Cursed be the Crown (Cruel Fortunes Book 1)

by RAE STAPLETON

  After twenty minutes of listening to the Comte de Chalais brag, I excused myself under the pretense of needing the lady’s room. This was my chance, I would get the Graf into a corner alone, so we could drop the act. I just had to find him.

  TEN

  T here was no doubt about it, I thought, as I turned down one of the corridors off the ballroom, only to get a hint of Alastríona’s shadowy form once again; this woman was either cockblocking me or tailing me. I’d been successfully dodging her for the last five minutes but now that I’d turned my focus to finding the Graf, I’d forgotten to stay off her radar. Of course, it would have been easier to outrun her, if I wasn’t gussied up like an evening gown Mattel doll. I spotted the Graf’s shiny, black hair at last. He was only a few feet away, but what were the chances Alastríona would intervene if I cornered him.

  “How charming you look tonight, Sapphira,” the Comte de Chalais interrupted, steering me away.

  Damn it! I didn’t see him coming. This night fell like a game of manhunt and so far, I was losing.

  “You will have some wine, won’t you?”

  His smile was smug and his gaze creepy as it drifted lazily over my body. I was in more clothing than ever and yet somehow, I felt more exposed. I nodded in acceptance although it was a redundant question. He’d already poured the wine in a crystal goblet—probably slipped a roofie in there too. Just my luck.

  “You are quite taken with him?” He commented as he handed the glass to me, following my gaze back to the Graf.

  I snorted. “Whatever. Where’s Nick?”

  “Nico? Why would you ask after him?”

  That was it. My tolerance level for these charades had been exceeded.

  “My apologies. I realize you and the Monarch of Malice are playing some sort of costume theatre here, which you take seriously but this is bordering kidnapping now. You’re holding me hostage and truth be told, I’m not happy that I was pulled into the game at all. I’d like to go back to that room you put me in until you’ve finished and then I want—”

  Alastríona signaled a guard, and before I could finish my rant, I was escorted back to the room I’d awoken in.

  “I don’t belong here,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. “I am not the princess.”

  Lisabetta took my hand gently in her own after she’d stripped me of my layers leaving me in nothing but a thin gown—probably so I wouldn’t try to flee.

  “Now, now. I’m sure it won’t be long at all and you’ll have your memory back.” When I looked ready to argue again, she held up her hands. “Oh, Your Highness,” she said. She clucked her tongue and gave me a look of pity. “You’ll be fine. I’ve seen to you since you were a child. You were resilient then and you’re resilient now.”

  “Yes, how can you be sure that I’m me? That I’m this girl you know and remember.” I asked, testing her.

  Ignoring me, she took my hand in her own. “Listen, I’ve no doubt of who you are. T’was a bump on the head that caused this grief. It’s got you rattled but if the good doctor says your memory will return, then it will.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll go make some tea to settle your nerves. Tomorrow, everything will be all the better. We’ll have a good ‘ole laugh about this. You’ll see,” she said, brightly and left the room.

  Yawning, I walked over to the window, my eyes searching once again for Nick. The adrenaline that had kicked in earlier had long since petered out, leaving me feeling like a kicked can.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  Nick, I thought. He’s finally found me. “Come in,” I said, turning as it opened. Henri, the bane of my existence sauntered in, holding a china cup.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, ma chère. I come bearing tea.” I looked at the cup in his hand, feeling awkward at his visit.

  “You seem to be having a difficult time recovering from the bump on the head.”

  I pulled a dressing gown that was nearby up over my shoulders.

  Setting the cup down, he turned and patted my hand. “Are you feeling any better?”

  I snorted. Frankly, I was a little miffed to be mocked so continuously.

  “Comte, is it?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Call me Henri.”

  “I don’t get the charade? I realize I bumped my head when I fell from Marguerite Island. I know I must have washed up on your shore, and you took me in. Believe me, I’m grateful, but I don’t get why you people refuse to call me by my correct name and why you won’t let me see Nick.”

  “You people?”

  “Have you even contacted the police?”

  Henri placed his hand on my forehead.

  “Maybe I should request that Alastríona return or summon the doctor back in.”

  “I’m serious. I don’t know if this Sapphira is a character in your play or a real person. I don’t know what happened to her, for that matter, but I’m not her. You are keeping me prisoner!”

  “Sapphira! The wine has most certainly gone to your head. Understandable after such a bump.”

  “Why don’t you believe me?” It was little more than a whisper. I pulled my robe tighter around me.

  “You must stop with this ruse,” he said, tilting my chin up. “It won’t fetch your brother any sooner, and it mars your character to appear so willful and spoiled.”

  Me? Willful and spoiled. Hmm. Somebody needed a mirror. Still, tears involuntarily flooded my eyes, not because his words shamed me but because I was so frustrated that this moron wouldn’t break character.

  “A good night’s sleep will help.”

  As he drew me in for a hug, I thought of kicking him and running for the door, but guards were located in almost every hall. Before I knew it, the moment was lost. He let me go and left.

  I stood stock-still, feeling the hair prickle on the back of my neck. Why were they keeping Nick and I apart?

  Why had I howled earlier when Nick pinched me, I’d obviously scared him off. I returned to the door I’d seen him exit hastily through.

  What if it hadn’t been Nick this morning? What if it had been Henri? It was pretty odd that he felt comfortable enough to visit my bedroom alone.

  Placing my hand on the door handle and pressing my lips together, I forced myself to breathe through my nose so my raspy breaths couldn’t be heard. Who or what was on the other side? My heart hammered, preparing me for the possible shock—flinging the door wide open. Much to my surprise, it was empty. What was this room used for and could I escape through it or would it be wiser to sit tight? Nick must have called the police by now; they would be looking for me, wouldn’t they? This room was colder than the other and I shivered, all the while casting about a critical eye. No light switch—only paneled walls. It was a good-size, with minimal furniture, a stone floor and an extravagant armoire that seemed heaven sent–maybe there were warmer pajamas or at least a sweater stowed away. Opening it, I saw a row of ball gowns fit to grace the courts of Versailles. Where were the jeans, and sundresses?

  As I fingered a richly embroidered gown, I shivered at the draft blowing in, and noted there was no zipper. Feeling the material between my thumb and forefinger, it occurred to me that none of them had zippers. Why would someone need authentic nineteenth-century dresses like these—and why so many, unless your whole life was a costume party?

  ELEVEN

  Y awning like a freshman in an early morning lecture, I counted down the chimes from the grandfather clock in the hallway. Ten chimes. Whatever peace of mind I’d had at learning Nick was here evaporated in that ballroom. The thought of being held prisoner in this cold, creepy room for all of eternity scared the hell out of me. I walked to the bed and lay down. Perhaps I would wake up and discover this was all a bad dream.

  Unfortunately, sleep wouldn’t come. It didn’t help that every so often there was a creak or the squeak of a door shutting. A few seconds before, I could have sworn I heard someone moving about the hallway, pausing just outside my door.

  This is just a game, I repeat
ed to myself. Everything will make sense in the morning. I am no prisoner. I closed my eyes, drifting off at last when I could have sworn someone coughed. Was Nick signaling me?

  Suddenly wide awake, I turned my head toward the door and listened. It was nothing. Just my overactive imagination or screwed-up mental state. Or both. Who knew anymore?

  Pale moonlight spilled in through the arched window, making the diamond panes glitter. Hearing nothing further, I slid from the bed but moved the pillow to look as if the bed were still occupied. Just in case I made it out and someone checked. I’d seen it in enough movies to know it couldn’t hurt to buy time. I then tiptoed across the room. The floor, icy under my bare feet made me miss my worn, grey slippers from home. Padding over to the fireplace, I grabbed the poker and prodded randomly at the glowing coals for several minutes. They scattered and dimmed slightly. So cold and hungry. The excitement of the night had prevented me from eating earlier. I stared at the ornately carved door to the left of me. If I could just slip downstairs and get something to eat, I’d feel so much better. My stomach growled as if to agree. With a sleepy yawn, I turned the knob and pulled it open.

  Crrrrreeeeeaaaaaaakkkkkkk.

  The sound set my body on edge. The night was still. The hallway beyond was lit up but empty. I took a hesitant step and my toes curled into the warmth of the carpet. Biting my lower lip, I stood just outside the door for a few minutes, listening for guards. It seemed I was in the clear; I shut the door behind me and made my way down the hall, behaving like an escaped mental patient—my head swiveling at the slightest noise. Despite the continual reminders to myself that old houses naturally made noise as they settled, and shrugging off the creepy feeling that was beginning to settle inside once again, I focused on the hallway ahead.

  “Prinzessin.”

  I froze. The dark voice was warm, like whisky. Faltering, I took a step back, my eyes locking on the large man I’d almost walked into.

  “Excuse me, I—”

  He’d been about to enter another doorway.

  “Conrad, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

  His eyebrows ticked up in surprise, most likely shocked that anyone could miss him. Fair enough.

  “I thought you’d retired for the night.”

  I swallowed and took another step backward. “I did… but I’m hungry.” It was all I could come up with and it was technically the truth. “You’re staying here?”

  “Your mother suggested I spend the night.”

  “My mother is dead,” I retorted.

  He ignored me, which I hated to admit I was getting used to. “I’m going hunting in the morning with Nico and the Comte, and I was invited to dinner again. I hope you’ll be present.”

  “Nico will be back by tomorrow morning, then? Have you seen him?”

  “Pardon?” Conrad said.

  “Never mind.” I closed my eyes, deciding whether or not to push him, but what choice did I have. “It’s complicated. I don’t belong here.”

  “You are serious?” His words trailed off, a mere whisper.

  He stepped closer, his eyes never breaking contact with mine. I licked my lips nervously, my hands mindlessly clenching and unclenching. Time seemed to stop. I was drawn to the green of his eyes. They seemed trustworthy.

  “Fine. I will tell you the truth. I came from the sea, through this magnetic light in the water—”

  “You’re a Nixe?” Conrad interrupted.

  “Of course not. Wait, what’s a Nixe?”

  “Like Lorelei; according to the legend, she sat on the rock at the Rhine and lured fishermen and boatmen to the dangers of the reefs.”

  “Oh, you mean like a mermaid or a siren? No, I’m not saying that at all. I mean I don’t think so. I don’t really know what to think anymore.”

  “Do you take me for a fool?”

  Wearily, I crossed my arms in front of my chest and forced my chin up. I felt like I’d been repeating myself since I’d woken up in this house.

  “This isn’t coming out right. Just tell me this: why did you think I belonged in this family?”

  “I apologize, Prinzessin. I am flummoxed by our conversations. I do not presently understand the language or perhaps it is your family I misunderstand. Is Maria your stepmother then?”

  “No. You understand my English. Please just answer my question. Why did you think I was the princess?”

  “I’ve met you before.”

  “You have. So, the princess is real then. Look closely. You’ll see I’m not really her.”

  “You’re ill?”

  “Conrad, don’t you get it. If this isn’t a game that everyone’s playing and you’ve met the princess then they’ve done something bad to her, and now they’re trying to replace her with me. “Oh, never mind,” I said, pushing past him, I rounded the corner at the end of the hall, running until I came to a staircase leading up.

  “Wait!” I heard him call after me. I strained my eyes, it was dark up there but I surged forward anyway, maybe there would be a back staircase that would lead me out or maybe I could find a phone… or Nick. He could be a prisoner, too. The idea chilled me.

  It was much darker up here; the only light in the hall came from up ahead.

  I hurried along the darkened corridor and, as I approached the light, I saw it was coming from underneath a door. Off in the distance I could hear a woman’s voice. Conrad had alerted someone to my departure. Would they search up here?

  I paused outside the door and shrunk into the doorway as much as I could. That’s when I heard the rumble of two male voices coming from behind it.

  “Does she recall what happened?”

  “It appears not. What did you do to her?”

  My pulse quickened at the words.

  “Nothing, I swear. I was only following her as you ordered, my Lord and she tripped and fell down the stairs. The Graf appeared before I could get to her.”

  “She’s probably playing one of her games in an attempt to seduce the man. Why must she be so disagreeable, Enzo? Just like her father. The witch tells me the girl now possesses the stone. Her brother delivered it to her in the form of a birthday gift. Can you believe that?”

  “That’s great news.”

  “No, it’s not!” he snapped. “That treasure-hunting bastard Ferris, double crossed us. He was supposed to give the stone to me so that I could possess it.”

  I stepped softly back from the door, turning to leave, why would anyone care about a stone?

  “But now you can just take it from her?”

  “Don’t you think I tried that. I snuck into her room but it wasn’t there.”

  “Where is it, then?”

  “You are most vexing. What do you think I’m trying to uncover, Enzo? She must have hidden it. She’s been disappearing into rooms and surfacing in others since she was small. Both her father and brother took her into their confidence.” My ears perked up. “If only one of us could convince her to retrieve it; imagine the damage we could do to this court.”

  “The witch has spoken greatly of its properties.”

  “Yes, she has. With it I shall be able to control minds, as well as time. The Prince was so oblivious, but I will not be. I must persuade the girl to trust me.”

  “It’s past time she had a husband, my Lord,” Enzo said. “Demand her hand. Husbands have ways of making their wives talk.”

  “True. Though her brother is the problem. I’ll have to deal with him as I dealt with his father.”

  A lump formed in my throat. Someone was now pacing, and I realized they might soon exit and catch me.

  I launched into action, silently turning and rushing back down the corridor to the hall below, fighting hysteria the entire time. What was going on around here?

  I froze for a moment, cursing myself for panicking. There were voices coming from either direction of the hall. It was too late to make it back to my room, I needed to hide. Three feet to the left of me was a large, wooden door that had been left open a crack.
I pulled it back enough to enter, then closed it softly behind me.

  “There you are,” A voice said.

  Damn it! It was the tall, thin maid with the pinched face.

  “Hey,” I said, panting. “What is the name of this island? Are we close to Marguerite?”

  “Island? I fear you’re not getting any better. I’m going to call Monsieur.”

  “No! Please, just listen—I fell into the sea at Marguerite Island and I know I’ve washed up somewhere else. I realize you could get in trouble but please tell me where I am.”

  “Monaco.”

  “Well, that makes sense.” Monaco’s not far from the island. I just need to find a phone.

  “I was informed you are hungry. Shall we go back to your room, Princess? I can bring you a tray….”

  “Why are you still calling me that? We both know I’m no princess.”

  “Pardon? You are the Princess of Monaco.”

  I stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “See for yourself,” she said, leading me away.

  Curious, I followed her into the adjoining room that appeared to be a library or study of some sort. Another lantern sat above yet another fireplace. Normally, when I was surrounded by books, I was in a state of bliss, but where was the electricity? My eyes darted upward above where the maid stood in front of a large, gilt-framed portrait.

  She came to my side, and my jaw dropped.

  At first glance it was as though I stood in front of that mirror again at the party. The woman in the painting could have been me—well, me as I looked right now.

  “You remember now, Mademoiselle? This was done at the first of the year.”