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.”
“And what year would that be?”
“Why, 1857, of course.”
TWELVE
“S
he’s waking.”
“My head hurts. What happened?” I murmured, groggily.
“You fainted, Mademoiselle,” the maid responded.
“I had the strangest dream.” I paused, recalling the details. “I was the Princess of Monaco. Isn’t that nuts?”
“You see,” she whispered, out of the corner of her mouth, eyes darting to someone standing on the other side of me.
“Yes, she’s had quite the trauma. She needs more rest.”
I twisted my shoulders and looked in the direction of the male voice just long enough to see a medicine dropper coming at me. The liquid forced into my mouth tasted like honey, and yet it was somehow bitter.
“No drugs.” I barely got the words out before the world went dark again.
Sleep was uneasy. I tossed and turned as snatches of the past week drifted before me like a film playing in reverse. I saw the cavern with its hypnotic glow. Then, the light changed, and it was streaming through the terrace doors of our beautiful French villa, illuminating my jewels in their rosewood box.
I groaned and twisted, blinking my eyes open and shut until they remained wide. Beautiful, warm rays of afternoon sun trickled into the quiet room. Shaking the dream away, I untangled myself from the quilts of my strange, new, canopy bed and opened the doors to the balcony. The sea looked peaceful and inviting—a beautiful day to be out on the water—if only I could find a phone and send for a cab. Of course, it would help to know where I was.
I stopped mid-thought, as my last encounter with the maid came rushing back. You are the Princess of Monaco! Oh my God, the painting—it looked just like me, just like my reflection.
I pushed my confusion aside. Could I have imagined the last twenty-four hours? Maybe I woke in this room earlier and created this elaborate hallucination. I was probably concussed after my fall from Marguerite Island.
Wandering the room, I felt along the wall for light switches but found only gas lamps and a few sconces. There was no phone either.
That’s because it’s 1857, you fool.
“No, no, no, no!” I mumbled to myself.
I hadn’t seen a phone anywhere in the palace, not even at the party. Usually, people texted or checked their cell phones no matter where they were, even if they had been playing a game.
I walked to the antique desk by the fireplace and pulled the first drawer open hard and fast, surprising myself as it hit the floor with a thud. A piece of wood went flying. Upon closer inspection, I realized I’d knocked a small compartment loose. Rubbing my fingers along the back, I discovered a panel that could be removed. A small, leather-bound book was hidden inside. Feeling a sense of dread, I turned the book over. The back read Princess Sapphira Grimaldi de Monaco. I flipped the book open at random.
22 July 1857
Charles has gone away once again to deal with the politics of our position within the Kingdom. Mother is busy with her Constitutions, and HE continues to torture me. I’ve heard rumors he is in league with charcoal society. They oppose my brother and I fear we have a traitor in our midst. With my father and brother gone, I am at his mercy. I fear he will kill me.
I breathed in sharply, flipping the next several pages of the book, but they spoke only of gossip and social events. Then I found one dated a week later.
Mother continues to dismiss my disgust at his inappropriate advances; I think she encourages him. He wants me for some political end which I have not yet figured out. I dislike the idea of opposing Mother but I refuse to accede to the will of that snake. I must marry and move away. I shall procure a love spell from the alchemist. It’s my only chance. If I remain then I am as good as
dead.
I tucked the book away, and lay down on the bed, wondering who she spoke of. It was time to face facts. Nick was not here.
If I was to believe the tall, thin maid with the pinched face, then I had somehow awoken in another time—and in another body, for that matter.
That was a pretty hard truth to swallow, but the evidence was all around me. And this Princess Sapphira was afraid of someone, but who?
I stood and returned to the sitting room door. That reminded me—where had my visitor gone? Had he really exited through this door and escaped somehow? My eyes scanned every inch. I walked inside the room to the armoire and opened it. There was no way out of here. What was I missing? Shivering, I rubbed my arms, realizing there was a draft coming from the far right of the wardrobe. I moved the dresses and pushed on the panel. It slid to the side.
I ran into the other room and grabbed a candle off the mantle. Quickly lighting it, I returned to the wardrobe and pushed it into the darkness, careful to keep the flame away from the dresses. There was a passageway of about three feet wide. Where did it lead to?
Leaning against the wardrobe frame, I thought of perhaps barricading it with something to prevent any further surprises.
“Sapphira!”
I slammed the doors shut, blowing the candle out as I spun. My heart pounded at the shrillness of her voice.
“What are you doing?” Alastríona asked.
Cold sweat broke all over my body.
I ignored her question. “Did you want something?”
She gave me a confused look.
“I’ve come to accompany ye to dinner. Why aren’t ye dressed? Where’s Anais?”
“How should I know?” I snarled. I had no idea who this Anais was.
“I’m here, mademoiselle,” a cheery voice answered, from the other room. Oh, that who.
The tall, thin maid with the pinched face bustled me out of and into garments in under half an hour which seemed like record-breaking time, especially given that she was under Alastríona’s scrutiny, or maybe that was the reason. As she primped my hair, Alastríona shifted her steely gaze back and forth between myself and the room where the wardrobe stood. Did she know about the tunnel? It sure seemed like it. I thought back to my encounter. Had it really been a man? Could it have been a woman?
“Fini,” Anais said, leading me to the mirror.
I turned away doing my best to keep the tears inside. The reflection was a reminder of everything that was wrong.
Alastríona tapped her foot rudely, so I pushed past her into the hall and headed for the ballroom where I’d heard her say dinner was being served tonight.
Maria sat at the head of the table like a Goddess on Mount Olympus. Beside her was the snooty and boring Comte de Chalais. Unfortunately, there I was on his other side. The Graf, Conrad who was the only interesting one at the table was far away. Boo! He spoke at length to the courtier on his left but I couldn’t hear what they discussed. Every now and then I would catch his eye, but we never spoke. The evening droned on with talk of politics, books and paintings, but no one asked my opinion and I certainly didn’t engage.
Maria at last stood up and the room fell silent. “My dear friends,” she began. Her smile recognized the whole table. “We are here, as you know to thank Graf Von Württemberg, who saved the life of my fair daughter. Please, raise your glasses.”
Not your daughter, I thought to myself, defiantly.
There was a series of clinks and praises and I took a large sip to settle my nerves.
“Now, Princess Sapphira shall honor our brave hero with a dance.”
The wine that was swimming in my mouth, dribbled down my chin as I coughed. All heads twisted in my direction.
“Sorry. I choked,” I murmured. “My apologies.”
Maria ignored my outburst and went on. “Please stand.”
Henri patted my thigh under the table, causing me to jump once again.
“Sapphira, are you quite all right?” Maria asked.
I faked a smile.
“Then please begin,” she instructed the musicians.
Conrad came for me. Panic made my legs shake.
“Don’t forget, I’m next,” Henri called out, waving a little booklet in the air. I had the urge to hit him with it.
Thoughts of tripping in front of all these people came to the forefront of my mind. As the musicians began a simple, slow song, I could feel the sweat gathering. Oh, how I miss you, deodorant.
“I don’t dance,” I whispered, which wasn’t entirely truthful because I loved dancing, but ballroom dancing wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence in my life.
“You’ll do fine,” he whispered back, gripping me tightly.
I looked down at my feet in panic, coincidentally stepping on his foot as if to prove my point. Oops!
“Just look at me and clear your head,” he whispered.
He was right. As long as I didn’t try to do anything, we flew gracefully around the room. I could have been standing on his toes for how easy he made it. I think, at one point, I might have been. By the end, I actually began to enjoy it, apart from the audience. Of course, that’s when the music stopped. Maria and the guests clapped and Conrad let me go.
With a curtsy and a nod, I excused myself. I needed a breather after an encounter like that.
I wandered down a hallway I’d seen people using and just as I rounded the corner, an older man with disheveled grey hair, a long white beard and thick glasses spun me about.
“Prinţesă, you never came. What happened?” His ancient round face carried more lines than a modern atlas. He pulled me off to the side. “Where is Francois?”
“Who—” I started to protest his grip when Alastríona appeared at the far end of the hall.
“Alchemist!” Alastríona shouted. “There ye are! Princess Maria requires more of the sleep tonic.”
His eyes shot back to me. “Send Francois and I’ll give you another.” Then he turned to the woman and strolled in her direction. “Is it working for her then? I really should speak with her before I give her more.”
I dug my fingernails into my palms, listening as the old man’s voice grew faint in the distance. What was that all about? I took a few steps forward and surveyed the ballroom. Conrad was busy speaking to a woman from dinner; Maria and Henri were otherwise occupied.
The grand entrance door, which normally boasted guards, had been left unattended. I was close now, so close, I could probably slip out without anyone noticing.
Heart beating wildly, I waited for any sound to clue me in that they noticed what I was doing, but there was none. I inched forward, sticking to the wall like trim.
The guards were probably standing outside, but what if they weren’t?
My heart drummed and my lungs heaved, but I pushed past the feelings as I ran across the open courtyard, farther and farther away. At last, I stopped at a stone wall that lined the perimeter of the cliff. Surrounded by green foliage, in the falling darkness, I kicked myself for taking off without thinking it through. The Mediterranean was far below, and I had no idea how to get down.
Where was I going, anyway? The Lérins Islands to find that spinning cavern? I’d need a boat for one thing. I sat on the wall, gasping for breath and looking for dots of light on the landscape. At last, I began to breathe more easily, which was not a simple task, given the corset. No one had noticed my departure. Or, maybe, they no longer cared.
I began to shiver. I’m not the Princess of Monaco. Time travel is not possible. I am in a coma because that stupid ahole Nick dropped me from a cliff and this is an elaborate dream. Nothing else makes sense.
A trembling started up inside, and I closed my eyes, fighting it. But I could not close my eyes to memory and I saw the diary in my mind. Saw the frantic script on the paper. Remembered the conversation behind the closed door. If this was real, then I was in trouble.
I have to keep going. I don’t know where but I have to get away from this poisonous palace. I rose an
d followed the wall four feet until I came to a path leading down through the trees. The overgrown pathway was made of stones. Weeds and branches shot up between the footholds.
The loud snap of a twig caused me to flinch in surprise.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
“Conrad? Oh shit!” I said, placing my hand over my chest.
“I apologize. I didn’t intend to frighten you.”
“It’s fine,” I said, trying to collect myself.
“I saw you leave the palace. I was promised another dance.”
“I know. Sorry.” I began walking down the path. “You seemed occupied with that chick from dinner.”
“Chick? Is that a Monégasque term?”
I shook my head. Shit! I’d need to control my slang. “I’m referring to the woman, of course, who was beside you at dinner?”
“Ah, so she’s a chick? Good to know. I’m always learning new words in your language. I cringed. “I was telling her of my home,” he said at last, walking beside me.
“Your home—where is that?”
“The Swabian Alb.”
“Like the Black Forest?” I said, recognizing the German territory and thinking of his title. The Graf Von Württemberg. This now made sense to me.
“You’ve been there?” he questioned.
“My mother’s family is from—” I was about to say Germany and then realized it may not be called that, “—that area,” I said, recovering.
He looked at me queerly. “My apologies. I thought they were French.”
Shit! My foot was permanently shoved in my mouth with this guy. “Hmm, about that,” I said, wondering how to recover.
“Where are you going? This is a cliff.”
“I don’t know. I’m just walking. I need air.”
“Could I interest you in returning? This path looks overgrown and most unsafe for the likes of a delicate flower such as yourself.”
I snorted. I’d been called a lot of things in life but never that.
“I’m beginning to recognize a pattern with you, Prinzessin. You are always fleeing.”
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 7