Page 2 of Lost Starlight
Yes. I was asked to be here. It is an easy task. I’ll just be reading. I love reading.Biting my lip, I raised my fist again, touching the door lightly, using my book held up against my stomach as my comfort-shield. Unfortunately, the knock was a mere tap. I hated the way it sounded, and I hated my weakness. My timidity, also, regularly irritatedmy mother, as did everything else I did, but I never wanted to be a bother. I desired to stay in my place and not make a fuss. Any fuss, and my mother would shout—I did not like shouting, I always got a slight headache when she shouted. I stepped closer to the door and knocked again with more force.
“That was a good knock. Do you think they will answer?” a deep voice spoke from behind me.
“Ah!” I shouted, holding my book up to cover my face as I spun around and pushed my back up against the door.
“Oh, sorry to startle you. I understand that royals can be very intimidating, but I assure you, the Prince is as easy going as any royal can be—even more so, really.”
“I–I–the Prince?” I stammered, wanting to see who it was there before me, and yet too terrified to have it confirmed that I should not have been covering my face like a child in front of the person who spoke.
Too late for that, I thought
“Here, put the book down. I can help,” the voice said, calmly.
I slowly lowered my book. My cheeks were so warm that I must have looked like I had a fever.
I know who this man is. Why is he here?I had seen him countless times, as every noble had. With his wavy brown hair, light brown eyes, carefree smile, and confident stance, it was none other than Prince Peter of Walden. Remembering myself and my manners, I dipped into acurtsy. The book I had used to block my face was quickly tucked back under my arm and at my side, once more.
“Oh, no need for that,” Prince Peter said as I looked up at him.
I straightened my posture.
“You are welcome here. Come on in,” he said as he walked to the door and then opened it, motioning for me to go ahead of him, and I did so, silently.Maybe he was there to see his mother and would be leaving shortly.
Once we entered the large room, I noticed a lady near a window who nodded toward Prince Peter. She was not the Queen. She was simply doing needlework.
What is going on?
“You must be Lady Gwendolyn Darling,” the prince stated, and I looked from the older woman, down to my skirts for some strength.
I finally raised my eyes to meet the prince's squinting gaze.
This is fine. You can do this. He is the prince, yes, but you can do this.
His lips were pursed together as if he was holding in a smile.
He must think I am daft.
Wonderful, I thought. That was just what I needed.
I stood up tall, shoulders back and neck arched, just the way my mother had taught me. I placed a pleasant expression upon my face.
“Yes, I am. And I apologize to Your Highness. I am nervous.”
“I do not bite, I assure you,” Prince Peter said with a smile, walking over to a settee and reclining upon it, his arms tucked under his head. “You are, from what I hear, a marvelous storyteller?”
Why is he lying down?I wondered.
“I read to the children at the orphanage and the school, sometimes. I enjoy reading.”
“I do not like to read because it is hard for me to focus on the words. Yet, somehow, when things are read to me, I can visualize them in my mind, and I become entranced—it’s as if I am the protagonist, going on the adventures myself.”
“So I shall be reading toyouthen?” I asked.
Prince Peter sat up and motioned for me to sit in a chair a few feet away from the blue plush settee where he lay. “Yes, I am in great need of a storyteller. Please, Lady Darling, make yourself comfortable.”
So–I will be reading to the prince.
I turned from him to look behind me toward the older woman, focused on her work.
