Read Princess of the Silver Woods (Twelve Dancing Princesses) for Free Online Page B

endured at the Midnight Balls. Petunia did remember being sick toward the end, so sick that it hurt to move, but having to dance with Kestilan all the same. Jonquil, in particular, grew hysterical at any mention of the balls, and she, Hyacinth, and Iris still refused to dance no matter the occasion.
    Petunia, however, had been delighted when Poppy had come home from Breton three years before with a renewed fondness for dancing. Petunia had missed dancing, and she had been hopeful that her time at the Russakan court would allow her plenty of opportunities to do so. But the letter of introduction that her father had sent with her to the Emperor of Russaka had excused her from dancing, saying that she was incapable of such strenuous activity.
    She knew that her father had meant well, had been trying to save her from something that he assumed she held in disgust, but it had made Petunia’s stay in Russaka dreadfully awkward. Not only was she forced to spend every ball sitting with the chaperones, but the letter gave the impression that she was an invalid. The Russakan people were very vigorous, enjoying all sorts of outdoor events as well as dances and parlor games that involved running through the sprawling Imperial palace, hiding in wardrobes and under beds.
    Petunia, just twelve at the time and only allowed to put her hair up and wear ball gowns because she was on a “state visit,” had been anxious to join in, but it was not to be. Instead she sat beside great ladies like the Grand Duchess Volenskaya and judged the games, trying to smile bravely as she handed out boxes of sweets or bottles of scent to other girls who had ridden their ponies over elaborate steeplechase courses or hidden longer than any other guest or danced particularly well.
    Her hero had been the grand duchess’s grandson, Prince Grigori. Though older than she, he had gone out of his way to make Petunia feel welcome, sitting beside her through many of the games and dances so that she wasn’t lonely, with all the chaperones’ talk of “grandchildren and poor health” as he had put it. He also spoke impeccable Westfalian, thanks to his Westfalian grandfather, and was able to teach her a great deal of Russakan during her year at the court.
    Which led to her being here, in the middle of the forest with a cold nose and dead leaves catching at the hem of her beautiful new cloak. When the grand duchess had invited Petunia to keep her company at her Westfalian estate, she had mentioned specifically that her favorite grandson would be there.
    “I must have all my favorites about me,” the elderly lady’s letter had said. “And that includes my most dashing grandson as well as my most beautiful flower princess.”
    “We’re almost there,” Oliver said.
    Once again Petunia was so startled that she tripped andwould have fallen if Oliver hadn’t caught her around the waist and pulled her upright.
    “You must have been far away,” he said, laughing. He was so close that his breath stirred her hair.
    “I’m right here,” she said, shrugging him off.
    “I meant in your head,” he said.
    Petunia straightened her cloak with as much dignity as she could manage. “I suppose I was,” she conceded. “Not that
your
conversation isn’t riveting.”
    She was pleased to see him turn red again, but then she felt ashamed. It was the kind of comment that Jonquil could carry off but Petunia never could. Jonquil would say such things to her suitors, and they would fall over themselves trying to please her. Oliver just looked hurt.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “Did you say that we’re almost there?”
    “Yes. The road is just through those trees. Once we reach it, we’ll only be a few minutes from the estate.”
    “Oh,” she said, hardly showing a sparkling wit herself.
    They walked in silence until they were standing atop a low bank that looked down on the road. Petunia hopped down the bank, glad for the hard-packed dirt of the road to walk on. Struggling