The Princess Imposter by Vivian Vande Velde

Author:Vivian Vande Velde
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

The fairy family had no sooner finished eating when a visitor arrived in the kitchen, materializing from a puff of sparkly dust, accompanied by the sound of tiny silver bells. Her clothing—fuchsia and gold and frilly even by royal court standards—was much finer than what Gabriella had seen so far. If the dress and shoes had started as vegetation, their ancestry was skillfully disguised.

Any chance of getting anyone to cooperate in bringing their own dishes to the sink—much less cleaning them—vanished in squeals of “Aunt Sylvimit!” as the children clustered around the newcomer.

“Who is she?” Gabriella whispered to Parf, the only one who held back.

“Aunt Vimit,” Parf said. “Think vomit.”

“I will not,” Gabriella told him firmly. “I meant: your mother’s sister or your father’s?”

“Mumsy’s.”

This was not the answer Gabriella would have expected, now that she saw the coolness of the fairy women’s greeting, which was all quick air kisses and little more than air hugs.

Aunt Sylvimit was slightly more enthusiastic about greeting the children, though she did seem more anxious about her hair and clothing getting mussed than Gabriella felt a favorite aunt should be. Gabriella was just thinking that the children’s excitement might be for any change in routine, rather than for Sylvimit herself, when the fairy woman glanced in her direction.

“What,” she demanded, in a tone that would have been harsh even had she used the more socially acceptable who, “is this?”

“Gabby,” several of the children shouted, each trying to be the first—or the loudest, or the bounciest—to provide the information.

Gabriella inclined her head and curtseyed in polite greeting, holding out the skirt of her increasingly ragged and decreasingly white nightgown. “Princess Gabriella of—”

Before Gabriella could finish, Mumsy cut in, “She’s our changeling.” She seemed eager to provide even more details, starting, “There’s a long tradition—”

“Changeling?” Sylvimit took her own turn at interrupting. “Isn’t she rather old?” She said old as though the word hurt her mouth, in the same tone someone might say dirty. “And … ” Gabriella braced herself to once again be called big. “… bulky?”

Bulky? That was even worse than big. For someone who—until meeting the fairies—had most often been described as petite, the word stung. Gabriella resolved to think of the fairy woman as Vimit rather than Sylvimit from now on. She couldn’t bring herself to manage Vomit.

“Most irregular,” Vimit muttered disapprovingly. She cast a sour look over her nieces and nephews, clearly counting. She must not have been able to place who was missing. “Who’s she been changed for?”

“Phleg,” the chorus of eager young fairy voices informed her.

Vimit’s brows creased in concentration or criticism. “Renphlegena,” she corrected, snapping her wings in disapproval. “Your sister has a beautiful and distinguished name she shares with her beautiful and distinguished great-grandmother. It should not be shortened to something so … ” She sniffed—she actually sniffed. “… so … unattractive … and … unrefined.” These words, too, seemed to hurt her mouth. “I don’t know what’s the matter with this family of yours, Luna,” she told Mumsy.

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