But one dissenting voice was heard, and from the wistful, childish sound of it, Reuben guessed that it was the king’s youngest daughter who spoke. “But he is such a fine young man! Truly, it seems a shame he should die for our pleasure.”
But the other princesses mocked her. “Sister! You are too soft! Remember, his blood is not on our hands, but on those of the king, our father.”
Their voices moved away, and Reuben heard a great rustling of dresses and good-natured squabbling over the looking glass as the princesses decked themselves in their finery and prepared for their frolics.