Her Royal Highness by Rachel Hawkins

Author:Rachel Hawkins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2019-05-06T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

“Deer,” I say through numb lips. “That’s what you meant. Deer.”

Because that’s what’s behind me. A massive deer with a bunch of very pointy antlers, looking right at me.

Look, I am no stranger to wildlife. I am a Texas Girl, after all. I’ve had a rattlesnake slither across my path on a walk before, my grandfather once pointed out a coyote on the edge of his property, and I have seen more armadillos than any girl ever should.

But it’s the size of this thing that has my heart pounding and my mouth dry with fear.

“It’s not a deer,” Flora says, “it’s a stag.”

“Not really hung up on appropriate nomenclature right now,” I reply, my lips barely moving. “Mostly interested in not getting impaled.”

The stag huffs out a breath, and I tense up.

Then Flora moves into my peripheral vision, one hand outstretched.

“What are you doing?” I ask, which is hard because again, lips numb at this point with the terror and all.

“The stag is the national animal of Scotland,” she tells me, moving forward very slowly, never taking her eyes off the animal in front of us. “And since I’m a princess . . .”

If I weren’t so busy trying to will a wild animal not to kill me, I’d make a face at her. “What?” I ask. “You think this thing respects rank? Have you completely—”

“Shhhh!” she murmurs, still approaching the stag, which, I have to admit, isn’t moving and is just kind of watching her.

“There’s a reason this sort of thing happens in fairy tales,” Flora goes on, and I can see a smile start to spread across her face. “The beast clearly knows that he and I are connected by our love of this land.”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say. I’m dumber for having heard it.”

Flora waves her free hand at me. Her sunglasses are on top of her head now, those whisky-colored eyes narrowed as she approaches the stag. “It’s working, though, isn’t it?”

It is, I guess. The stag stays still, no more huffing breaths, and Flora straightens up a little. “There,” she says, smug. “Now all we have to do—”

Without warning, the stag charges, and Flora and I both scream, stumbling backward. She pinwheels into my arms, I clutch at her, and the next few seconds are a blur of falling, the smell of a big animal, and then, the sudden cold as we tumble into the river.

The cold is so shocking it punches my breath right out of me, and my brain does a mad scramble of panic between giant deer! and antlers! And omgomgsocoldsocoldalsowetwhywhywhy, and DROWNING!

Except . . . not drowning.

I put my feet down and realize that where we landed in the water is only just over my knees. My whole body is wet, though, hair included, and when I look over, Flora is sitting in the shallower water by the bank, her knees up, hair a wet, bedraggled mess over her face, sunglasses hanging crookedly from one ear.

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