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ENTWINED BY HEATHER DIXON PDF

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Entwined by Heather Dixon Wallwork Wither by Lauren DeStefano Unearthly by Cynthia Hand Across the Universe by Beth Revis Darkest Mercy by Melissa. Book "Entwined by Heather Dixon" description: Come and mend your broken hearts here. In this retelling of the classic tale "The Twelve. Entwined may refer to. Entwined (novel), a fairytale fantasy novel by Heather Dixon Print/export. Create a book · Download as PDF · Printable version.

He sends his regrets, said Fairweller, and admonishes you to tend to the guests. He wishes to remain with your mother.

Your doctor did not seem concerned. Azalea pushed the image of white lips out of her mind. Why did the King have to ask Fairweller to take his place? But, heavens! Azalea remembered their former Prime Minister, a Lord Bradford. Though the same age as the King himself, he had died when she was little. He was an agreeable gentleman who smelled of soap and coffee and always had a hint of a smile and a light in his eyes. Fairweller, by contrast, was a thundercloud.

He never smiled. The only color he wore was black, even his waistcoat and cufflinks, giving the impression of a sleek, overlarge spider. Or this ball will be completely ruined. The musicians began, the chattering hushed, and Azalea stepped off in waltz time with Fairweller. To her surprise, he was a masterful dancer. He swept her along the dance floor, guiding her about the corners and between skirts, flowing perfectly with the music. In fact, the only thing wrong with dancing with Fairweller was…well, dancing with Fairweller.

The waltz ended, the Prime Minister escorted her to the edge of the ballroom, and Azalea was flocked with gentlemen all asking for a dance. The lively music, the decorations, the snow whorling past the windows and reflected in the mirrors on the other side, and the dancing transformed the ballroom into something almost magical.

Azalea nearly forgot, as she danced the jigs, promenades, and waltzes, that the ballroom was old and drafty and the windows leaked when it rained. She grinned inside every time a gentleman took her into dance position and his eyebrows rose, and rose even farther as he would lead her about the ballroom. They swept past ladies in chiffon and lace, their hoopskirts swaying with her breeze. She danced lightly, followed at even the slightest of touches, had a firm frame and strong form, and never forgot a step.

Azalea returned the compliment with a sleek, deep curtsy that made her green skirts swath the floor in a silky puddle, and giggled inside when their mouths dropped. One day, she was determined, she would be quite as graceful as Mother. She glided. Peals rumbled the floor as the tower chimed ten, and the guests began a bouncy polka.

Azalea, who did not like the hard, breathless dance, slipped past the blur of dancers to the corner where the glimmering Christmas trees stood, hoping to spend a few moments out of sight. The ball had gone perfectly so far. If only Mother and her sisters were here, it would complete everything. Azalea considered nipping upstairs to check on them. She imagined the girls, caged up in their room, music drifting through the floor.

They would be sitting at the round table, staring at the picture pieces with glazed eyes. Azalea sighed. She poked one of the ornaments on the ribbon-and-silver decked tree. The ornaments clinked. A hand shot out from the boughs, a handkerchief between its fingers. Azalea leaped back. Great scott! The handkerchief had sloppily embroidered letters in the corner. Behind branches dripping with silver-and-glass ornaments, a pair of yellow-green eyes winked at Azalea.

Azalea bit back a delighted cry. The trees, arranged around the corner of the ballroom, had left an empty pie-bit sort of space, now filled with sisters. All ten of them crowded about together on the floor, hidden, pressed between the trees and the wall. Bramble grinned, her thin lips turning up into a wry smile. Azalea peered through the branches. Clover cradled both Jessamine and Kale, who slept soundly. Eve pressed next to her, clutching a book. A pine branch was in her face.

Azalea cast a glance back at the blur of guests, still engrossed in their dance. Next time the King will have to rethink his wording. She took a step away from the Christmas trees, feeling as though a hand wrung her stomach. Since parliament will choose the next king, she—. Ornaments tinkled. Bramble turned back to Azalea, and her wry grin reappeared. Our Great Christmas Tree Scandal took a lot of time.

Oh, yes! She filled her plate with every sort of sweet—candied raspberries, rosemary tarts, iced walnuts, sticky sweet rolls—things they had only once a year, since parliament funded the Yuletide ball and could afford it. Their own rather poor household lived on porridge and potatoes.

Back at the trees, as the polka wound to an end and a mazurka began, Azalea leaned down, as though to inspect her worn slippers, and shoved the plate beneath the branches.

Several pairs of eager hands pulled it in, and the trees burst into delighted squeals. Every fifth dance or so, careful to fill the plate during quick, breath-stealing jigs so as not to be noticed, Azalea delivered goodies to the girls.

They cheered in tiny voices each time. While couples danced the varsovienne, Azalea stacked her platter with ten dainty glass bowls of pudding, a special request from the girls. The spoons and crystal clinked against the plate, piled like a castle.

Azalea picked her way carefully to the trees—. Azalea overbalanced with the puddings, and the top little bowl slid off the rest. His eyes took her in, her auburn ringlets and silk dress, and stopped on the plate stacked with puddings. Each one had a wallop of cream on the top. Azalea, face hot, lifted her chin at him and coldly stared him down, daring him to say anything. He opened his mouth, then shut it. Then slowly, as though afraid she would strike, he cautiously set the pudding bowl back on the top with a crystal clink , and backed away.

And now she saw why he was hiding between the trees and the drapery. He was terribly disheveled! A strand of his mussed hair, the indiscriminate color between dark blond and brown, hung in his eyes. A streak of mud smeared his cheekbone and his fine black suit, and blood and dirt colored the handkerchief he now returned to pressing against his hand.

Hush, she said, taking his hand and dabbing at the cut on his knuckle. What were you thinking, using such a soiled handkerchief? His large hand dwarfed her own, and she only just managed to wrap the handkerchief about it.

My horse slipped on the way here, he explained. His voice reminded Azalea of rich, thick cream, the sort one could add to any recipe to make it taste better. The Courtroad bridge. I only just arrived. Azalea nodded, thinking of how the King avoided that icy bridge every winter.

Expertly, she tied the ends of the handkerchief in a tight, dainty knot. The gentleman touched it. You need a proper bandage on it, or it will get infected and throb every time you turn a lady into the next step.

Azalea looked up at him again, this time past the mud and rumpled cravat and hair. Something about him was strikingly familiar. The way he stood; his solemn, gentle temperament. He had a long nose, but it was his eyes, warm and brown, that marked his features. Everyone in her family had blue or green eyes.

The brown caught her off guard and fascinated her. Azalea kicked back into the boughs behind her, silencing the susurrus with a clink of ornaments. The gentleman smiled again and touched the corner of his bandage handkerchief across the embroidered letters B. Ages ago, he said. When we were both younger. Very much like, he said.

Entwined book by Heather Dixon online

And Azalea caught the spark of light in his eyes, twinkling through his solemn expression. It made her smile. No wonder he looked so familiar!

She considered him and wondered if he knew that all of Eathesbury expected him to run for P.

He stopped abruptly, clamping his mouth shut. His eyes stared straight ahead. Ornaments tinkled behind them, and Azalea looked down to see a pudgy little hand reaching out from beneath the tree, grabbing at his trouser ankle. Azalea cringed. Not there, Ivy, you great idiot, came a whispered voice from among the boughs. The hands peeking from between the tree skirts felt around, grabbed the ends of the platter, and slowly, with clinks and clatters, dragged the plate in.

Squeals echoed from the trees.

Azalea and Lord Bradford quickly stepped apart to see Lady Caversham a pace away, her eyes wide with innocence. Lady Caversham reminded Azalea of one of the dolls in the shops on Silver Street: Azalea forced a smile.

See a Problem?

Lady Caversham strode forward, the wispy flounces of her skirts fluttering behind her, trying to peer through the branches. There was something—oh!

There it was again! Lady Caversham, said Lord Bradford, stepping in front of her. He offered his hand and bowed. If I may have the honor of this next dance?

She cast a glance at Azalea, and a slight smile crossed her perfect face. The ball wound down like a music box, the guests leaving as the hours grew late. Near midnight, when Azalea delivered yet another plate of goodies to the girls, she rolled a Christmas apple underneath the trees, and it rolled back out. They had fallen asleep. She had hoped to be asked it by Lord Bradford, but he had left, and instead she stood in dance position with a young, rather moist gentleman named Mr.

The rest of the guests moved in a ring to watch as she and Mr. Penbrook took the ends of a long sash. Fairweller did not answer. He took a poker from the fireplace stand and used it to unlatch the high cords that held the drapery up in arches. The fabric rippled to the floor, masking the frosted windows. Oh, ho, said an older parliament gentleman.

Ho, ho! Have you looked in the chandeliers? Do you need us to find them? They nearly froze to death last year. Fairweller strode to the next window and unlatched the cords there as well. If you please. Something hardened in them—something Azalea could not read—and it staggered her. She dropped the end of the sash.

Oh, she said. Then, to the guests, Th-thank you all for coming. This brought chuckles and a smattering of applause. While Fairweller continued to drape the windows along the wall, Azalea saw each guest to the door, helped the musicians pack up their instruments, and wished everyone a good holiday as they left.

Another debacle. The King would be cross again this year, which meant meals in their bedroom and no dance lessons for at least a week. Worn out, Azalea led Fairweller to the trees. He pushed a tree aside, the stand scraping the marble, and revealed the girls. They slept, snuggled together like a nest of swans, empty pudding bowls and spoons strewn about them.

They used tree skirts as blankets, and looked angelic.

Entwined Summary & Study Guide

Nothing like they normally did. This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue? Upload Sign In Join. Save For Later. Create a List. Entwined by Heather Dixon. Summary Come and mend your broken hearts here. Read on the Scribd mobile app Download the free Scribd mobile app to read anytime, anywhere.

HarperCollins Released: Mar 29, ISBN: Book Preview Entwined - Heather Dixon. The girls had pelted him with snowballs. Pudding, said Azalea. Azalea paused, the needles pricking her palms.

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She does? The King is all right with it? She was asleep. Azalea snapped. Why, you little— Mother stirred. Where are the girls? I wanted to see them, too. Everyone says I look like you, said Azalea shyly.

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You lucky thing! Do a Schleswig curtsy. Yes, I remember. Azalea stood and smoothed her skirts. I wish you could come, she said. Your father will be there.

Azalea did, a little surprised. Her skirts poofed about her. Azalea gasped. Is something wrong? Promise me. Of…course, said Azalea. You know I will. Mother— I want you to keep the handkerchief, said Mother. Her lips, white from pressing against Azalea, slowly turned to red again. Good luck, she said. Yes, sir, I know— Rule number eight, section one, Miss Azalea.

Sir— The King looked up. He had a way of frowning that froze the air and made it crack like ice. Azalea gritted her teeth. Sir, said Azalea. The King set his papers down at this.

You made them promise to stay inside? Even Bramble? Even Mother— Tradition be hanged, Miss Azalea. The King turned to go, and Azalea spoke after him. The princesses feel suffocated by all the restrictions, especially the one on dancing, which was their favorite pastime. The King goes off to war right after the funeral, leading the girls to wonder if he even loves them.

Months later, Azalea discovers a D'Eathe mark, a remnant of when the kingdom was ruled by the insane High King of D'Eathe, which can reveal secret rooms and passageways when rubbed with something silver, in the girls' bedroom. She rubs the handkerchief on it, revealing a passage with a staircase leading downwards. She wakes the other girls and they all descend. At the bottom they find a forest of silver trees and a pavilion full of enchanted dancers. They interrupt the party and the dancers disappear.

The owner of the pavilion introduces himself as the Keeper, and explains he was part of the legendary High King's court, but rebelled and was trapped within the castle as punishment.

He allows the princesses to dance to their hearts' content, and invites them to return every night until mourning is over. Every night the girls dance so much that they wear through their slippers. They're often tired in the morning and late to lessons and breakfast, and constantly stitching up their tattered shoes. When the King returns from war he discovers the girls have been dancing at night, although he doesn't know where. Remembering the Queen's handkerchief and how magical it felt, Azalea makes her sisters all promise on it to never tell anyone about the pavilion.

With no other choice, the King allows the girls to continue dancing, provided they don't speak about it in front of him.

One night, the Keeper tells the princesses a story about the High King drinking a goblet of blood and swearing an oath on it to not die until he's killed the Captain General. In the morning Azalea realizes that their watch is missing and goes back to retrieve it. Keeper reveals he's been stealing from them, and refuses to give their things back until they find the magic object that's keeping him confined within the walls of the castle.

Azalea suspects the castle's magic sugar teeth, which have been around since The High King was alive. The princesses start a castle-wide hunt for them, which proves fruitless.

Meanwhile, the King puts an advertisement in the newspaper inviting gentlemen to stay at the castle for two days to try and solve the riddle of where the princesses dance at night.

The girls are furious, but quickly realize it's only an attempt to skirt around mourning rules and get them meeting potential suitors. All of which prove to be stuck up, boring, or obnoxious. Keeper once again steals from the girls, this time their mother's brooch. Azalea storms down to the pavilion upon discovering this, and tells him they're never going to come again, having realized Keeper is not as charming as he first appeared.

The exit is magically blocked and the pavilion erupts into a wild and violent masquerade ball. As Azalea is being thrown about she sees the soul of her dead mother, leading her to realize Keeper is the High King. He tells her that he'll only release her mother if she finds the object trapping him, and then produces the sugar teeth.

Azalea decides not to tell her sisters, suspecting Keeper can spy on them somehow. Azalea Kathryn Wentworth: Azalea is the main protagonist of the book and the eldest of the twelve sisters, at sixteen, and the Princess Royale.

As eldest, she steps into the role as leader and surrogate-parent to the girls after their mother dies. She is fiercely protective of her family and naturally takes on responsibility. She's a talented dancer and loves dancing the most out of all of them, frequently using it as a way to make herself feel better.

As Princess Royale, she's resigned to having an arranged marriage, since her choice is limited by the approval of both her father and parliament.

Over the course of the book she falls in love with Lord Bradford, whom she meets at the royal Yuletide ball, and eventually proposes to. She has auburn hair and green eyes, looking quite like her mother. Bramble E. Bramble is sly, fiery, and the most rebellious of the group, as well as frequently being childish.

Out of all the girls she reacts harshest to the King's actions, declaring that she hates him after he leaves for the war and taking the longest to forgive him. She falls in love with Lord Teddie, although it takes her a long time to admit this, as he's not the sort she would expect to fall for and she resents him for supposedly "stealing" her mother's portrait.

She has dark red hair and yellow-green eyes, and is fifteen at the start of the book. According to Azalea, Bramble is the best at doing curtsies out of all of the girls. Clover Wentworth: Clover is shyest of all the sisters, as well as the kindest and most thoughtful. She's frequently nervous and stutters a lot.

She's considered the prettiest of all the princesses, and looks older than her age, meaning she receives a lot of attention from gentlemen wishing to court her. It's revealed she's harboured a secret crush on Fairweller for years, which is eventually reciprocated.

As Fairweller secretly begins to court her, she grows stronger and more confident and begins to stutter less. Although initially the King doesn't approve his first reaction is to punch Fairweller , he eventually agrees to the marriage and allows the Prime Minister to keep his place in parliament.

Clover is described as being blonde with blue eyes. She's fourteen at the start of the book, though she turns fifteen later in the story. Delphinium Wentworth: At twelve, Delphinium thinks she's all-knowing, but her "wise" comments often make her look shallow and foolish. She has a tendency for drama and pretends to faint a lot, as well as being a hopeless romantic.

Like Clover, she has blue eyes and blonde hair. Evening Primrose Wentworth: Eve is an eleven-year-old bookworm. She has dark hair, blue eyes, and wears spectacles. Flora Wentworth: The older and more outgoing of the twins. She's nine years old and looks identical to Goldenrod, having blue eyes and light brown hair that's usually worn in a braid.

Goldenrod Wentworth: Flora's identical twin, nine years old. The twins are described as being like sparrows, timid and eager at the same time.Some weeks she felt better, better enough to take tea in the gardens with Azalea and her sisters and give them dance lessons, and some weeks-more weeks, lately-the light in her eyes flickered with pain.

She has a tendency for drama and pretends to faint a lot, as well as being a hopeless romantic. However, this author manages to take a rather thin story about And this year, she was in charge of the ball, as Mother was too ill to host.

The ball had gone perfectly so far. Ivy is famous for having an extremely large appetite. This was just my kind of book. Where are the girls?

DOTTY from South Dakota
I relish inwardly . Feel free to read my other posts. I have always been a very creative person and find it relaxing to indulge in bucketball.