Dragon Heat (Dragons of Perralt Book 2) by Sher Dillard Read Free Book Online

aunts, and sisters. The wives of his friends. If any of them suspect the truth they’ll put a stop to the wedding so fast, it will make your head spin. They cannot afford any family scandal. They don’t want to look stupid in front of the other royal families.”
    Laila’s insides clenched up. How was she going to pull this off? She couldn’t be a princess, it was impossible.
    “The hair we can fix,” Emily said. “It is the hands I am worried about. They look like she’s been laying bricks all her life.”
    Laila winced as she looked down at her hands. She’d never noticed before. It had never been important. But, the woman was right. The back of her hands looked like they had been rubbed with sandpaper, the nails were cracked and jagged. Her palms were worse, as rough as a cow’s tongue.
    These were not the hands of a princess.
    “Can we fix them in time?” Flint asked. She wanted to slap him. Why couldn’t he like her hands? The feeling of joy at his happiness with her hair disappeared in an instant. He didn’t like her hands.
    Emily shrugged. “I don’t know, we can try.” She said to Flint. Turning to Laila, she said, “I want you to soak your hands every morning in palm oil and every night in goat fat. One hour each. Just before the party, we will do them up. You’ll see. It might work.”
    Laila turned to Flint, silently asking him his opinion.
    He smiled encouragingly and said, “You can do this, Laila. I am positive.”
    She felt her insides grow soft at his simple smile. If he thought so. Maybe she could.
    “Shall we eat?” Flint asked, as if they hadn’t just spent the last few minutes tearing her apart.
    Laila’s stomach threatened to rumble at the thought of food. She quickly placed a hand over it to try and calm it down before she embarrassed herself even more.
    Stepping to the first chair to the right of Flint’s, she pulled it back and began to sit down.
    “No, Laila,” Emily exclaimed. “You are a princess. You always wait to be seated. Either by a servant or the highest ranking male in the room. Do you understand?”
    A flash of shame washed through Laila as she fought to hide per burning cheeks. How could she be so stupid?
    Flint shot her a look of pity then quickly moved to pull her chair back.
    “My mistake,” he said. “I should have been quicker. It won’t happen again, Princess. I assure you.”
    Her heart grew with wonder. The man was taking the error for himself. Trying to save her from the embarrassment.
    She allowed herself to be seated, then watched Emily like a hawk perched above a chicken coop. Every move was analyzed, categorized, and memorized. The way the woman unfolded her napkin and gently laid it in her lap. The way she sat erect, not allowing her back to touch the chair.
    Laila copied each move. The gentle smile of thanks to the servant serving her. Which fork she used for which course. The way her arms never touched the table. The woman was perfection.
    Emily glanced over, perfectly aware of what Laila was doing, giving her a slight nod of approval each time she accomplished something.
    Flint, at the head of the table, was oblivious. He ate with gusto. Rested his arms on the table and sometimes used the same fork for two different courses. Why did he get to act like a heathen? she wondered. Why did society have two different rules for women and for men?
    The meal progressed, Laila was beginning to feel comfortable. She almost believed this might be possible. It wasn’t so hard. Just new rules. Heaven knew her old life had a million and a half rules. These were just different rules. Break them, and you stood out. Follow them, and a person could blend in.
    Reaching over her shoulder, the footman poured a deep ruby drink into a goblet in front of her. She watched Emily daintily grasp the crystal cup and bring it to her lips.
    Laila, followed suit, bringing the wine to her lips, she took a long sip and immediately spit it out across the table. The crap tasted