Ruins of Camelot Read Free

eye again and sneaked off to play a prank on her schoolmates.  She fumed up at Darrick in the green shadow of the field grass.  His smile grew thoughtful.
    "Let me go—" she hissed, squirming, but then, suddenly and for no apparent reason, he dipped his head towards her.  His lips pressed against the corner of her mouth, firmly and clumsily but quick as a snake.  The next moment, he was gone.  She heard his footsteps thumping away towards the school.
    Gabriella pressed her palm to her cheek, covering the memory of his lips, her mouth open in a small O of angry surprise.
    "Gabriella!" a voice called sharply.  It was Treynor, irritated and worried, of course.  Gabriella scrambled to her feet in the grass and ran towards the rear entrance of the stone building atop the hill.  Beyond it, the castle loomed over the trees, poking its spires at the sky.  Treynor spied Gabriella and scowled.  His dark eyes spoke volumes as she pretended not to notice him.
    Darrick was already inside of course.
     

     
    "What does it mean to be a princess?" Gabriella asked that evening, leaning on the side of the tub.
    "Chin up," her nurse, Sigrid, instructed, hefting a small bucket of foaming water.  Gabriella lifted her chin dutifully, and Sigrid poured the water down the back of Gabriella's head.  It was warm, pasting her hair to her neck and shoulders in dark blond ribbons.
    "It means being the daughter of the King," Sigrid answered, clunking the bucket to the floor and retreating to the vanity.
    "That's a boring answer," Gabriella said, leaning back against the slope of the tub and flicking her finger at a raft of suds.  "That's not what I mean."
    "Pity it's the truth," Sigrid commented, selecting a tall bottle of perfumed oil.  Gabriella grimaced at it and stuck out her tongue.
    "Everyone thinks it's so grand to be the Princess, but what's so special about it?  Father says that in the old days, princesses didn’t even get to go to school with the noble children or anyone else.  They learned everything from tutors and barely even left the castle.  Even now, I’m lucky if I am allowed to walk to the school with Treynor, rather than ride in a carriage with four guards.  All the ceremony and pomp, it’s all just like a mask I wear.  It doesn’t have anything to do with me.  I could just as easily have been born to the potter or the miller.  I could have been born a peasant."
    Sigrid returned to the tub and settled her considerable bulk onto a stool.  She tugged the stopper from the oil, dabbed some onto her palm, and began to rub her hands together briskly.
    "Do you wish you'd been born a peasant?"
    Gabriella turned in the tub so that she faced the tall, mullioned window.  It glowed dusky purple, almost the same colour as the oil in Sigrid's bottle.  She didn't answer.  After a moment, Sigrid began to stroke the oil onto Gabriella's hair and comb it in.  There would be one more washing after that, removing most of the oil but leaving the scent of it.  It was nice to be taken care of this way, but it was also strange.  Gabriella knew that none of her schoolmates had such luxuries.  It should have pleased her, but instead, it gave her a vague unease.
    Sigrid spoke as she combed Gabriella's hair.  "Being a princess is not all baths and perfume, darling," she said in a mildly chiding voice.  "You are afforded such luxuries because you are expected to bear great burdens.  You will carry weights and responsibilities that your friends will never know."
    "What responsibilities?" Gabriella asked.
    "You do not need to know such things now, dearheart," Sigrid said, and Gabriella could tell by the sound of her voice that her nurse was smiling.  "Your concern, I think, is much simpler."
    Gabriella frowned.  "Ow," she said as the nurse tugged at a tangle in her hair.  "Tell me then.  What is my real concern, Sigrid?" she asked doubtfully.
    Sigrid hummed to herself for a moment.  Finally, she said, "Your true concern is