Princess Power 2
The Charmingly Clever Cousin
By Suzanne Williams
Illustrated by Chuck Gonzales
To Mom and Dad,
with love from their #1 princess
Contents
1. Princess Fatima
2. Trouble
3. The Princesses Arrive
4. Prince Ahmed Departs
5. Yusuf Takes Charge
6. The Missing Food
7. The Thief
8. On the Trail
9. The Rescue
10. The Capture
11. A Journey
12. Back Again
About the Author and Illustrator
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
1
Princess Fatima
PRINCESS FATIMA SHIFTED IN HER CHAIR AND glanced longingly at her flying carpet leaning against the Royal Nursery wall. She’d give anything to be on her carpet right now, soaring over the countryside.
A soft cry drew her attention to the sleeping baby in her lap. Fatima studied her nephew’s bald head. It looked like a squashed pumpkin and was much too big for his body. Drool wet his chin. When he was awake, all Prince Hassim did was burp, spit up, and cry. Boring.
Fatima wondered what her friends—the princesses Lysandra, Elena, and Tansy—were doing right now. Two months had passed since they’d first met. Two l-o-n-g months. Whatever her princess friends were up to had to be a lot more exciting than this.
Fatima sighed. She didn’t really like babysitting, but she hadn’t wanted to refuse when her sister, Selime, had asked for her help. After all, Fatima didn’t get to see Selime very often. Even by flying carpet, it took two whole days to reach the palace where her sister and brother-in-law, Prince Ahmed, lived.
Rising carefully so as not to wake him, Fatima carried Hassim to his Royal Cradle. Laying the sleeping baby down, she tiptoed away. With any luck, maybe he’d nap for a couple of hours. Then she’d be free to do something fun for a change. Perhaps she could even get out of the palace for a while.
Fatima glanced at her carpet again. Would it be so wrong to take a quick flight into town and spend a few minutes wandering through the bazaar? She hadn’t flown anywhere in the past two weeks. She longed to run her fingers through the colorful silk scarves and sample the honeyed stuffed dates the merchants sold.
But even as Fatima thought about leaving, a stern voice echoed inside her head. It was Prince Ahmed’s voice, scolding her for nearly dropping baby Hassim when she had run with him down the hall last night. She’d only wanted to be in time to see the acrobats perform in the Grand Hall before dinner!
Later, when she came to Ahmed and Selime’s room to apologize, she’d overheard him talking with her sister. “Fatima is much too young and irresponsible to take care of Hassim,” he’d declared.
Hidden behind the door, Fatima had imagined the frown on his less-than-handsome face, with eyebrows that were too bushy and a nose that was somewhat pointed. Prince Ahmed was no Prince Charming—except, of course, to her sister.
“She’s twelve,” Selime had said. “That’s old enough.”
“For some girls, perhaps,” Ahmed had replied. “But Fatima is too impulsive. She does things without considering if her actions could be dangerous. Hassim could get hurt!”
“Babies are always getting hurt,” Selime had said calmly. “Why, just the other day, he grabbed at my tiara while I was holding him and scratched his little arm.”
Fatima felt a rush of gratitude toward her sister for sticking up for her. Honestly! Prince Ahmed was so overprotective. When it came to Hassim, he was fussier than a mother hen with her chicks. Instead of apologizing, Fatima had turned on her heels and gone back to her room.
Now, a knock on the Royal Nursery door made Fatima jump. She hurried to open it. “Shh,” she said to the kitchen maid standing outside. “Prince Hassim is asleep.”
The kitchen maid was a skinny girl with rosy cheeks. As she lowered her eyes and curtsied, her long, dark pigtail fell over one shoulder. “Pardon me, Princess. The Royal Chef sent me to ask what you’d like for lunch.”
A large helping of free time, Fatima almost said. Then an idea popped into her head. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Nar, Your Highness,” the girl replied.
“How old are you, Nar?”
“Fourteen.”
Fatima nodded. If she, at twelve, was old enough to watch a baby, surely a girl of fourteen was even better. Besides, it would only be for a short while.
A few minutes later Fatima sailed through the Royal Nursery window on her flying carpet, headed for the bazaar. Nar had been only too happy to watch Hassim. She’d sunk into a chair and put up her feet, obviously glad for a chance to rest.
The wind rippled through Fatima’s silk blouse and tossed her long hair as she skillfully guided her carpet toward town. Swooping over roofs and colorful lines of laundry that flapped in the breeze, Fatima inhaled the fresh, sweet air and relaxed. She could fly as easily as a fish could swim.
Just outside the tents of the bazaar, Fatima landed under a large palm tree. She rolled up her flying carpet, strapped it onto her back, and strode barefoot into the bazaar. It buzzed with the sounds of shouting merchants, haggling customers, squawking chickens, and bawling camels.
Pushing through crowds of turbaned men and perfumed women, Fatima made her way from one end of the bazaar to the other. Along the way she admired bolts of satin, carpets, and colorful silk scarves. It would’ve been even more fun if her friends had been with her. Together they might have stumbled upon an adventure, like when they’d found the frog prince in the marketplace near Lysandra’s castle.
Hungry because she hadn’t eaten lunch, Fatima bought some dates sweetened with honey and stuffed with almonds. They were delicious! Licking her fingers, she sighed with contentment. It was wonderful to escape from the palace. But Fatima supposed she’d better get back since she’d promised Nar she wouldn’t be gone long.
On her way out of the bazaar, a display of beautiful leather sandals caught Fatima’s eye. She didn’t usually wear shoes of any kind, but these sandals were fabulous! The leather bands were carved with intricate designs of birds and flowers.
“Go ahead. Try them on,” coaxed the merchant.
Fatima did. But choosing just the right pair, and getting the merchant to agree to a fair price, took a while longer than she’d expected. By the time she flew back to the palace, the sun was noticeably lower in the sky than when she’d left. Still, she couldn’t have been gone longer than a couple of hours. With any luck, baby Hassim would still be asleep, or just waking up.
In her hurry to get back, Fatima whooshed through the Royal Nursery window. Her carpet came to an abrupt halt, and she tumbled off. Jumping to her feet, Fatima turned around, hoping Nar hadn’t noticed her less-than-perfect landing.
But the kitchen maid had noticed. So had the Royal Chef and, worst of all, Prince Ahmed. Nar glanced away, tears running down her cheeks. The Royal Chef scratched his head in confusion. And Prince Ahmed? He scowled at Fatima, looking as angry as a spitting camel.
2
Trouble
“HOW COULD YOU!” YELLED PRINCE AHMED, his face bright red. “We trusted you to look after Hassim!”
Fatima’s eyes darted to Hassim’s cradle. It was empty! Her voice shook as she asked, “Where is he? Has he been kidnapped?”
“He’s with Selime in our room,” Prince Ahmed said more calmly. “The poor tyke. He was very upset when he woke up and you weren’t here.”
“Really?” Fatima hadn’t thought it would make any difference to Hassim who took care of him.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” Nar wailed. “I tried to comfort the babe—really I did. I don’t think he likes me. He wouldn’t stop crying. And when I put him up on my shoulder, he went stiff and started to scream. The whole palace heard him.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Fatima. Prince Hassim had probably only been suffering from gas and needed to have his tummy rubbed. “I shouldn’t have asked you to take my place.”
The Royal Chef waved his hands in the air. “And now dinner will be late! We have much to do in the kitchen.”
“Of course,” said Prince Ahmed. “I’m sorry for keeping you here so long. You may go.”
After they’d left, Ahmed turned back to Fatima. “I’d like an explanation for your behavior,” he said with a frown. “But I think Selime would like to hear it too.”
Fatima gulped. She could handle Ahmed’s anger, but she hated to disappoint her sister—or to think that something bad could’ve happened to little baby Hassim. Nevertheless, she followed Ahmed down the hall.
Selime was singing to Hassim in her beautiful voice as he lay gurgling in her lap. He seemed to have gotten over his fright quickly enough, thought Fatima.
Prince Ahmed sat beside Selime and tickled Hassim’s tummy. “How’s my sweet little baby waby?” he cooed. “How’s my little princey wincey?”
Fatima nearly gagged. Baby talk was so disgusting!
Selime swept back her wavy hair as she raised her head to look at Fatima. “Are you unhappy here?” she asked, a hurt look in her eyes.
“N-no,” said Fatima. “And I’m sorry about what happened, only…” She paused, not wanting to say that she’d been bored, in case she hurt her sister’s feelings even more.
Prince Ahmed frowned. “Only what?”
“Only…bats and bullfrogs!” she blurted. “Sometimes I just need to get out of the palace for a while!”
Prince Ahmed’s forehead wrinkled. “Please don’t curse. It’s not nice. You could have said you needed time off. You’re not exactly a prisoner here.”
“I know. But I’m supposed to be looking after Prince Hassim, and—”
“And you didn’t feel that you could ask for some time away from him,” finished Selime.
Fatima nodded miserably. Now her sister would know she didn’t find babysitting to be all that interesting.
But to her surprise, Selime said, “Being cooped up all day with a baby would be hard for any young girl. I expect you’d like the company of princesses your own age. How would you like to invite a few of your friends to visit?”
Fatima’s face brightened. “Could I? I mean, would it be all right?”
Selime smiled at her husband. “You wouldn’t mind, would you, dear? Fatima needs a break, and I can handle Hassim by myself for a while.”
“Well,” Prince Ahmed said slowly, “I suppose that would be all right. For a little while, anyway.”
“Yes!” shouted Fatima. Excited at the thought of seeing her friends, she hugged Selime. But to Ahmed she only said, “Thanks.”
3
The Princesses Arrive
SEVERAL DAYS LATER THE PRINCESSES ARRIVED. Fatima was watching for them and raced from her room to the front of the palace when their carriages rolled up.
“Wow! This place is beautiful!” exclaimed Tansy, giving Fatima a hug. At nine, Tansy was the youngest of Fatima’s friends. She had lots of freckles and ginger-colored hair.
“Yes, I suppose it is.” Fatima tried to see things as Tansy must see them—the smooth, polished marble of the palace walls, the ornate columns, the high, arched doorways. It was a nice place, especially when you could leave it from time to time.
“Hi, Fatima. Long time, no see!” Lysandra’s wavy blond hair sparkled as the sunlight streamed through the windows. She was ten, two years younger than Fatima. Fatima would always feel grateful to her for hosting the talent show auditions that had brought the four princesses together.
Fatima hugged Elena next. She was eleven, with soft, hazel eyes and frizzy brown hair. Together the four girls entered the Grand Hall, where Ahmed, Selime, and Hassim were waiting to meet them.
Fatima introduced her friends. Standing tall and looking graceful, Selime smiled at the princesses. “It’s good to meet you,” she said. “Fatima has told me a lot about you. I hope you’ll have a lovely time while you’re here.”
“Yes,” Prince Ahmed said stiffly. “But I hope you’ll try not to make too much noise while Hassim is napping.”
Fatima rolled her eyes, but the others didn’t seem offended.
Elena bent over baby Hassim. “He’s adorable.” Gurgling, Hassim reached out and grabbed a handful of Elena’s frizzy hair. She gently untangled the strands from his fist, not seeming to mind at all.
Lysandra let Hassim curl his tiny hand around one of her fingers. “What a cutie!” she exclaimed. “Maybe Gabriella will have a baby soon, and I’ll be an auntie too.” Gabriella was Lysandra’s older sister. She’d gotten married not long ago to Prince Jerome, the frog prince the girls had rescued from the marketplace. All four princesses had attended the wedding.
Adorable? thought Fatima. A cutie? Hadn’t they noticed Hassim’s bald, squashed-pumpkin head? Maybe Lysandra and Elena were just being nice; Tansy hadn’t paid much attention to him. But then Fatima remembered that Tansy had six brothers. She was probably tired of boys.
After lunch the girls went for a flying carpet ride. Fatima steered the carpet over the palace’s gleaming towers and lush gardens, and past a small lake. They skimmed above the striped tents of the bazaar, then circled the vast and windswept desert that lay beyond the boundaries of town.
“Traveling by carpet is the only way to go,” gushed Lysandra. “What a fantastic view!”
On their return, Fatima spied a splendid black stallion standing just outside the palace gates. As the carpet drew closer, she could see that the stallion’s saddle was covered in velvet and embroidered with gold thread. “I recognize that horse!” she cried. “Yusuf must’ve just arrived!”
“Who’s Yusuf?” asked Tansy.
“My brother-in-law’s cousin,” Fatima explained. “Only he’s not a bit like Ahmed. Yusuf’s charming and clever, and…well, I just know you’ll like him.”
Fatima guided the flying carpet over the palace gates and landed close to the front entrance. The princesses climbed off. Then Fatima hurriedly rolled up the carpet and led her friends into the palace.
She had expected to find Yusuf in the Grand Hall, sipping tea and telling stories, but he wasn’t there. Fatima frowned. “I wonder where he could be?”
“I bet your sister would know,” Elena suggested.
“Good idea,” said Fatima. “Let’s go find her.”
The girls started through the wing of the palace that led to Ahmed and Selime’s room. Tansy gaped at the silk tapestries that hung from the marble walls. “Ahmed and your sister must be very rich,” she said.
Fatima snorted. “All of Ahmed’s money comes from his father, King Murad. The king gave Ahmed this palace as a wedding present. Ahmed’s an only child. When King Murad dies, Ahmed will become king and inherit everything. Then he and Selime will be very wealthy.”
As the princesses neared Ahmed’s library, they heard voices. “Yusuf’s in here!” Fatima said excitedly. “Come on!”
Without bothering to knock, she pushed open the door. Yusuf, handsome as ever, looked up from the sofa where he sat beside Selime. His flashing, dark eyes lit up, and the corners of his mouth curled into a smile beneath an elegant mustache. “Fatima!” he exclaimed. “My favorite cousin-in-law! How’s the princess biz? Kiss any frogs yet?”
Fatima blushed. “Not yet.”
The other girls giggled. Yusuf winked at them. “And who might these beauties be?”
Fatima introduced her friends. Then she noticed how worried Ahmed and Selime looked. “Is something the matter?” she asked.
Staring into his lap, Ahmed said nothing.
But Selime sniffled into a lace han
dkerchief. “King Murad is ill. He may even be dying!”
4
Prince Ahmed Departs
FATIMA HUGGED HER SISTER. SHE KNEW Selime was very fond of her father-in-law. He shared her love of music, and they often sang duets together during visits.
Yusuf stopped smiling, and the joking tone left his voice. “That’s right,” he said gravely. “And I’m afraid I’m the bearer of the bad news.”
Looking up, Ahmed said, “Perhaps he’s not as ill as he thinks.”
Yusuf sighed. “How I wish that were true.”
Ahmed tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. He seemed to be thinking. “I know my father well,” he said finally. “If he gets even a small scratch on his hand, he thinks he’s at death’s door.”
Tansy nodded. “One of my brothers is like that. Every time Ethan coughs, he’s sure he’s coming down with the plague.”
Yusuf frowned at her. “I’m afraid it’s different this time,” he said to Ahmed. “The doctors say there’s nothing they can do for him.”
“Doctors can be wrong,” Elena said softly.
Ahmed nodded, but his face fell. “I must go to him. I hope there’s been a mistake, though. My father worries a lot, but he’s always been as healthy and strong as an ogre.”
Yusuf gave him a pitying look. “We can only pray that you’re right.”
“Amen,” murmured Lysandra.
Ahmed rose to his feet. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
“And I’ll go with you!” Yusuf declared.
“Thank you,” Ahmed said gratefully. “I’d welcome your company.”
Poor Ahmed, thought Fatima. She’d feel awful if her own father were dreadfully ill. She glanced at Selime, who was twisting her handkerchief nervously. Poor Ahmed and Selime.
The Charmingly Clever Cousin Page 1