Just Ella by Margaret Peterson Haddix Read Free Book Online Page A

me. And while it would be delightful to see the scandalized expression on Madame Bisset’s face, I did still want to marry the prince. Not to mention, to continue living. Considering that I’d been confined to my room for letting my petticoat slip out and show beneath my skirt for an instant, I had a feeling Madame Bisset would view banister sliding by a princess as a crime worthy of execution.
    â€œWas it as much fun as it looks?” I asked Jed.
    He grinned in a way that made me think he must have been an awfully ornery little boy.
    â€œOh, yes. My brothers and I would sneak out at night and have races, one of us on each side.”
    â€œBrothers?” I asked.
    â€œI have three. All younger, and all away at school in the East,” he said.
    â€œSo, will they all become priests like you?” I teased.
    He grimaced.
    â€œNo, ’tis only the oldest who must follow his father’s career. They may do as they wish. They would be allowed to work with the war refugees, as I may not. If any of them wanted to. Which they don’t.”
    â€œWhat do they want?” I asked.
    He laughed.
    â€œTo be priest to the king. The one thing they won’t be allowed. What’s that your friend, the servant girl, is always saying?”
    I’d told him about Mary.
    â€œOh, you mean”—I mustered up my best imitation of her voice—“don’t that beat all?”
    We laughed together, at either my poor imitation of Mary’s words or the perversity of Jed’s brothers.
    â€œI wish—,” I started, and immediately clamped my mouth shut. For what I had intended to say was, “I wish I could laugh this way with the prince. I wish I felt as close to him as I do to you.” I didn’t need Madame Bisset around to tell me those were inappropriate words, indecent thoughts. But I shouldn’t worry. The prince and I would feel close as soon as we could be together without a chaperon.I was just lucky that Jed, being a priest in training, didn’t need to be chaperoned in my presence as well.
    â€œWhat do you wish, milady?” Jed asked with mock formality.
    Because I had to say something, I blurted out, “I wish I knew if you know the truth about me.”
    I saw a gleam of interest in his eyes, as if he’d been longing to discuss this but hadn’t felt he could bring it up himself. In that instant, I decided to tell him everything.
    â€œWell, I do know,” he started slowly and carefully, peering straight into my eyes, “that you’re not a Domulian princess, as is claimed.”
    â€œAnd how do you know that?” I asked.
    He began ticking off the reasons on his fingers.
    â€œOne, Domulia is the farthest land we know of, and you probably could not have had time to hear of the ball and travel here between the time it was announced and the time it was held.”
    â€œMaybe I have magical powers,” I teased.
    He seemed strangely jolted by that, but went on.
    â€œTwo, Domulian princesses are famously ugly and wart covered and you, well, are not. Either one. Ugly or wart covered.”
    It was the first time he’d mentioned my appearance since the day we met. His glance made me uncomfortable.
    â€œAnd?” I prompted.
    â€œThree, you once told me a story about your father giving food away to a hungry neighbor. Kings do not live nearhungry people, and if they do, they don’t feed them. They employ them. Or banish them.”
    â€œBut maybe my father was an extraordinary king,” I argued.
    Jed ignored that.
    â€œAnd, four, you do not remember this, because I was far in the background, practically out of sight, but I was there the day the prince put the slipper on your foot and whisked you away to the palace.”
    I blushed. How had I missed him? Of course, that day I’d had eyes only for the prince. I vaguely recalled that he’d had a crowd of retainers with him, but they had seemed more like