The Forgotten Sisters by Shannon Hale Page B

turn these girls into princesses.
    I am here, so I will keep trying to fulfill my duty.
    I miss you. I miss being able to turn to you when I have a thought to share, and you laugh or smile or add a thought in return, and I know that someone in this great big world understands me.
    Your Miri
    Written Winter Week Four
    Never received
    Dear Britta
,
    You may tell Katar and the chief delegate and whoever you please: at last I have a princess academy. It took a few months, a skinned swamp rat, three books, a great deal of cajoling and bartering, and one bandit attack—but do not worry about that part. I’ll explain when I see you again
.
    I have sent letters to you with every trader group, but we were being robbed by an unscrupulous tavern owner and the traders in his pay. He is banished, so you should get this one at last. Please send supplies. We are quite poor. And perhaps a couple of trusted guards? The sisters were completely alone. There is no immediate threat, but with Stora across the border in Eris sharpening their swords, I cannot feel safe
.
    Even though much has changed here, I find I have very little faith in the mail. Maybe you won’t get this letter any more than the others. So nothing I say matters, as I am probably just talking to myself. Ho hum, the moon is a plum
.
    Miri

Chapter Twelve
    Ho hum, the moon is a plum
    The sun is an iron kettle
    The stars on their spits drip juicy bits
    To sizzle on black sky metal
    Felissa was leaning against the windowsill, and the breeze from outside rustled her honey-brown hair. Since beginning the lessons on Poise, Miri had noticed a change in Felissa’s posture, a lengthening of her neck and a confident set of her shoulders. She did not seem to fit in the swamp anymore.
    â€œâ€˜â€¦ and when he clambered over the first hill, he saw it,’” Sus said, reading from the book of tales. “ ‘The house where no one wanted to live, bathed with silver moonlight. He ached with fear, yet—’”
    â€œTraders,” Felissa said, looking toward the village.
    â€œTraders!” Miri leaped to her feet. “We’ll have to finish that story later, Sus. Excellent reading.”
    Miri grabbed the letters she’d written and ran into the village. She kept slipping as she walked, eventuallyrealizing it was from trying to skip. She traced her feet’s inclination to skip back to a buoyancy in her belly, a raging hope in her chest, and up to the giddy idea in her brain that now that Jeffers was gone, she might get letters again!
    The traders were laying out their goods in front of what had been Jeffers’s house. Fat Hofer had informed Miri that Dogface ruled that roost now, but he tended to stay indoors during the heat of the day.
    The trading party was a small one from Greater Alva, not Gunnar and his crew, who sailed in once a month from Asland. Even these traders had hired guards now. One kept whistling. Not a tune really, more as if he were practicing a bird call. The sound pricked goose bumps on Miri’s arms.
    No Jeffers, standing over the trading like the lord of the manor. Just Fat Hofer, sitting. Lesser Alvans asked him to barter on their behalf and then gave him a handful of this or that in exchange.
    Fat Hofer was no longer slouching under his hat. Fat Hofer was smiling.
    Miri gave her letters to the trader with the leather knapsack with promises again that if sent on a ship to Asland and delivered to the royal palace, they could be traded for coins.
    â€œAnd here is a letter for you, Miri,” said the trader.
    Miri’s feet bounced under her. She had not received a personal letter since her first trade day months ago! She gave him a small coin as payment for delivery. The folded paper envelope looked weathered. If there had been a seal, it was long gone.
    Miri tucked the letter inside her shirt, keeping it silent against her beating heart.
    She waited until she was alone—after supper was set to cook and