The Dragon of Trelian by Michelle Knudsen Page A

shoulders slumped, focused on nothing but getting back to her mistress, errands complete. The gate guard barely glanced at her as she went back through.
How nice it must be,
she thought wistfully,
to have such freedom! To be beneath notice, free to come and go as you please.
    Once past the gate, she took off running across the ward. Gods, she loved to run. Loved the feel of her legs pumping, stretching out, propelling her forward, her loose hair flying behind her. Running down the long, dark hallways of the castle just wasn’t the same, especially not while wearing a dress and balancing a golden circlet on her head. Nan Vera invariably caught her at it and made her stop, anyway.
Princesses walk, Meglynne!
Ugh.
    She took a roundabout way back to her rooms, checking the hallway to make sure it was empty and then slipping quickly and quietly past her sisters’ doors and down to her own. She opened the door and darted inside, closing it behind her. Safe at last.
    Then she turned around and saw Maerlie and Morgan sitting side by side like disapproving bookends in the deep, rose-colored chairs Mother had had made for all the girls’ rooms several years ago. Her sisters were staring at her expectantly, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
    Meg froze, torn between trying to explain her way out of this and turning and running right back out the door. What were they
doing
here?
    Several seconds of unpleasant silence passed. Finally, Morgan leaned forward in her chair.
    “Hello, sister,” she said calmly. “Did you have a good afternoon?”
    Meg swallowed. “Yes, thank you,” she said. “And you?”
    “Yes, lovely, thanks. Maerlie and I met with the seamstress about our dresses for the wedding, and then we had a pleasant lunch with Mother and Queen Carlinda.”
    “How nice,” said Meg, still standing with her back pressed against the door. “Queen Carlinda seems very kind. Do you find her so?”
    “Yes, quite,” Morgan answered. “You really must take some time to chat with her soon.”
    Meg nodded politely and stole a glance at Maerlie. She was sitting back in her chair with an amused smile on her face. When she caught Meg looking, she gave a quick shake of her head:
Sorry, you’re on your own.
    “Maerlie,” said Morgan, after watching their silent exchange, “why don’t you tell our dear sister who came calling for her this afternoon?”
    “Oh, do you mean that handsome young man with the prince’s party? What
was
his name? Winston? Wilhelm?”
    “Wilem?” Meg blurted, stepping away from the door. “Wilem came calling for me?”
    Both sisters turned slowly back to look at her with predatory smiles.
    “Yes, Wilem,
that
was his name. Quite the charmer, wasn’t he, Morgan?”
    “He certainly was,” Morgan said. “He seemed so disappointed to find you not at home, Meg.”
    Meg looked back and forth between them. “What — what did you tell him? Where did you say I’d gone?”
    Morgan’s eyes went round and innocent. “Well, that was quite a quandary, since we had no idea
where
you were. We had to come up with something, of course, so we told him you were out riding with your favorite suitor — what name did we give him, Maerlie?”
    “Micah.”
    “Yes, right, we said you were out with dear Micah and that we didn’t expect you back anytime soon, because out of all the eager young men pursuing you, this one was especially handsome and intelligent —”
    “And muscular,” Maerlie put in.
    “Right, and
muscular,
and so we were certain you’d want to spend as much time as possible in his company. . . .”
    Meg stared, unable to think of anything to say. Surely they were only teasing; surely they would never —
    When both of them burst into helpless peals of laughter, she had her answer. Maerlie was practically crying, she was laughing so hard. Meg felt her face go red with mingled anger and embarrassment.
    “That wasn’t funny,” she said softly.
    “Oh, Meg,” Maerlie said, wiping at her eyes.