A Pearl Among Princes Read Free Page B

amusing.
    â€œHe’s not very nice,” Lu says.
    Leem does as he is instructed, then walks quickly off the dock, head down, arms crossed tightly over his shivering chest. Anger rises within me. Poor Leem.
    The Oakland captain hands a missive to the Welcome Guard and after a prolonged blowing by the trumpeter, the guard announces: “Presenting His Royalness Sir Humbert of Oakland.”
    I note Leem’s face, still flushed red with shame, then turn my gaze back to the PIT fussing with his preposterous blond curls. You’re no prince, Sir Humbert .
    â€œWell, girls?” Nuff says with a sniff, pen poised. “How do you rate him?”
    We give stars, one to five, one being the lowest, five the top.
    â€œOne,” Lu says.
    â€œZero,” I say. “He’s Humpty Dumpty with hair.”

    The second ship to dock bears the insignia of the House of Ashland. This PIT politely refuses his captain’s offer of assistance, stepping out of his cabin, down the stairs to the dock, where he stops to survey the shore before him.
    â€œOoh, handsome ,” Lu says. “And older than us. Nineteen, twenty maybe?”
    â€œWhy hasn’t he been here before?” Nuff says.
    The festooned display of badges and medals on this PIT’s fine fitted jacket glints in the sun. “Most likely he’s been at war,” I say.
    â€œPresenting Sir Richard of Ashland,” the guard calls out. The Muffets ooh and aah and jostle to be noticed. There’s movement from the dais as Professor Pillage stands with a flourish and salutes. The Miramore men copy him.
    Sir Richard has neatly shaven brown hair and stunning blue eyes, cheeks and jaw chiseled sharp. We curtsy as he passes. His eyes meet mine and he smiles. This soldier prince has potential. I’m about to say as much when I see Lu’s face, eyes glossy wide and cheeks flushed crimson as her curls.
    â€œFive stars,” Lu whispers, “fifteen . . . fifty. I am smitten to the core.” She clutches her palm to her chest with great drama.
    â€œSteady, girl,” Nuff says. “We don’t know what he’s made of yet.”
    â€œOh, Nuff,” Lu sighs. “A handsome soldier of royal birth, what more do you need to know?”
    Nuff looks at me and rolls her eyes. I shake my head and smile.
    Next to arrive is Sir Peter of Elmland, long black hair in a ponytail, a silver loop hanging from his ear. The Muffets titter and wave. As Sir Peter passes, his piercing dark eyes meet mine and I feel a flutter inside. Another possibility, this pirate prince.
    â€œThat one’s a looker,” Nuff says, smiling as she makes notes.
    â€œHe’s most likely a rogue,” Lu says. “Remember that long-locks one Ivan, here last summer, got me in a hornet’s nest of trouble?”
    Sir Ivan cornered Lu for a kiss and when she refused he accused her of being a thief. Lu’s worm-spined father unfairly punished her. Heaven forbid a PIT ever tried to hurt me. Father would chop off his head with a carving knife and toss him to the swine.
    â€œWe shouldn’t hold a ponytail against him,” Nuff says, still following Sir Peter with her eyes. “I’d give him five stars. What say you, Grace?”
    Five stars is our highest rating. “Five for his looks anyway,” I say.
    The sun strengthens. Sweat beads on my brow.
    The next arrival is “Sir Henry of Hickory.” Sir Henry is short and rotund with closely set eyes, an upturned nose, and ears too large for his head. He hurries past us, head shaking with a nervous twitter.
    â€œHe looks like a mouse,” Nuff says. “Hickory, dickory . . .” Lu and I join in.
    â€œHickory, dickory, dock,
    The mouse ran up the clock
    The clock struck one,
    And down he run,
    Hickory, dickory, dock.”
    We end in a gale of laughter.
    â€œWe shouldn’t be so harsh,” I say.
    â€œHe didn’t hear us,” Lu says.
    â€œI’m