The Spy Princess Read Free Page B

myself everywhere, even underneath the tunic’s laces. Then I raced through the garden, made sure the sentries couldn’t see me, and got myself over the wall.
    Outside Selenna House the weeds grew untended, and the wild olive trees were picked clean. I set out for Riveredge, using the shrubbery along the stream as cover. I was glad I was used to going barefoot, because the ground was stony and full of weed-stickers. I passed abandoned houses, the roof-thatch gone along with the doors. Some of the stone walls had been taken apart and hauled away.
    Soon the occupied part of the village was in sight.
    My father’s carriage always followed Prince Street, the once-grand main road, which cut through the town square. The houses there were in the best condition, though much repaired. The rest of Riveredge looked terrible.
    On the few remaining fences, somebody had scrawled
Unity!
and
Down with Tyranny!
Then I stopped short. Decorating one wall was a skillful drawing of my father, Peitar—and me.
    The fat, fox-faced girl with the long hair had her nose turned up and her mouth turned down. Next to her stood a larger, fatter man wearing a gigantic wig, his mouth turned down, too. The one that upset me was the crooked figure, more crooked in the sketch than in real life.
    I burned with anger. It wasn’t Peitar’s fault our father had forced him onto the back of a warhorse when my brother was seven—of course he’d get thrown!
    Even when I was small, I somehow understood that the accident never would have happened if Uncle Darian hadn’t insisted Peitar was spoiled, that he needed to get trained and tough. My uncle had banished all the mages from the kingdom, in case any were conspiring against him; that meant the healer mages were gone, too. Uncle Darian always said a strong man healed on his own.
    So Peitar’s shattered knee was never treated correctly. That was when he’d started reading in earnest—Lizana had told me about the first year, when pain kept him awake at night, and he set out to read every single book in our library.
    Whoever made that drawing had no idea.
    I gave the wall a last glare and walked on. I passed a few more houses and reached a rickety bridge just as a swarm of boys and girls arrived from the other direction.
    â€œThere he is!” Bren! My heartbeat quickened again. “Larei! Here!”
    He was perched on the wooden rail. In the daylight, I saw that his patched tunic had long ago lost its laces, and that he, too, wore knee pants, cast-offs from the fashion of the generation before. The others were as ragged and dirty. I sauntered warily toward them.
    â€œWe were calling the hatchlings hatchlings.” Bren flapped his arms at me. “Said they were chased off. I say they lie. Did you see anyone t’other night?”
    A small girl with filthy blonde hair whined in look-at-me injury, “I
saw
the
cripple
and they won’t
believe
me. He said I should run away before the guards got me. So I
did
.”
    â€œNow why would he do that?” Deon asked sarcastically. “I think you made it up. His Crookedness would call the guards on you and laugh as they dragged you to the guardhouse.”
    â€œDoesn’t make sense,” another boy exclaimed. “Why should Crook-Leg send you off?” As he said it, he made a gesture with two fingers, one straight and one bent.
    â€œHe did! He did!” The little girl hopped from one foot to the other, shrieking as the others continued to scoff.
    I didn’t dare tell them that Peitar would be likely to do just that. But the girl crouched down in a ball on the other side of the bridge, her arms wrapped around her legs as she sobbed, all showing off forgotten. “He did,” she cried. “Crook-Leg sent me away.”
    I couldn’t stay silent anymore.
    â€œI say it could’ve happened.” Everyone turned my way. “It’s a big place. Who knows—maybe some of