Palace of Lies by Margaret Peterson Haddix Read Free Book Online

behind her. She whipped them aside, revealing a scene of still-smoking rubble in the incongruously bright sunlight.
    â€œI am so sorry,” Madame Bisset murmured. “The palace burned completely to the ground.”

6
    Madame Bisset seemed to expect me to be more distressed about losing my palace than losing my sisters.
    And I was more . . . stunned, anyway.
    Because I still have hope for my sisters. And I was worried about them all along. I knew they were fragile and unprotected. But the palace . . .
    The palace had survived hundreds of years of Sualan royalty living and dying, being born and growing old. It had outlasted twelve generations of the people I still thought of as my ancestors.
    But I couldn’t deny that it was gone now.
    Unless . . .
    â€œThat’s not the palace!” I protested. “You’re just showing me . . . some other building that burned!”
    Even as I spoke I could see a courtyard between me and the rubble: It was the same courtyard that I’d faced every day from the palace balcony. I was just on the other side of it now.I must be lying in one of the houses across from the palace.
    The yellow one with the gingerbread trim? I wondered. Or the red one with the outline of dragons on the roof?
    I was amazed that I could still think of such frivolous things as gingerbread trim and fanciful wooden dragons. What did it matter which house I was in?
    Because . . . you’re going to have to escape , I thought.
    This was a big shock too. But it made sense. Somebody had put the other girls and me in danger—maybe even killed some of the others. Somebody had burned down the Palace of Mirrors, the only home I’d ever known. Somebody had deposited me with this strange woman who may or may not be Ella’s worst enemy.
    Was it an overreach of logic to suspect that the first two crimes probably meant that I was still in danger here and now?
    â€œDesmia?” Madame Bisset said softly, and I recognized the tone. This was how Lord Throckmorton often operated: Just when he’d driven me to the brink of madness with his conniving, he’d turn around and be unexpectedly kind.
    Except, I had quickly learned that his kindness was always fake. It was like a velvet glove on the hand that beat me.
    Madame Bisset doesn’t yet know that I consider her my enemy , I reminded myself.
    â€œHow . . . ?” I began, and I didn’t have to fake the tone of shock. “How did it even start? How is it possible that everything is gone . . . my sisters, my palace . . . and the others who were there that night? How many of the courtiers, the servants, are . . . are . . .”
    I acted like I couldn’t bear to speak the word, “dead.” Only, I wasn’t sure that it was an act. Maybe I really couldn’t.
    â€œNo,” I moaned. “Don’t tell me about the others. Not while I’m still absorbing the news about my sisters. . . .”
    I was dangerously close to admitting a truth. I couldn’t think about anyone but the other princesses right now.
    Madame Bisset patted my hand, as if rewarding me for my shocked, stunned, humbled tone.
    Shocked, stunned people are probably easier to fool , I thought darkly.
    I made myself listen carefully to Madame Bisset’s answer.
    â€œIt is believed that one of the ribbons festooning the ballroom came loose, and perhaps blew into one of the candles,” Madame Bisset said. “There was a devilish breeze last night—did you notice?”
    How could anyone believe that story ? I wondered. How could one loose ribbon set three long walls of draperies and tapestries on fire in the blink of an eye?
    But it was probably like everything else in the palace—people tended to believe whatever gave them an advantage, whatever gave them greater power or diminished their enemies’.
    Probably everyone in