The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales Read Online Free

bunch?”
    It hurt too much to talk. She shook her head.
    Harold was too excited to pay attention. “Good. Here’s my idea. You’ve noticed how old and moldy this palace is?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œYou haven’t? Well, it is. The drawbridge creaks. The rooms are drafty. The cellars are full of rats. The place should be condemned.”
    She didn’t say anything. The palace looked fine to her.
    â€œSo I had a brainstorm. You didn’t know you were marrying a genius, did you?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œThis is brilliant. Listen. We’re going to build a new castle. That’s my idea. Picture it. Cream-colored stone. Marble everywhere. Hundreds of fountains. Taller towers than anybody ever heard of. Crocodiles and serpents in the moat. People will travel thousands of miles to see it. You’ll be famous, sweetheart.”
    â€œMe?”
    Harold caught the tiny ruby. “Yes, you. I can’t build a palace on current revenues. We need your voice. The kingdom needs you. So just make sure they land in the chests, will you, sugar?”
    She was silent.
    â€œI know. You’re wondering how you’ll ever think of things to say to fill fifteen chests. That’s why we’re in the library. All you have to do is read out loud. Here.” He pulled a book off a shelf. “This looks interesting. The History of the Monarchy in the Kingdom of Biddle. That’s us, love.” He put the book in her lap. “You can read about our family.”
    She didn’t open it. What could he do to her if she didn’t talk? He could throw her in a dungeon. She wouldn’t mind if he did. Bread and water would be better than wild boar. Then again, he could chop off her head, which would hurt her throat even more than it was hurting now.
    â€œI know you’re tired, darling. But after you fill these chests, you can take a vacation. You won’t have to say a word.” He got down on one knee. “Please, sweetheart. Pretty please.”
    He has his heart set on a new palace, Rosella thought. He’ll be miserable if he doesn’t get one, and it will be because of me. Rosella opened the book to the middle. I’m too kindhearted, she thought. She started reading, trying to speak around her sore throat. “The fourth son of King Beauregard the Hairy weighed seven pounds and eleven ounces at birth. He had a noodle-shaped birthmark on his left shoulder. He wailed for . . .”
    A stream of jewels fell into the chest. Harold tiptoed out of the room.
    Rosella went on reading. “The infant was named Durward. His first word, ‘More,’ proved him to be . . .” She was freezing. She looked up. The fire looked hot. “. . . proved him to be a true royal son. His tutors reported . . .” The room was spinning. “. . . reported that he excelled at archery, hunting . . .” What was wrong with this book? The letters were getting bigger and smaller. The lines of print were wavy. “. . . hunting, and milit—”
    Rosella fainted and fell off her chair.
    The Royal Manservant and Royal Maid rushed to the partly filled chest. They each grabbed a handful of jewels. Then the Royal Manservant ran to find Harold, while the Royal Maid used her apron to fan Rosella.
    â€œWake up, Your Highness. Please wake up,” she cried.

Nine
    T he fairy Ethelinda was appalled. This was the last straw. She had to do something.
    Harold was in the courtyard, practicing his swordplay. She materialized in front of him. She didn’t bother to disguise herself, hoping he’d be terrified when he saw the works—all seven feet three inches of her, her fleshy pink wings, the shimmer in the air around her, the purple light she was always bathed in, her flashing wand.
    â€œYou’re a fairy, right?” Harold said when he saw her. He didn’t seem frightened.
    â€œI am the fairy