Princess Academy Page 20

  Olana, watching from the corridor, smiled proudly.

  When the ceremony ended, the priest turned to face all the girls. “The king wishes me to convey his approval of this academy and of each of you. In honor of his son’s betrothed and this academy, the king renews his love for Mount Eskel and raises its status from a territory to the sixteenth province of Danland. Let the potentials approach.” No one moved, so the priest gestured to the academy girls. “You are the potentials.”

  The girls stepped forward in a nice, even line, and Miri joined them.

  “I name each of you graduates of this academy, citizens of Danland, and ladies of the princess.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Frid, staring wide-eyed at the priest.

  “At the very least,” said Steffan, “it means you are all invited to Asland to attend our wedding in one year’s time.”

  The girls exclaimed and turned to one another, chattering about seeing the things they had learned about, and the food and dances.

  “The ocean!” said Esa. “We’ll see the ocean.”

  Katar stood alone, a polite smile frozen on her face. Miri wondered if she was thinking not of going to the capital, but of having to come back again.

  The prince’s party set out a splendid luncheon of cold meats, cheeses, fruits, and breads, and they all sat at the academy benches, planning their trip to the lowlands. Miri watched Britta beside the boy she loved. Her eyes shone, her smile was wide and genuine. Her gestures lost their flustered anxiousness and became smooth and confident, the weight of her insecurity lifted.

  Miri’s heart was warm and her lips kept insisting on a smile, but for some reason she could not eat as heartily as she would like. She wondered if she might be jealous that she was not chosen. No, that thought rang false. She observed Britta and Steffan, the way they leaned toward each other, the way no one else seemed near.

  Miri’s heart throbbed. It must be a marvelous thing to feel so sure, to be able to meet someone’s eyes and not look away.

  “Don’t go home yet,” Britta said to Miri as the priest summoned her and Steffan out of the room.

  So when Esa and most of the other girls left for the village, Miri stayed behind. She walked the academy corridors, eyeing the floorstones and calculating which areas would be the easiest to pull up to sell without damaging the building. She even peeked into the now empty closet and hissed at the dark, “I’m not afraid of you, you tiny rat! I’m a mountain girl.”

  Perhaps an hour later, she spotted Britta and Steffan walking together outside. Steffan held Britta’s arm in his own, and they talked low, having to incline their heads close to hear. Their foreheads nearly touched, their hair mingling. A hawk passed overhead, and when Britta and Steffan looked up at its curling dive, Britta caught sight of Miri and motioned for her to join them.

  “There you are!” said Britta. “Miri Larendaughter, may I present Steffan.”

  “We’ve met,” said Miri, making a proper curtsy, “the night you were sick.”

  “Britta, is that why you weren’t at the ball?”

  Britta nodded. “I was barely conscious. I think I was just terrified that you’d consider me foolish for being here and choose someone else anyway.”

  Steffan laughed, making eyes with Miri to share the joke. “Britta, I knew you were here! Your father sent word, and I was so relieved, because then you and I . . .”

  He stopped, and this time both he and Britta blushed, finding the topic of their marriage still new and awkward.

  “So,” Steffan continued, his eyes down, “when I thought you weren’t here after all, I was so disappointed I couldn’t hide it, and I tried to meet all the girls and still make a choice, but I’m afraid I did a poor job of it.” He glanced at Miri.

  “He did a stunning impression of a stone column,” said Miri.

  “You didn’t retreat into your stiff, formal self, did you, Steffan?”

  “I was nervous! You weren’t here, and I hadn’t prepared myself to meet anyone else.”

  “I would have laughed if I’d seen you,” said Britta.

  “Not to worry, because Miri did for you. I could have guessed that she of all the girls would be your friend. I am sorry for leaving the academy so abruptly, but I couldn’t make a decision until I knew what had happened with Britta. You can imagine my frustration when I returned to the capital and learned from one of the servants that there had been an academy girl who hadn’t attended the ball, and then have snow seal the mountain pass and have to wait all this time . . . Well, it was a long winter.

  “I spent more of it than I should have liked locked in a small room with the chief priest going over books of law. I wanted to be certain there would be no obstacle to our betrothal, so I told him of you, that your parents were not from Mount Eskel and still living. It took a couple of months, but eventually he agreed that no law could prevent it. I have the impression, though, that the priests might amend that rule before our . . . before the next prince heir marries.”

  Steffan was loath to leave Britta’s side, but a minister soon had him rounded up to speak with Olana and sign official documents.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said several times, turning around as he walked away to wave at Britta.

  Britta waved back and put a hand on her chest. “I feel like my heart will burst. How could everything be so wonderful?”

  “You deserve it,” said Miri.

  “I can think of one thing that would make it nicer.” Britta smiled, as though with a secret. “You remember what we learned about the difference between a territory and a province.”

  “Oh,” said Miri, the thought stirring her. “Mount Eskel will need a delegate to represent us at court.”

  “Your status as an academy graduate and princess’s lady makes you a worthy candidate, and I know Steffan would be eager to recommend you to the chief delegate. Then for the majority of each year you could live in Asland with me!”

  The offer was rich and inviting, an answer to miri flower wishes, but she hesitated only a moment before saying, “Take Katar instead.”

  “Katar? But why—”

  “She’s only a horror because she’s so miserable. She’ll be an excellent delegate, I really think she will. And I’d like to be home for a while.”

  “All right, but I’d rather be with you.” Britta saw Steffan across the way, and she waved and sighed. “When you come to the wedding next spring, you’ll have a chance to see Asland and decide if you want to stay. You could live in the palace as a princess’s lady, or attend the university and become a tutor, or just sit in the palace library and read the year through. Be warned before you come that I plan on doing my best to keep you there.”

  “I hope so. I would like to see more of the world.” Miri spotted the white cap and brown shirt of the priest as he stood near the cliff edge, gazing at the view. “I can’t help wonder about the princess choosing—I mean, if you were destined to be the princess, why didn’t the priests divine your own town Lonway instead of Mount Eskel?”

  Britta glanced at the building. “Maybe the priests did know what they were doing. Maybe Mount Eskel didn’t need a princess, just an academy.”

  The rest of the girls were heading back to the village, and they waved to Britta as they passed, shouting congratulations. Katar was among them, gazing at the ground as she walked.

  “Katar, wait!” said Britta, running after her.

  Miri watched as Britta offered the invitation. Katar’s expression changed, quick as the end of a summer storm. Her old tightness relaxed, her chin started to quiver, and she turned her face away. Miri knew it must pain Katar to show such emotion, and she hoped Britta would pretend not to notice or leave her alone. But instead, Britta embraced her.

  Miri nodded, feeling confident that there was no one better in the world to be Kata
r’s first friend.

  The royal party was hitching horses to carriages and wagons, so Miri ran back into the academy with hopes of some last business. She had one gold coin in her pocket, a gift from her father, and she meant to use it well.

  “I’d like to keep the clay tablets and some of the books,” she said as she entered the classroom.

  Olana was setting the last book in a leather sack. “I kept our agreement. Britta will recommend me to the prince for good work in the capital, so you have nothing to hold over me. You can have the tablets, but these books are from my personal collection, and you don’t have anything of worth to trade.”

  Miri tossed her father’s fat gold coin onto Olana’s table. It clanged and rolled to a stop.

  Olana scooped it off the table, and it disappeared into her pouch. “I was mistaken. Six of the books are yours to keep. You certainly excelled in Commerce.”

  Miri suspected Olana was being generous, but she did not argue. She selected six books and hugged them to her chest. They felt like the most valuable things in the world, better than a little gold coin, better than a wagon full of linder. Reading those books had changed her, and she could not wait to let the whole village feel that difference.

  She wondered if she should say good-bye to Olana before leaving, but it seemed awkward, something a friend would say to a friend. So she walked to the door without a word.

  “A moment, Miri.”

  Miri stopped. Olana was holding the painting of the house.

  “Tell the other girls that I . . . You might explain how the burden of turning rough mountain girls into princesses, on my shoulders alone . . .” Her voice tightened, but if she was near tears, her eyes did not show it. She shook her head, and her familiar stern expression took hold of her features. “I had to provoke you, you know. I had to make you angry so you would want to study harder, to spite me. I don’t regret any cruelty. It worked. But I do regret one lie.” She hefted the painting. “There never was such a house. I brought this painting to give you girls another incentive to be diligent.”

  Miri had thought nothing could surprise her after learning the truth about Britta, but once again that day she found herself reeling with shock. Hours she had spent staring at that painting, imagining Pa and Marda walking through the garden, passing through its door, lounging in comfortable chairs by its hearth.

  “But how would you get away with such a lie?”

  “It doesn’t really matter now, does it? Apparently Britta’s family already has an estate much grander than the house in this painting. If the prince had chosen one of you girls, I doubted the royal ministers had any intention of bringing her family to the capital. No use getting angry over what-ifs.” Olana placed the painting in an empty cloth sack and handed it to Miri. “Here. You’re academy princess. You earned the painting.”

  Miri carefully added her books and tablets to the sack. A gift from anyone was a nice thing, but from Olana it felt like a miracle. And now she had something she could give her family. It was not a real house. It did not mean they could sit all day and watch the flowers grow. But Pa would have been bored, and Marda would have missed the mountain. Miri could still give them something beautiful, and they would never have to leave home. The painting was the best present after all.

  “Thank you,” said Miri, and meant it for more than just the painting. She left without another word, thinking that “thank you” was nicer than “good-bye” anyway.

  After a final farewell to Knut, Britta, and Steffan, Miri began her walk home, the precious sack cradled in her arms. She was watching the ground before her so she would not stumble and did not know someone had approached until she felt a tug on her sack.

  Miri was startled, thinking of bandits, but it was Peder.

  “Hello,” he said, taking the bundle from her.

  “Peder, I nearly lost my heart with surprise . . .” She looked away, afraid that mentioning her heart to Peder was too revealing.

  “I thought I could walk you back. Esa returned hours ago and told me about Britta. I came to tell you, I’m glad you weren’t chosen.”

  “Yes, so am I.”

  Peder exhaled loudly. “I was worried. It seemed these last months that you had been hoping . . . Are you really all right?”

  Miri smiled. “Yes, I’m perfect.”

  Peder returned his mischievous smile. “That’s what I’ve been thinking all along.”

  They walked in silence for a time, neither able to think of anything to say after that. Finally Peder spoke again and told her that his father had agreed that Peder could take the time to chisel designs into one block of linder.

  “If any traders are interested,” said Peder, “if they will pay more for it than for a plain linder block, he says I might do it all the time. I don’t think he ever would’ve given me the chance if things weren’t so much better now. Thank you.”

  Miri had an impulse to laugh or say something funny or mocking, but instead she said, “You’re welcome, Peder.” Then she did laugh for no reason, her heart beating and her stomach all twisty feeling.

  “What?” said Peder. “What’s the joke?”

  “No joke. I just feel good, good like laughing. Next year I’ll go to the capital for the wedding, and you could go as well. You can study with stone artisans, and I can read all the books in the palace library.”

  “What if there are a hundred? Or a thousand?”

  Miri balked at the thought. “There couldn’t be that many in all the world. . . .” She tried to imagine it. Could there be? And how long would it take to read them? And what would they say?

  “If you’re going to read a thousand books, you should get started soon,” said Peder.

  “Maybe. But I haven’t enjoyed home in so long, and now I think I can—I want to try. I want to make my pa’s breakfast, and take care of Britta’s garden, and spare Marda the slaying of the winter rabbits. And I want to open an academy in the village where anyone can come learn. Esa is going to help me.”

  “I think she’ll enjoy that,” said Peder.

  “I’ve thought about it, and I decided that you can be a student, too, if you’re good.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “But it will cost you something—one linder hawk.”

  Peder nodded as if impressed. “An interesting choice of payment. What ever made you think of such a thing?”

  “I had one before, and it was the most . . . Well, actually, the most precious thing I own is the week right after I was born when my mother held me and never put me down. But the hawk was the second most precious thing. I was sorry to lose it, and if you make me another one, I promise not to get taken captive by bandits and have to use it to save my life.”

  Instead of laughing, Peder hefted the sack and swallowed, looking very nervous. “Of course, I will, but I was wondering something else, if we, if you . . .”

  Peder shook his head as if giving up on words, reached out, and took her hand. Miri bit her lip to keep herself from pulling away. She was certain he could feel her heartbeat in her fingers and would know that inside she was trembling and sighing. Then after a time she stopped worrying. She could feel his heartbeat, too, and it was as fast as a fleeing hare.

  When they entered the village, Peder still kept hold of her hand. Frid stared as they passed, Esa blushed for them, Gerti and her three younger sisters giggled and chased after, chanting about a kiss for every miri petal. Twice Miri relaxed her hand in case he wanted to leave her, but he held on even tighter.

  Only when they reached her house did he finally let go. “We can talk later, or go for a walk tonight, if you like.”

  Marda and Pa were back from the quarry early and sitting on the large stones beside Britta’s garden. Miri gave them the painting, leaned her head against her pa’
s shoulder, and smiled as they cooed over the gift.

  They watched the light change in the west, striking the afternoon with yellows and oranges, and sang a harmony of three parts. Pa sang low, Marda high, and Miri the melody. “Plumb line is swinging, spring hawk is winging, Eskel is singing.”

  At their feet, the curly fronds poking up in Britta’s garden were greener than the mountain grass, greener than the needles on the small, twisted trees, almost greener than the garden in the painting. Miri thought if she could just keep the goats out of it, Britta’s garden would grow to be the greenest thing she would ever see.

  She leaned over the little rock fence to pick fallen linder chips from among the plants and tossed them up the slope of scree. Among the gray scraps of rubble rock, the white and silver linder gleamed like jewels. From the cracks in the rocks all around, the miri flowers were already blooming.