Princess of Athelia: An Unfinished Fairy Tales Novella Read Online Free

“Here—this is for you . . . I mean, when the baby is born.”
    Poppy protests that there’s no need to be so generous, but I place the parcel firmly in her lap. “Open it,” I command in a tone that sounds eerily like Edward’s. Only a few weeks in the palace, and his authoritative attitude is already rubbing off on me. I’d better watch myself, or I’ll turn into someone like Bianca.
    She unwraps the parcel and lifts out a delicate white baby dress suitable for a girl or a boy, a lacy nightcap, and a rattle.
    “This is so exquisite,” Poppy gushes. “Did you make the dress all by yourself, Kat?”
    “Yeah, I’m a genius with my needle . . . not. Of course I got someone to make it for me.”
    “No matter. When the baby is born, you will be his godmother.”
    Again I give her that fake, too-bright-to-be-sincere smile. By the time the baby is born, I will only have a few months left in Athelia.
    I decide to change the subject. There’s a book lying on the table—at first I wonder what kind of stories Poppy likes to read, but then at a closer glance I discover it is simply a notebook, the pages scribbled with numbers.
    “What have you been doing?” I indicate the notebook.
    Poppy rubs her forehead and grimaces. “I’ve been trying to keep accounts on our household budget. You know, with the baby coming and all, Jonathan said we must record all our expenses. But it’s dreadfully hard, Kat.”
    I remember Mom balancing our checkbook every month, her brow furrowed as she chews on a pencil and taps the buttons on the calculator. “Have you had trouble making the ends meet?”
    Poppy shakes her head. “We barely go out for meals and parties, and Papa’s offered to provide assistance whenever necessary. Jonathan would prefer not to rely on Papa too much, but he’s more willing to accept help since I am with child.” She puffs up her cheeks, looking frustrated. “It’s the numbers that are darned difficult to keep tabs on; they make my head spin.”
    If she doesn’t spend much, I wonder why she’s having difficulty with the numbers. “Can I have a look?”
    There’s always a mundane side to getting married , I think, as I run a finger down the column Poppy has drawn up. I have to learn an encyclopedia’s worth of royal etiquette and customs, while Poppy, whom I suppose you can call a middle-class housewife, has to deal with adding up the bills for milk, eggs, bacon, bread, sardines, and the like.
    “If a pound of sugar costs three shillings, then you’d spend nine shillings for three pounds, not eight.” I point out a spot where she made a mistake. “Also, see here. If the grocer gave you a 20 percent discount on a pot of strawberry jam, which costs five shillings, then you should have paid four shillings, not four and a half.”
    I draw a diagram to illustrate, and Poppy’s eyes widen. “And I even thanked him for giving me a big discount! Kat, is there anything you don’t know about?”
    I mumble something about reading too much.
    “I wish Papa had let me read more when I was a child,” Poppy says ruefully. “He used to say that trashy novels would corrupt my mind, and he limited my reading to guidebooks for young women.”
    Given the kind of education I had endured since arriving at Lady Bradshaw’s house, I can’t say I’m too surprised.
    The doorbell rings. The maid gets the door, and in comes a stocky young man and a lovely young woman with honey blond hair and baby blue eyes.
    “Jonathan!” Poppy exclaims, rising from her chair. “Look who’s come to visit us!”
    Mr. Davenport kisses the top of her head and makes her sit down. He gives me a warm, friendly smile and asks how I’m doing. Once, he had bowed to me when he accompanied Poppy to visit me in the palace, but I told—ordered—him to treat me as a friend. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this Royal Highness stuff.
    “Good morning, miss.” Elle starts to drop into a curtsy, but I stop her.
    “It’s Kat,” I