Just Ella by Margaret Peterson Haddix Page B

unexpectedly strong grasp. She locked my arms together and whispered in my ear. “You open that tent, and you will never marry the prince. Never. You will be cast from the castle like so much refuse.”
    I did what was expected of me then. I fainted.

14
    â€œYou suffered too much sun at the tournament, Princess?” Mary asked me when she crept into my room that night.
    I had been confined to my bed ever since the faint. And I do mean confined. Madame Bisset stayed in my chambers the whole time. She told everyone, “I must assure my precious charge doesn’t exert herself unnecessarily.” I believe she actually intended to berate me more as soon as I woke. So I feigned sleep until finally I heard her slip out the door at half past seven, murmuring, in the fakest voice I’d ever heard, “The poor dear is so exhausted after all the excitement. . . .”
    Mary must have been spying on my room, because she slipped in as soon as Madame Bisset left.
    â€œOf course I didn’t suffer too much sun,” I told Mary crankily. “What’s too much sun? I barely saw a single ray of sunshine. It was that stupid dress. I couldn’t breathe. Why would anyone wear that torture device?”
    Mary patted my hand.
    â€œBut you looked so beautiful in it, Your Highness. I saw you across the field. . . .”
    I snorted. “Oh, beauty. What’s that good for?”
    Mary stared, her eyes round.
    â€œIt won you the prince, did it not?”
    I snorted again. I seemed to be trying to do everything I could to annoy Madame Bisset, even though she wasn’t there.
    â€œI prefer to think he was captivated by my charming personality.” I giggled to let Mary know I was trying to make fun of myself. But Mary only looked away.
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    â€œNothing, Princess.” Mary patted my hand again. “I should leave and let you rest.”
    â€œBut I’ve been resting all day. I’m full of rest. I’m sick of it.” I shoved back the covers and sprang from the bed. I hopped up and down on the cold floor. “I want to do something. Jump. Dance. Run. Live.”
    Mary hid a yawn, and I realized who truly did need the rest. She had probably been up at dawn and had worked constantly ever since. I remembered days like that, when all I wanted to do by nightfall was drop in a heap and not move until morning. She had probably had to drag herself in to see me. She was a true friend.
    I sat down on the bed.
    â€œMary, are you tired?”
    â€œA—” She yawned again, so hugely I heard her jaw crack. “A little.”
    â€œThen you should go to bed. Really. I’ll be fine.”
    Her eyes were already half closed.
    â€œAll right.”
    But after she left, I paced the floor, so full of nervous energy I would have liked to scream too.
    Up. Back. Up. Back. What was I going to do? I absolutely could not live the way everyone wanted me to. I would go mad.
    Except—I remembered Madame Bisset’s threat: “You open that tent, and you will never marry the prince.” If I loved the prince, couldn’t I adapt? Couldn’t I change? Maybe I could get a little more freedom, force Madame Bisset and her cronies to bend some, after I was married and had some power. They could give a little, I could give a little. Surely it was worth it, for the sake of loving the prince.
    I waited to be swept up in my usual rosy glow of love for Charm. I waited for my heart to speed up, the way it always did at the thought of him. I waited for the flush to creep up my face, the delicious shiver to crawl up my back.
    Nothing happened.
    I tested myself again.
    Charm? Prince Charming? I conjured up the image of his perfect face, his perfect hair, his perfect body. I pictured him kissing me, touching me, holding me.
    I felt nothing. Except—bored.
    I paced faster, almost running, as if I could escape the thought I didn’t want to think. It caught me