Burning Kingdoms. Lauren DeStefano

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ IV.”

      Delight flashes in the princess’s eyes.

      “I’m Celeste,” she says. “The one and only daughter to King Lican Furlow.” She pauses. “The first.”

      Jack Piper laughs, and I can’t tell whether he finds her delusional or charming.

      “You will have to tell me all about your father and his kingdom,” Jack Piper says. “But for now, I’ve arranged proper accommodations for all of you.”

      The princess looks to me, her shoulders hunched with excitement.

      She’s completely mad. She knows it, too. It’s her madness that made her the only one among us brave enough to speak. She means to remain a princess, no matter whose kingdom she may have fallen into.

      We are whisked back into the vehicles. “Cars,” I hear someone call them. They’re all black with spare wheels fastened near the front doors. They emit dark clouds through pipes, and the seats rattle as we move. I try to find comparisons to the train cars back home, but there is no comparison. We have nothing like this. This is a different world.

      “They won’t hurt us,” the princess says into my ear. “It wouldn’t be civilized.”

      “I don’t know how you can be so certain,” I say.

      “It’s standard diplomacy,” she says. “Papa says I have a real talent for it. He thinks I might even become a decision maker once I’m old enough. I’ll have to find something to do with my time once my brother is king.”

      Decision making is one of the few professions that can’t be chosen. Decision makers are scouted and trained privately. They hold our society in their palms, deciding which queue applicants will have boys, which will have girls, and who should be betrothed to whom. And that’s only a small part of what they do. It’s as powerful a position as one could have. Next to being royalty, that is.

      I shudder to think of Princess Celeste as a decision maker. We became acquainted after she and her brother shot Pen and me with tranquilizers and imprisoned us in the basement of the clock tower.

      Not that any of that matters now.

      The car stops before a building barely visible in the whiteness of the storm. I can see that it’s the color of sand and has curved edges, and it’s larger than any of the buildings on Internment. Again, we’re hustled from the cars and through the front doors.

      Everything inside is red and gold.

      Behind me, Alice is murmuring things into Lex’s ear. He can’t see any of this; I wonder if he senses the differences between the ground and home at all, aside from the ridiculous cold.

      “Welcome, welcome to my humble home,” Jack Piper says. He sheds his coat, and one of the drivers is standing at the ready to collect it.

      Pen and I exchange incredulous expressions. Home? This place is easily larger than our entire apartment building.

      “Children,” Jack calls.

      With the rumble of footsteps overhead, they emerge at the top of the steps, pushing and shoving one another and then, upon realizing their audience, straightening their clothes, smoothing their hair, and marching down the steps single file.

      They assemble before us in order of height, all of them with Jack Piper’s light brown hair. The smallest is in ringlet ponytails, and the tallest is long and lean, with round lenses around his eyes. They appear to be magnifying glasses, though I can’t imagine why they’re on his face.

      “This is my son,” Jack Piper says, gesturing to the boy with the lenses. “Jack Junior, though we all call him Nimble. Like the nursery rhyme. I don’t suppose you know how it goes. And this is Gertrude.” The second tallest lowers her eyes shyly. “And that’s Riles.” The third tallest, a boy, smirks at us. “And Marjorie. And that’s Annette.”

      The littlest girl curtsies with all the petite grace of a dancer in a jewelry box. “A pleasure to meet you,” she says.

      “Is it true you came from the floating island?” one of the children says.

      “Riles, manners!” snaps another.

      The boy with the lenses regards us wryly. “Welcome,” he says, “to the capital city of Havalais.”

      I don’t understand that name he’s just said. Have-a-lace. He gestures theatrically to the letters etched into the wall behind him:

      HAVALAIS: HOME OF THE FLOATING ISLAND

      2

      “Five!” Pen whispers, after she’s closed the door behind us. “I counted five children. The nerve, Morgan.”

      “Shh. Someone will hear.”

      “Oh, who’s to hear us? This building has more rooms than Internment has people.”

      “He works for the king,” Celeste says. “He could be spying. Though it isn’t as though we have anything to hide.”

      Pen narrows her eyes. “Nobody was talking to you, Your Bloody Highness.”

      “I am only trying to help,” Celeste says. She sits on the bed and fans the skirt of her dress around her. “As the only one among us with any knowledge about public relations.”

      “What public relations?” Pen cries. “You and your brother only ever left that clock tower to fire darts and arrows at things for sport.” She looks to me. “I’m not sharing a room with her. I won’t be able to close my eyes at night unless there is a lock between us.”

      The three of us have been left alone to share a bedroom as large as the apartment I shared with my parents. Jack Piper told us that we would find clothes in the closets and “a place to wash up down the hall.” One of the children boasted about their indoor hot water both upstairs and down; it’s quite revolutionary, he said.

      None of us questioned the way we were divided up and sent to the bedrooms. We’re approaching all of this with due caution.

      “Pen, come here. Try to be calm,” I say, patting the space beside me as I sit on the adjacent bed.

      She chews on her knuckle and paces.

      “All right,” Celeste says. “I know the three of us haven’t gotten off to the friendliest start—”

      “You kidnapped us and held my betrothed at knifepoint,” Pen says.

      “Yes, and you tried to murder my brother. We’re quite even. And despite what you may think, I do know a thing or two about people. That sign out there says that this is the home of the floating island. That means they recognize where we’re from. They’re interested, maybe even fascinated. They know nothing about the way our city is governed, and now for the first time they have a chance to learn. Perhaps their king and my father can do business.”

      “Oh, wake up, will you?” Pen turns to face us. Behind her, the white flurries are tangled in a dance within the window frame. “Their king and your father can’t СКАЧАТЬ