The Threads of Magic by Alison Croggon (best books for students to read .TXT) 📗

next, he said. But Georgette didn’t have any money in her pockets. Princesses never had coins. They didn’t need them.

Pip returned and tapped her shoulder. “Left,” he said. “I think.”

“Do you really know where we’re going?”

“Sort of.” Pip suddenly grinned. “More than you do, anyway.”

“It doesn’t look like it to me.”

“I can find ways,” said Pip. “And I know how not to be followed. Trust me.”

Georgette, reflecting that she had no choice, sighed and followed him. She was too tired to argue anyway.

For a while, she had thought things were about to work out in the way she had always imagined they would, and that she would be queen after all. It had been exhilarating, being borne aloft among a crowd of cheering followers, all headed to the palace to overthrow the king. Georgette could see herself taking the throne as the people celebrated, sending her father with a lordly gesture to the dungeons — with which he had so often threatened her — and making everything in the city of Clarel right and just. But it was a naive lie that she had told herself.

When the crowd had charged into the square in front of Clarel Palace, they had run right into a line of soldiers, whose silver armor gleamed in the sun. Nobody had been frightened, at least at first. Everyone had shouted defiantly and waved their weapons and kept marching. They had expected the army, after all. But Georgette wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

The horsemen lowered their spears and charged. Georgette had fallen to the ground. She still didn’t know how she hadn’t been trampled to death. And then there was the fighting, the smell of blood, the feel of it beneath her shoes.

And Georgette, brave Princess Georgette, had run away.

She didn’t know if the soldiers had killed everybody or if the people had fought their way through and taken the palace. She had scrambled desperately through the fighting, dodging the clashing weapons. And then she had run until she was so exhausted that she had collapsed in a heap. And she had stayed there until Pip tripped over her. She wasn’t brave at all, like she had imagined she was. She was a coward.

With every step she took, she felt more ashamed of herself.

Georgette was so wrapped up in her own miserable thoughts that she wasn’t taking any notice of what was going on around her. When Pip halted suddenly, she cannoned straight into his back. He cursed, and that was when she saw the fear in his face. It was so stark that she went cold all the way through her body.

At first she didn’t know why. There was nobody nearby. They stood in a narrow, empty street lined with shuttered windows and locked doors, the afternoon sun shining on the cobbles. A street like hundreds of others in Clarel.

And then a shadow swept over them, and she wasn’t in the street at all. She and Pip were in another place. She could hear someone crying as if their heart would break. She knew at once that it was the same boy she always heard in her dream, the dream where her mother sat on the throne in front of the stained-glass window. A little boy, weeping and afraid.

Everything around them was shadowy and insubstantial, as if it weren’t quite real. It was like the street where they had been, only drained of life, as if they were surrounded by the ghosts of buildings. Pip alone seemed solid. Instinctively, Georgette grabbed his hand. He didn’t pull away. She could feel his pulse hammering under her fingers. Pip’s hand was the only warm thing in the whole world.

“Did you really think that you could escape me?”

The voice came from behind them. It was a beautiful voice, low and rich, rippling with amusement. Pip and Georgette whipped around, still clutching each other’s hands, but there was no one there.

“I’m afraid that you underestimate me. Princess, you should have known better. You did know better.” A low laugh. “Yes, I saw how you cowered when you saw me. I know how afraid you are.”

Clovis hiccupped and stopped crying, and for the first time Georgette could see him: a small boy, his shoulder-length hair the same color as hers, crouched in a ball against Pip’s legs, like a small animal too afraid to move.

As if the darkness coalesced, a form took shape in front of them. Georgette gripped Pip’s hand even more tightly. It was King Oswald, as she had last seen him, in the sober but expensive attire that he favored.

“Come, Princess,” he said. “Your pointless rebellion is now over.”

Georgette stirred. “I won’t,” she said thickly.

“Leave her alone,” said Pip.

Oswald cast Pip a look of contempt. Pip felt a pressure on his throat, as if someone were resting their hands around his neck, wondering whether to strangle him. He gulped and steadied himself. “I told you, leave her be.”

“I’ll be dealing with you in a moment,” said Oswald. He turned his attention back to Georgette. “Dear me. A girl of your lineage hobnobbing with a common thief. How low can a princess go? Imagine the scandal if anyone knew. In this one instance, I will overlook it and allow you to retain your honor.” He smiled and reached out a white, ringless hand.

Georgette recoiled in horror. “I’d rather die!”

Oswald’s smile snapped out. “How disappointing you are,” he said. “You could make this so much easier for yourself. But I assure you that, although you will be severely punished for your disobedience, I will not permit you to die.”

“I don’t care what you permit,” said Georgette, although even she could hear how hollow her defiance was. The assurance in Oswald’s voice was absolute: he knew she had no way of escaping him. He was just playing with them, a predator teasing his prey. She could see in his eyes what her future was going to be. It was worse than anything she had imagined back in the palace.

Clovis