Once Upon a Marigold Read Online Free Page A

crystals that made up his cave and were so common in this part of the forest that they could sometimes be found lying on the ground like ordinary rocks.
    He went to the mouth of the cave and looked out at the dwindling colors of the summer day. He was a lucky troll, and he knew it. None of his brothers had found as splendid a cave as he had, or had it as good as he did, or was on as promising a track toward the ODD Medal. He would soon be at the LEFT Conference listening to them complain about their lots. Ed sighed and went back to his letter writing.

    C HRISTIAN SAT on a rock by the top of a waterfall that ricocheted, in sparkling segments, off the boulders and into the river below. Directly opposite, far across the river, was the castle he never tired of watching. He'd seen how the beautiful golden-haired triplets had spent most of their time together in an extravaganza of pastel femininity while their little sister spent most of her time in solitary pursuits: reading, cultivating pots of flowering plants, playing with her three small dogs. It took him years to realize it, but he finally saw that, shortly after he'd come to live with Ed, people had quit touching the dark-haired sister—they even seemed to go out of their way to avoid it. Old King Swithbert was the only one who ever did touch her, patting her absentmindedly in passing, holding her arm for support as he took his slow constitutional back and forth across the terrace. If Christian had ever seen anybody in need of six hugs a day—or even one—that dark-haired princess was the one.
    He extended the telescope and focused it on the terrace. The princess sat alone in a plain wooden chair, reading. He tried to focus on the title, but she kept tilting the book to catch the failing light, so he couldn't see the cover. Her thick shining curls were caught untidily back in a silver cord, but she wore no jewelry. Her second-best everyday crown—he knew them all by now—hung on the back of the chair where she could grab it and clap it on her head if her mother, who seemed excessively concerned with her own and everyone else's wardrobes, appeared. He'd seen her do it dozens of times, and it always made him smile, the way she slung that emerald-studded thing around as if it were Ed's old woolen cap.
    Littered around her chair were dog toys, a cup and saucer, several books, a shawl, and a watering can. That homey mess made her seem like a regular person, and not a princess at all.
    The most royal he'd ever seen her was three years back, at her sisters' outdoor wedding. In her full regal regalia, she'd looked pretty spectacular to him—sparkling with diamonds, aflutter with lace and ribbons, squirming and scratching at her unaccustomed finery. He knew what that was like. He'd never forgotten that hot, irritating blue velvet suit. He was much more comfortable in the mismatched forest-found clothing that he wore now.
    Struck by a sudden thought, he rushed back to the cave, grabbed a piece of Ed's stationery, scrawled a few words on it, and woke Walter up from his perch. Walter squawked grouchily.
    "Hey," Ed said, "what's that all about? Walter needs his rest. He's got a lot of mail to deliver tomorrow." The metal cylinders that attached to the pigeons' legs were big enough for only a small slip of paper with three lines of writing, so Walter and Carrie had to make many trips to deliver all of Ed's missives, even if he wrote his tiniest.
    "He's not going far," Christian said. "Just one trip across the river." And he rushed out again.
    Well, Ed had been wondering when something like this would happen. He knew who Christian was watching through that telescope. He'd tried to be a good parent, emphasizing that honest toil was the route to success, insisting on regular brushing and flossing, teaching every single manner in the etiquette book, even though Christian would never need most of them—"Good day, Your Grace" was the way to greet a duke; the oyster