The Princess in the Opal Mask by Jenny Lundquist Read Free Book Online Page B

River and slipped into the water. But when I tried to surface, I found I could not because my mask was too heavy. And no matter how much I thrashed about, it kept pulling me downward, until I could no longer see the sunlight.
    “What do you dream of this time?” he asks.
    “I dream that when the crown prince and I meet he decides the mask is not enough.” I close my eyes. “I dream that he decides to lock me away in a crypt, where I am hidden from others, unable to cause harm.” I breathe deeply and open my eyes. “Please, tell me what I should do.”
    “Do not give up so easily.” His voice is sharp. “There is still time.” His gaze strays to my lips and his voice lowers. “I will do everything in my power to prevent this. I will not let you go.”
    He continues staring, and then quickly stands up and straightens his robe. “I am afraid I must be going,” he says, calmness returning to his voice. “It seems your brother has been giving his new tutor trouble. Your father has asked that I speak with him.”
    “Of course,” I say, blinking rapidly. “Of course you must.”
    He leaves and I continue to sit on the bench, feeling more disoriented than before.
    I give myself a small shake, trying to clear not only the fog in my head, but the unease that has suddenly sprung up in my heart.
     

CHAPTER 8
WILHA
     
     
    T he day I had my first training session with Patric, my arms shook from the weight of the sword and we had to end the lesson after only several minutes of practice. After that I swore to myself I would not be the weakling I am sure everyone believes me to be. Most nights I practice with my sword, trying to memorize the footwork and techniques Patric has taught me.
    In my imagination I battle an unknown, shadowy enemy. An enemy who assumes the freakish Masked Princess will be easy prey, but is shocked to discover a warrior just as capable as the fiercest palace guard.
    In these moments I feel less like the Masked Princess and more like someone else. A dawning glimpse of someone I could be. Someone who is real and solid, made of flesh and sinew, blood and bone.
    Of course, I win each of these imaginary battles with ease.
    But in my real training sessions with Patric, he often has to repeat his instructions two, three, sometimes four times. Despite all my practicing, the techniques do not come easy.
    “That was sloppy,” Patric says, his mouth set in a firm line. “You are distracted today.”
    I do not reply. Instead, I adjust my mask and step toward him. He blocks my lunge and slaps my sword away. “Mind your position!” He takes a menacing step forward. “You’re being clumsy. You’re not a circus performer, though right now you look like one.”
    I stop, taken aback. “What is the matter with you?” I lower my sword. “Why are you being so mean?”
    Patric sighs and lowers his own sword. “Princess, I wasn’t being mean. I was trying to distract you and it worked. When you are facing an opponent, never pay attention to his words. Use them to your own advantage if you can, but your attention should be focused only on his weapon.”
    As he speaks, he raises his sword and points it at my neck. “See? What if I had been your enemy?”
    “But you aren’t my enemy,” I say.
    “You can’t afford to think like that.” He shakes his head. “Not now, anyway.”
    “What do you mean by that?” I ask, stepping back and looking from the tip of his sword and into his eyes. “Are you saying I am in danger?”
    “No,” he says quickly. “That’s not what I said.”
    I stare at him, unsure if I should believe him. Patric may be my friend, but he is also one of my father’s most valuable soldiers, and will follow whatever orders are given to him. Even if that means keeping things from me. “Then why have I been required to take these lessons? How many princesses are trained to defend themselves?” I gesture to the soldiers standing along the wall. “Isn’t that why we have