Princesses Don't Play Nice Read online

  Dawn was just kissing the horizon when they arrived at the house of hospitality. Or rather, Gwen amended in her head, where Cassie said that Isabel had said she remembered such a house being on an old map back at her temple in Nordiv. Nothing about the place looked remotely hospitable. In the pre-dawn light, everything was a uniform grey, but even so it was obvious that the old manor before them was naturally a shade of dark charcoal. One wing of the building appeared to be in the middle of a collapse, and half of the visible windows were broken.

  "What do you think?" she asked Selvi.

  "Gotta rest somewhere, take this stupid load off," Selvi replied. The barbarian had the former paladin strapped to the back of her saddle, and was none too happy about it. "Not like we got much sleep tonight, and the sky's lookin' like rain later today. A broken roof's better'n none at all."

  "There's a light on," Flora pointed out from atop Isabel's horse.

  So there was, by a side door that had most likely been a servants' entrance. The stables were in decent shape, and the horses were happy enough in them. A quiet, mousy young woman answered the door, and soon they were shown to a small room with sleeping pallets for them all. After such a night, none of them put up much protest as sleep took them.

  Uncle finished writing his notes for the next session. With all the girls already departed, he was free to pull out all of his resources without danger of tipping them off. He chuckled to himself as he leafed through a couple of handy source books. The next Sunday was going to be wicked.

  Unseen and unheard by any of the princesses, the mousy young woman locked the door to the guest room behind her and hurried up a narrow set of stairs. Only one room on the third floor was occupied, or even furnished with anything more than vague, sheet-covered outlines of chairs and tables. In this room, everything was in pristine condition, with nary a mote of dust to mar the surface of the table wax.

  With a curtsy, she made her report: "Guests, madam. Six. Tired. In the sleeping room."

  "Thank you, dear child." The room's sole occupant turned from her writing desk to stroke the girl's cheek, like a beloved pet. "The sun is almost upon us, so let them sleep the day away." Now a sharp grin showed upon delicate white skin. "They shall be more entertaining when well rested."

  To be continued in Princesses of the Pizza Parlor, episode 4: Grandmothers and Other Fearsome Encounters