The Princess Curse by Merrie Haskell Read Free Book Online Page B

with every single one of us, for every single dance. Like we don’t already get enough of that .”
    “The worst of the dancing Saxons learned his lesson,” someone else—Maricara, I think—added with grim humor.
    “His name is Iosif,” someone else put in quietly. “And if Corvinus is coming, Iosif’s the reason why, so maybe we should remember that name.”
    “What’s Corvinus going to do?” another voice asked. “It’s the Wallachians we should worry about.”
    “Oh, la, Wallachians. They’ve no bite without the Impaler.”
    “Oh, la, Wallachians!” This new voice was mocking, harsh. I imagined it belonged to Lacrimora. “If your precious papa doesn’t produce an heir soon, the Wallachian Prince is going to insist on being named the heir to Sylvania. And if Vasile agrees, the Hungarians will attack. And if Vasile doesn’t agree, the Wallachians will attack.”
    “Then Papa had just better get busy with his little bride, hadn’t he!”
    I wanted to hear more, but Marjit flapped her hands like the wings of an excited chicken, motioning me to open and close the far antechamber door. We tromped loudly back to the bathing chamber, and when we came in, the princesses were silent, their faces as smooth as peaches.
    After this, Marjit had me help with the scrubbing and sponging and hair washing. The time went quickly.
    When the princesses were gone, I turned to Marjit. “What was that all about?”
    Marjit shook out her towels with a snap. “One of the Saxons, Tereza’s betrothed, went missing just last night. The one called Iosif.”
    “But why . . . what’s that have to do with crows?”
    “The crows are probably sent by Corvinus, the Hungarian king, to spy.”
    “Well, how do you know that?” I asked, astonished.
    “ Corvinus means ‘crow,’ doesn’t it? And he’s the one who supports the Saxons who live in Transylvania and fight the Turks. Which the Transylvanians are not so fond of, I might add, except for when the Turks invade.” I knew this. I’d grown up with Saxon nuns in Transylvania. “The Saxons sent a delegation to us, including this Iosif, who was minor nobility of sorts, to lobby Prince Vasile for the Hungarian cause. But now Iosif is missing, the latest victim of the curse, and Corvinus is going to be angry.”
    “That’s silly! Corvinus must know there’s a curse. How can he get mad when someone gets caught up in it?”
    “Corvinus doesn’t actually believe the curse is real. Corvinus thinks that Prince Vasile is just imprisoning everyone who disappears, and is working dark magic on the ones who fall to the sleeping curse.”
    I stared at Marjit. It had never occurred to me that people would think the curse wasn’t real. Or that they would think it was all part of a political machination on Vasile’s part.
    “The only thing that has saved Sylvania to this point,” Marjit said, “is that whenever we tried to send the princesses away, storms and earthquakes rose up to chase them—and we had to bring the princesses right back to make it all stop. So Corvinus may not believe in the curse, but everyone in this region believes that Vasile controls a great magic. That’s protected us more than anything else. They think, If this is what he’ll do to keep his daughters at home, imagine what he’d do to an invader! ”
    “I see,” I said, though it wasn’t true; I was just barely beginning to see. “It was . . . nice of you to let me overhear the princesses with you.”
    Marjit snorted, spreading out her towels to dry. “It en’t kindness. I need a second witness if the princesses spill one of their secrets. I thought this morning, with Tereza’s betrothed disappearing and all, we’d hear sommat useful.”
    “We did! They said the dancing Saxon learned his lesson.”
    Marjit shook her head. “Not enough to go to the Prince about.” She sighed. “Trust me.”
    I considered. “If we did overhear something useful . . .”
    “We’d split the dowry, of