Princess Academy Palace of Stone Read Online Free

  PRINCESS ACADEMY

PALACE OF STONE

SHANNON HALE

For my Dinah

A princess in her own right

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter Iii

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Affiliate Half-dozen

Chapter Vii

Chapter 8

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Xiii

Affiliate Xiv

Chapter 15

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Xx

Chapter 20-one

Chapter Twenty-ii

Chapter Twenty-three

Affiliate Twenty-iv

Acknowledgments

Also past Shannon Unhurt

Near the Writer

Chapter One

The stone-lined road is the way to piece of work

The rock-lined road takes the work away

The rock-lined route is the way to take

If y'all accept that route away yous'll always take that mode back home

Take you lot there and have you lot domicile, there's nothing simply the rocky route

Miri woke to the insistent bleat of a goat. She squeaked open one eye. Pale yellow heaven slipped through the cracks in the shutters. It was day—the very day trade wagons might come up to acquit her off. She'd been expecting them all calendar week with both a skipping middle and a falling stomach. Strange, lately, how many things made her feel two reverse ways twisted together.

Peder was like that.

Miri crept from her pea-shuck mattress to the window. A figure stood in the doorway of Peder's house. She waved, Peder waved dorsum, and those addled feelings popped within, her chest light and excited, her caput tight and unsure.

She felt ii means about domicile too, she realized, looking out at the few dozen houses of Mount Eskel, their roofs traced white with dawn light. Her mountain was big. The world was bigger.

A noise called her dorsum. Her sis, Marda, was sitting upwardly, and her pa likewise, stretching and groaning from the ache of slumber. For them she felt only one way. And for them she never wanted to get out.

Miri talked while she helped Marda stack the mattresses to articulate the floor, and talked while she dished upwards breakfast, and talked while she led the goats from the adjoining room into the precipitous light of morning. If she talked, she did not have to think. Thinking but made her stomach fall faster.

"Peder'due south granddaddy says he's seen more bees this fall than he can ever remember, and that means the winter won't be as well difficult, but if information technology freezes and thaws all the time you lot'll have ice everywhere, so I think we should dump more gravel on the path to the stream—"

"Nosotros'll be all right, Miri." A goat pushed against Marda's side, and Marda rubbed its ears. "You don't need to worry."

Pa was walking ahead of his girls. His back tensed confronting Marda's words.

"Pa …," Miri said. She wanted him to say that he would be all right without her.

They reached the quarry, a huge bowl of white stone, rectangles of rock jutting at odd angles. Already dozens of villagers were squaring blocks of linder stone they'd cut from the mountain and were hauling them out of the quarry. The nearest grouping worked one rock together, singing to keep in rhythm: "Take you there and have yous home, there's naught but the rocky road."

Pa halted at the edge. "Look us for lunch, Miri, so long as …"

Miri finished his thought. And then long every bit the wagons accept non come up.

Pa hefted his pickax and strode into the pit. Marda followed, turning to shrug at Miri. Miri shrugged back. They both knew their begetter's temperament.

Miri tied her goats on a slope where they could graze, then skipped back down to the house. She picked up a letter from the table, every bit she had each forenoon since it arrived with the traders in the summer. The letter nevertheless seemed as magical as books had when she'd outset learned to read.

She had the letter memorized, but she read information technology again anyhow. Information technology was from Katar, who had left Mount Eskel for the capital several months earlier.

Addressing Miri Larendaughter, Lady of the Princess,

Mountain Eskel

Miri,

This is a letter. A letter is like talking to someone who is far away. Practice not show the others in example I am doing it wrong.

This fall, extra wagons will go with the traders to bring to Asland any university graduates who are willing. You are invited to stay one year. I know you, at least, will come up. It is a long trip. Bring a blanket to sit down on in the wagon or yous will get a bruised behind.

At harvest, each province in Danland presents a souvenir to the king. Equally this is the first year Mount Eskel is a province, I want our gift to be really fine. I cannot think what we can offer besides linder. I do not recollect goats would be quite right. Please tell the village council that the linder must exist special, perhaps a very big block of it. I practise not slumber well with worry. I grow tired of the mocking fashion the other delegates speak of Mountain Eskel.

I am anxious for you to come up. At that place are things happening in Asland. I need advice, but it would be dangerous for me to write near it, I think. I hope it will not be besides late by the time you arrive.

This letter is from Katar, Mount Eskel'due south consul to the royal court in Asland

Miri put the letter back on the table, held downward past a shard of linder—white stone struck through with veins of silver. She could not gauge what unsafe matters Katar wanted to discuss with her, but that had non kept her from trying to imagine all summertime long. And summer had seemed very long indeed.

Miri picked upwards a second alphabetic character and could not help smiling as she read Britta's looping handwriting.

Miri Larendaughter, Mountain Eskel

Beloved Miri,

I am delighted to write to you! Though I would rather talk to you in person and sit every bit we used to exercise in the shade of the princess university, watching hawks glide. At least I have skillful news to share. The rex has invited the academy girls to come up this fall! Autumn is not near enough for impatient me, just information technology is closer than next spring.

I will brag just a little and claim credit. I made a very pretty argument that the mount pass might all the same be stopped with snow in the bound and prevent you lot from arriving in time for the wedding. And how could the princess be married without the princess'southward ladies?

You girls will room hither at the palace. Palace seamstresses will brand you dresses in the Aslandian way, so delight do not fear on that account.

Also, I have wonderful news! In that location is an open up spot for you at the Queen'south Castle, the university I told you about. Studies brainstorm afterwards harvest, then you lot see, some other reason I am eager to have you here earlier bound.

More practiced news. A stone carver my father used to rent has agreed to take Peder into apprenticeship. Gus volition business firm and feed Peder in exchange for a year'due south labor and one block of linder.

There will be so much for us to do hither. I can scarcely sleep sometimes for daydreaming! Let the summer wing on hot, swift wings.

Your friend,

Britta

Traders came up to Mount Eskel only once each spring, summer, and fall, so Miri had been unable to reply to either girl. She had no uncertainty Katar was going crazy with worry near their gift for the king. Miri could not wait to surprise her.

Miri ladled morning gruel into a pot and headed out the door. Peder had spent the past three months sweating over the gift. And since his family was short one quarry worker while he labored, the other village families supported Peder with meals. Today was Miri's turn. While her pa and sister worked in the quarry, Miri kept the house a

nd goats.

She ambled over the rock chippings that covered the ground to Peder's house, knocking once and letting herself in.

"Skilful morning, Peder," she began, stopping when she saw Peder'south father, Jons, standing with artillery folded. The mood in the cottage had the seize with teeth of wintertime air current.

Peder slumped onto a stool. "My begetter is reconsidering letting me go to Asland."

"Non reconsidering," Jons said. "Decided. Y'all've already wasted three months carving this thing. Since your sister is leaving us, you'll be staying."

For Peder, quarry work was mindless, endless. He'd been carving bits of linder into animals and people for years, yearning for a chance to do information technology more. Miri wanted to plead with Jons merely checked herself, remembering the rules of Diplomacy she had learned at the princess academy.

"I tin can understand, sir, why y'all want Peder to stay. He hasn't worked in the quarry since the summer traders came. Besides, it would be difficult on your family to lose both children for a year."

"Just and then," he said, squinting suspiciously. "It'southward impossible."

"I would agree, but in this case, sending Peder to Asland will exist much more than useful for your family unit and the village in the long run. As it is now, after the traders haul our stone downward the mountain, artisans in Asland bit abroad half of information technology to make mantelpieces and tiles and such, and they earn a good living doing it."

"Exactly!" Peder said, continuing up. "Why shouldn't we do that piece of work here, ourselves? After I'm trained, traders could bring me orders in the fall, and then I'd work through the winter and transport the carvings down in spring."

"Traders can haul twice equally much finished rock every bit rough rock," said Miri, "which would hateful twice as much pay for anybody."

Jons narrowed his eyes farther. Miri swallowed just asked the terminal question.

"I know Peder will be diligent in his apprenticeship and practise you proud. Will you lot let him go?"

She held her breath. She could not hear Peder breathe. Jons turned to look out the window.

"Fine," Jons said with a grunt. He paused to lay his hand on Peder'south caput before leaving.

"Yous're amazing!" Peder said, hugging Miri.

He took a pace back and smiled equally if he truly loved looking at her face. Then he started in on the breakfast.

Why doesn't he enquire? The thought was so well used it squeaked in Miri's mind like dry out hinges. She was of age to be matrimonial. Peder seemed to like her and no one else. Yet he did not inquire.

Afraid to look at him in instance he could read her thoughts in her eyes, she leaned over the mantelpiece he'd been etching. She traced the images of Mount Eskel and the chain of mountains beyond, beautifully captured in linder.

"It'due south smoother," she said.

"I've been polishing it."

An unmistakable sound reached them from outside. They rushed to the window to see the first in the line of trader wagons, crunching rock debris under metal-rimmed wheels.

Miri was holding Peder's warm, callused hand. She did non know who had reached out commencement.

They ran to run across the wagons, along with nigh of the hamlet. Trading began, families selling cut blocks of linder and purchasing foodstuffs and supplies from the wagons. In the past, trading day had been an anxious occasion, each family bartering for only enough food to avoid starvation. But since the previous year, when the villagers were starting time able to sell their linder at fair value, trading days had become festivals.

Children danced in excitement over ribbons and cloth, shoes and tools, bags of dried peas nonetheless in their shucks, barrels of honey and onions and salt fish. Such items had always seemed magical to Miri, show of fabulous, faraway places. How ofttimes she'd daydreamed of cities, farmlands, and endless ocean. Now at last she would go. But she did not feel like joining in the dance.

Peder caught upwards with his female parent to help in the trading, and Miri sold her family's stone. So she went in search of her sister.

"Please come, Marda," she said, panic tightening her pharynx. Marda was not an academy graduate, but she knew Britta would non mind, and the other girls adored Miri'south gentle sis. "I idea I wanted to become, but I'thousand scared. I need y'all. Please."

"You lot're not scared," Marda said quietly. "Or you won't be for long."

"Marda, I'g serious."

"I'1000 not similar you, Miri. Learning about all those places and past kings and wars, information technology makes me feel similar … like I'm sleeping on a precipice. I don't like that feeling. I want to stay home."

"Only—"

"Pa and I both know you'll be fine. And so fine, in fact, he worries you won't come up back."

"He does?"

Marda nodded. "So do I."

Miri shook her head. She could not imagine staying away forever by choice, only and then much could happen in a twelvemonth, then many obstacles to coming home. And what dangerous matters did Katar fear? Miri felt her chin start to quiver.

Marda rubbed Miri's back and forced a confident smile. "A few blinks and you'll be back. A year's a small-scale affair."

Marda's words reminded Miri of a line from a poem she'd read in one of the academy books, then she said, "No pocket-sized thing, a bee'south sting, when it enters the heart."

"A bee'due south sting entered whose center?" asked Marda.

"It's just a poem. Never mind," Miri said. She should have known Marda would not sympathize, and that made her feel equally alone as if she were already gone.

Marda put her arm around Miri, tucking her caput against her own. Miri noticed her sister had grown taller in the past year. She was older than nearly Mount Eskel girls who accepted a betrothal, yet no one had spoken for her. Once all the village boys were betrothed, no others would come rushing up from the lowlands to take their identify. And Marda was too shy to speak for herself.

Every bit soon as she returned from Asland, Miri decided, she would be matchmaker for her sister. And she'd continue education in the village schoolhouse till every villager could read, including her pa. She felt better making plans similar ropes securing her to her mountain.

The trading hurried forth, culminating in the trading-day feast. Now information technology was a cheerio feast.

Not all the graduates of the princess university would be going. Some were kept back at their parents' wishes; others had accepted betrothals and did not want to leave. Miri would travel with 5 girls: Gerti, Esa, Frid, Liana, and Bena. Each carried a burlap sack filled with her few possessions. Miri clutched her ain sack to her chest. The summer had seemed endless, but now that this moment was upon her, it felt sudden and sharp, a hawk in a hunting dive.

"I'll write to you lot," she told Marda. "Every week. And I'll send the whole stack of letters with the spring traders. And the messages will all say the aforementioned thing—I miss you lot, and I'll be home next fall. Dwelling house for skillful."

Marda just nodded.

Her begetter approached, his hands behind his dorsum, his eyes on the ground. Miri stepped forrad to see him.

"Don't forget to butcher the rabbits come high winter, when the pelts are thickest," she said. "It breaks Marda's heart to do it, and if I'g gone …"

He glanced at her then away again, frowning into the chain of mountains: brown, royal, blue, and beyond, ghostly gray summits seemingly afloat above the clouds.

"I will come back, Pa," she said.

"I wonder," he said in his depression voice. "I wonder."

"I hope."

He picked her up, pressing her to his chest every bit hands as if she were nevertheless a baby. How could an embrace make her feel exquisitely loved and still heartbroken too?

"I'll always come home, Pa," she said.

But a shiver of dubiousness had entered her.

Miri sat in the back of a wagon as it drove away, her optics taking in every last image of habitation: her house built of gray rubble rock, the white gleam of linder shards marking the paths, the jagged cliffs of the quarry, and the magnificent, white-tipped head of Mount Eskel.

&nb

sp; She felt night-blind and afraid, as if walking a path that might lead to sheer cliff and empty air. The lowlands were so far away, she could hardly believe they existed. Once she was in the lowlands, would home seem like a dream too?

She glimpsed Pa and Marda one last fourth dimension before the road bent and, quick equally a sigh, the village was gone from sight.

Chapter Two

The city of the river

The metropolis of the bay

The people of the limestone

The people of the clay

Miri's jaw ached from gaping. First, in that location were the lowlander copse, their enormous leafy crowns still then vibrantly green it injure her eyes. Next, farmlands stretched so far they curved with the world, green and golden. And so the wagons rolled onto actual streets, past wooden houses winking with glass windows. The roofs were made of thatch or tile with the occasional one of beaten copper—some new and orange but most a weathered green.

Trying to keep her voice steady, Miri said, "So this is Asland."

Enrik the trader rolled his optics. "No, this is merely a town."

That night they camped outside the town. Miri looked up from her supper of bacon and potatoes and met eyes with a thin girl, chewing on a stick. The town girl did not speak, just watched Miri with wide eyes. Had she come to meet the astern folk of Mount Eskel? Would she run home and make fun of the manner Miri ate? Miri hunched her back and turned away.

By the third day, Miri was accustomed to the rhythm of the journey: forest, farms, boondocks, repeated again and once again, the shuddering lope of the railroad vehicle constant beneath her. She rarely gaped anymore and almost forgot to be afraid until the day they entered Asland.

The rain began every bit a mist and thickened into annoying pecks on their faces and hands. Soon it was an onslaught, and the girls huddled together under an oiled cloth in the back of Enrik'southward lurching wagon. Miri's stomach squelched.

When Bena made sick noises over the side of the wagon, Miri scrambled frontward and out from under the textile, into the rainstorm.

"Expiry would be amend than riding nether there," she announced. "Decease or rain."

Princess Academy Palace of Stone Read Online Free

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