The Firethorn Crown Read Online Free Page A

her head, the circlet competing for attention among the golden waves. Except for a weariness about her eyes and a few lines around her mouth, Mother could be mistaken for one of the princesses.
    Lily’s slippered feet whispered into the vastness.
    Mother scanned her and the girls from head to toe, her artist’s eyes catching the subtle differences from their session with her that morning. She raised an eyebrow in silent question at Melantha’s absence. Looking Eben up and down, she dipped her chin in a polite dismissal.
    Lily had hoped he could stay, but he wasn’t in uniform.
    “Your Majesty.” Eben bowed and exited through the door that led to the library.
    “I hope your manners shine today, girls.” Because most of your appearances leave something to be desired was what she didn’t say.
    “Where’s Father?” Lily took her place beside Mother while the girls arranged themselves in order of birth.
    Mother answered evenly as Pol opened the doors. “Razor-tails down at Vinita. Two villages were destroyed, and they attacked the city itself.”
    No wonder Father had gone. The razors hadn’t been so bold in years. She hoped the dragon guard disposed of them quickly, without any casualties.
    Lily couldn’t dwell on the dragons. She had a prince to under-impress.
    “His Royal Highness, Prince Holic, Third Son of Osha.”
    Prince Holic entered with his small entourage—a valet and two guards. He paused to give his gloves to the valet, and then strode directly to Mother. He was certainly vibrant. Not his clothes, which were brown and travel-stained, and she couldn’t be sure of his personality so soon, but rather his hair. It was short and bright and orange, sticking up in contrasting angles all over his head. The scruff on his face camouflaged his pale freckles.
    He waited for Pol to begin proper introductions, although he’d no doubt memorized all their names by now, and perhaps even general descriptions, so as not to get them too mixed up. He looked sideways at the row of princesses, back to Mother, and then sharply back to one princess in particular. Hazel always drew attention during these formalities, but most dignitaries had the manners not to stare as openly as Prince Holic. His lips twitched with a smile.
    “Her Majesty, Queen Fernanda of Ituria.”
    Holic’s attention snapped back to Mother as if it had never wandered. He made the appropriate responses, kissed Mother’s hand, and repeated the gestures for Lily and Gwen.
    Before Pol introduced the object of Holic’s interest, Melantha tiptoed in and quietly took her place between Hazel and her twin, grinning, no doubt, at having just made it in time. Or from the absurd pleasure she got from having the tallest, prettiest sister next to the shortest, most freckled one. Mother frowned, but Holic didn’t seem to notice the late entry.
    “Princess Hazel,” Holic said.
    Well, that was a first.
    Pol’s mouth froze in a surprised O . He’d never had an introduction usurped.
    Hazel’s eyes grew round, and her polite smile flattened.
    Mother’s face remained serene. Coming from a family with male heirs, Holic would be excused all manner of informalities.
    “Forgive me.” Holic pulled a paper from his pocket and smoothed out the creases. “I recognized you from your picture.” He turned the paper around and held it out to Hazel. She studied it, and then broke into the kind of smile she usually reserved for private moments. Dazzled, Holic smiled in return, shy, eager. Boyish, behind the stubbly beard.
    “What is it?” Mother leaned around Lily.
    Holic gave Mother the paper. It was a rough watercolor of Hazel, unmistakable with the yellow hair and the bold script proclaiming the subject’s name. The young artist had signed the masterpiece in the corner as Hazel had taught her.
    “She is improving, don’t you think?” Hazel said.
    “She has potential,” Mother agreed.
    “Where did you get this?” Hazel took the paper from Mother.
    Still under the