed them out to her friends.

“Mmm,” said Fatima, taking a bite. “Delicious.”

“Have you ever eaten roasted chestnuts?” asked Tansy, the juice from her apple running down her chin.

“No,” said Fatima. “We don't have them where I come from.”

“Oh, you must taste them,” said Lysandra, and Elena nodded.

While they were weaving their way through the crowd to reach a woman selling chestnuts, a ragged man barrelled right into
Lysandra, knocking her over. Without even stopping to see if she was okay, the man plowed past the girls and disappeared.

Fatima frowned. “How rude!” She and Elena helped Lysandra to her feet.

“Are you all right?” asked Tansy.

“I'm fine,” said Lysandra, brushing the dirt from her cloak. But when they reached the chestnut booth and she went to draw up her purse, it wasn't there. “My purse!” she exclaimed. “It's gone!”

S
UDDENLY, FROM A PLACE DEEP IN THE MARKET,
someone screamed. Lysandra followed the sound with her eyes. Waving his arms wildly to ward off an angry swarm of bees was the same ragged man who had knocked her down only moments before. Lysandra could guess what had happened. “Follow me!” she yelled to her friends.

The four princesses wound their way
through the crowd to where the pitiful man stood shrieking. A circle had cleared around him; no one wanted to get near the bees. Lysandra spied her open purse lying in the dust at the man's feet. The neck strap had been cut. She hadn't felt a thing when he'd taken the purse.

Darting into the circle, Lysandra grabbed her purse and shut it. Instantly the bees flew straight up into the sky and disappeared. “Thank you, miss,” the man murmured sheepishly. He was covered with puffy red welts where the bees had stung him.

Lysandra frowned. “If you needed money, you could've just asked. I would've given you some.”

The man bowed his head. “Sorry, miss.”

Elena stepped forward. “Those stings must hurt. Let me give you something to soothe them.”

The man smiled, and Lysandra could see that several of his teeth were missing. “You're very kind, miss,” he said to Elena. She poured a teaspoonful of lotion from her small blue bottle into his palm. “Rub it over each sting,” she directed him.

The man did, and the painful welts disappeared. He looked at Elena in surprise. “It's magic!”

Lysandra opened her purse. Taking out a few gold coins, she held them out to the man.

“For me, miss?”

Lysandra nodded.

The man's eyes misted over. “I'm ever so grateful, miss.” Taking the coins, he bowed. “Name's Jack Flack,” he said, pointing to himself. “If you ever need any help, just give a whistle and I'll be at your service.” Bowing again, he put the coins in his pocket and sauntered off.

“He'll probably just spend the money on ale,” Fatima remarked as the princesses watched him leave.

“Maybe,” said Elena. “But we can't know that for sure. Doing a kindness is never wrong.”

A short while later, as they continued to walk through the market, the princesses came upon a puppet show. They laughed as three billy goats on strings danced along to a wooden bridge. Under the bridge, a puppet troll was sleeping. Suddenly he jerked to life on his strings. “Who's that crossing over my bridge?” he roared.

Lysandra felt a hand on her shoulder. “Who's that sneaking out of the castle?” someone hissed in her ear. Lysandra jumped and gave a startled yelp.
Owen!
She hadn't seen him since he and his friends had begun playing by the stables. She hadn't missed him either.

Owen smiled nastily. All the princesses
were staring at him. “Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Lysandra sighed. “Fatima, Elena, and Tansy, this is my cousin Owen.”

Owen looked from one girl to the other, then back to Lysandra. “My, my,” he said, smirking. “I don't think your parents will be too happy to hear about this. Stealing away to the village in disguise. And during your nap
time, too! They'll probably send your new friends packing.” He paused and held out his hand, palm up. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” growled a voice. Suddenly Owen's feet left the ground as he was hauled up by the front of his shirt. “Excuse me, miss,” Jack said. “Is this gent bothering you?”

Lysandra nodded.

Owen struggled like a worm on a hook.
“Put me down! I'll have you know, my father is the Duke of Brithia.”

“Is that so?” said Jack. “Then I'm sure he'll be real interested to know what you've been up to, threatening these young misses.”

“They're not ‘young misses,'” Owen spat out. “They're
princesses
.”

Eyeing their old cloaks, Jack Flack winked at the four girls. “Of course they are,” he said. “And I'm the King of Zamora.” He drew Owen toward him until they were nose to nose. “These young misses are friends of mine. In the future you'll be staying away from them, understand?”

Owen nodded. His chin wobbled as he tried not to cry.

“Good,” said Jack. He set Owen down. “Because if I ever hear of you bothering one of them again…” He drew a finger across his throat.

Without a backward glance, Owen bounded away like a frightened rabbit.

“Thank you,” Lysandra said, opening her purse.

“No, miss,” Jack said quickly. “It should be plain I'm no angel. You've already given me more than I deserve.” Whistling, he waved good-bye and went on his way.

“Not that I'm ungrateful,” Fatima said, “but I thought
we
were going to help someone—instead of the other way around.”

“But isn't it good to give
and
to receive?” Elena asked.

“You're right,” said Lysandra. “But maybe it's still not too late to find someone who needs our help.”

Tansy's eyes twinkled. “I have an idea.” She drew her flute from her pocket and began to play. As the notes flowed, a tide of thoughts swirled through the air. If the princesses
hadn't concentrated so hard on hearing them, the thoughts would've been lost in the conversations of the crowd. As it was, no one but the princesses seemed to hear them.

Lysandra watched a scowling woman take a plucked chicken from a nearby butcher. The woman's thoughts drifted toward Lysandra like smoke from a fire.
I just know I'm being cheated,
she thought.
This chicken is so scrawny, it couldn't weigh more than a handful of feathers.

Sour old woman
, thought the butcher.
I give her the best I can for her few coins, but still she thinks I'm cheating her. I can see it in her face.

Turning her head in another direction, Lysandra spotted a beautiful girl flirting with a cobbler.
He's not good enough to kiss my boots, but I shall make him want to,
she thought.

Iris is pretty
, the cobbler thought,
but I'll
take a plain girl with a good heart any day.

Lysandra turned again.
Woe is me,
came a sad voice.
No one will ever know I'm a prince.
Startled, Lysandra glanced around but couldn't locate the voice's source. Then she heard it again.
No princess will ever want to marry me
, the voice moaned.
And I've only myself to blame.

Lysandra looked at Fatima. “Do you hear him too?” she whispered.

Fatima nodded. “A
prince
—here in the marketplace? But where?”

“Shh,” said Elena. Dropping to her hands and knees in a very unprincesslike fashion, she began searching the ground near their feet as Tansy continued to play.

“What're you doing?” asked Fatima. “The prince can't be
that
short!”

Suddenly Elena lunged forward, catching
something between her hands. She scrambled to her feet. “He's not your traditional prince,” she told them, opening her hands. “He's a
frog
prince.”