Over the months of the king’s decline, I saw less of Alexander as he began taking over the duties that the king was no longer able to attend to. About a week before his mind cut off from the world and two weeks before he left it forever, the king took my hand in his and studied me for a long, almost uncomfortable, while.
“My son is luckier than he will ever know,” he finally said. “You’re a different kind of woman than my wife was. I loved her dearly, but love can blind any of us.” He smiled sadly and patted my hand. Something strongly resembling regret flitted across his face. “You’ll make a fine queen. And my son will be a worthy king because of it.”
I nodded to show my agreement, because I didn’t have anything else to say in the face of such a sincere, yet odd statement. The few times he’d spoken about his wife, it seemed to be with respect, yet now his tone was saying it was a good thing, no, a very good thing, that I wasn’t anything like her.
Perhaps the rumors were true? Perhaps she really had been the voice of the kingdom, wresting power with magic and wielding it to her gain? The prince admitted that his father had changed since his mother died, but if this was the man he really was, then perhaps he really had been blinded, willing to give in to his wife despite the good of the kingdom.
Perhaps he’d also seen the poor of his city and ignored them. Perhaps the queen had created them.
The king patted my hand again. “And so kind,” he said, surely continuing a private thought out loud because it certainly didn’t fit the conversation. “Almost too kind.”
I didn’t know then what he spoke of, but with the years I’ve figured it out. The king may have been blind to the kind of woman his wife was, but his eyes were wide open in regard to his son and me. He knew, much better than I, what kind of man the prince was. He knew what kind of poison ran in his veins.
Although we knew it was coming, the king’s death had a sobering effect on all of us at the palace. Death usually has a way of making people take a step back from life, its finality a push to make us stop and wonder about our own ends. Black ribbons adorned the hats and arms of men and the dresses of women. Black banners were raised from the ramparts, and Javotte admitted that a sadness had seeped into the surrounding areas as well.
However, mourning could not go on forever and the kingdom would not run itself, so it was only one month after the king’s death that the palace awakened again under plans for the future. Beginning with my husband’s coronation.
Our coronation.
Despite being married to a crown prince, I had never thought much about becoming a queen. Our lives had been good, my marriage happy, why would I ever think beyond that?
With the coronation would come a slew of parties, a celebration for the kingdom and for all the visiting royalty and dignitaries that were sure to arrive for the event. With so much to prepare, I scarcely had time to think about much else. Like the weight of a crown on my head. The new chain that would bind me to the kingdom and lead me to a decision I could never have foreseen.
I noticed soon enough though that Javotte was distracted, as if the heavy cloud that once engulfed the rest of the palace was still hanging solely over her head.
At first, I thought it the strain of preparing for the coronation. Apparently, now that I was to be queen, I was to be moved into the queen’s chambers, rooms that had been empty since the death of the prince’s mother. The first time I’d stepped into my quarters, I had thought them monstrous in size, but I’d since grown used to them. Now, I was sorry to say goodbye to the rooms that were home for me. The view from the new ones would also be different. Higher up and slightly over to the right, the view made my garden seem that much smaller, not only because of the height, but also because I could now catch a fair glimpse of the extensive palace grounds that lay beyond it. My garden was but a small corner of it all.
With so many servants assigned to help me move in very little time, my chambers, and Javotte’s temperament it seemed, were upside down. I only realized anything was wrong after we’d settled in upstairs, because Javotte, much like a lady’s maid should be, rarely, if ever, lost her temper in private, let alone in public.
We were in my new chamber, watching as a parade of servants carefully carried in what felt like an endless line of dresses from my wardrobe. Dresses for banquets, dresses for picnics, dresses for hunts, dresses for official ceremonies, dresses for traveling, dresses for balls, until the individual designs blurred indistinctly into singular lines of a rainbow.
“How many are there?” I finally asked Javotte.
Javotte tilted her head, considering. “If you were to wear one each day, you would probably not repeat before three months were up, Your Highness.”
“That seems a very large amount of dresses,” I commented.
“There are princesses with more, Your Highness,” Javotte pointed out.
I shook my head. “And now I must have even more made.”
“If you wish it, Princess,” Javotte replied, but something bitter in her tone caught my attention.
“Is something the matter, Javotte?” I narrowed my gaze at her.
Javotte stared ahead at the colorful prism of dresses arranged about the room to resemble the full range of a color wheel. She would be up late with the others sorting and putting all these away.
“Nothing is the matter, Your Highness,” she answered evenly. “It appears the move is going smoothly.”
I wasn’t about to be sidetracked. “Is something the matter with you?” I persisted.
Javotte glanced at me quickly, then glanced away, but it had been long enough for me to see the worry, the sadness, the frustration in her eyes.
“Tell me,” I commanded.
“May we speak somewhere private, Your Highness?” she asked.
“Of course,” I replied, ushering her into my new bedchamber and shutting the door behind us. I turned toward her and saw the guarded, carefully maintained neutrality fall from her face.
“Javotte, what is it?” I cried, unsure of what could be troubling her so much.
“May I speak freely, Your Highness?” she requested.
“Yes, please, go on.”
“My mother is very ill,” she said, swallowing hard to keep her voice steady, “and there is no one to care for her.”
I looked at her in surprise. “Surely there is a doctor who can help?”
She shook her head. “We did have a doctor once, but our village is small so he moved to a larger one where he could earn more pay for his work. I have a younger sister, who we once thought could take his place, but he left before she was old enough to receive any training. All she can do now is make my mother comfortable before the end.”
“This is absurd! I’ll personally send a physician over to her at once!”
“And which physician can be bothered to tend to an old peasant woman?”
“One who doesn’t want to be punished for disobeying my orders.”
“That’s very kind, Your Highness, but once my mother is tended to, what then? What about the rest of my village? Will you send a physician out each time someone falls ill, even just a little?”
I paused to consider her words. She was right. Helping her mother would not solve the greater issue that they didn’t have anyone trained in medicine. A farmer too sick to work lost income every day he wasn’t in his fields. A craftsman restricted to his bed couldn’t very well open up his shop. The coins I had distributed across the kingdom had helped somewhat, but they weren’t enough. Of course they weren’t. There had to be a greater solution to all this, and I intended to find it. Until then, Javotte’s mother was still sick, and she needn’t lose her if she could still be helped. I had an immediate solution for that.
I went to my night table and removed a few coins from my purse. “Ask the captain to help you find a doctor in the city willing to help your mother. Pay him extra if you must, and if you need more, I will give it gladly.”
Javotte’s eyes widened. “I cannot accept this. Y
ou already give so much.”
“Must I order you to do everything?” I questioned impatiently. “Use this to help your mother, and then we’ll find a solution to your village’s problem.”
Javotte hesitated further. I glared at her. She reached out her hands.
“Thank you,” she cried, flinging her arms around me. Immediately, she remembered herself and pulled back, curtsying low and looking up at me though eyes brimming with gratitude. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
I waved my hand at her. “Don’t risk your mother’s life any further. Go now to find the captain.”
Javotte curtsied again and scurried out the door. I returned to the other room where the parade of dresses was finally winding down. Without Javotte to direct them on how everything must be put away, the servants moved on to transporting other things, leaving me with some quiet to contemplate the bundles of material about the room.
Three months with no end to my dresses. And I was expected to make even more for all the days celebrating the coronation? My dress for the actual coronation was already complete. It was a lovely royal purple creation with a long, sheer cape that doubled as my train, which could be removed after the ceremony if I so wished. Even now, it stood apart from the others, the purple garnets on it outshining all other stones in the light, haphazardly dotting the dress like bright, glistening shimmers of stardust before they fade into the night sky.
Looking at those dresses, an idea began weaving through my mind, an idea that grew bolder with each wink of those stones. It wouldn’t seem like much to most people, but it was a brave step for me, an effort at change. It wasn’t the solution I sought either, but with this, I was certainly on the right path.
About a week before the coronation, Javotte came into my rooms to announce the prince. I hadn’t yet dressed, deeming it unnecessary since the whole morning would be commanded by an abundance of fittings. I had my magnificent royal purple gown set for the coronation, so now I had only to figure out all the other ones.
Putting my idea into play, Javotte had already gathered some of my least liked dresses and started taking them apart. Making small piles of jewels when necessary, carefully removing silver and gold threads, unwinding ribbons, and folding away any larger pieces of material that could either be reused or given away. With those piles out in addition to my array of dresses, my rooms truly resembled a dressmaker’s shop.
So it was that morning that I breezed out of my room and into my husband’s arms still in my nightclothes.
Looking past his shoulder, I only noticed then that he hadn’t come alone. The captain was right behind him, blushing and averting his gaze at the sight of my indecent state. The prince didn’t think twice of it. He’d probably forgotten about the captain, who was now retreating into a corner to give us some privacy. I tried to keep my little frame blocked by the prince for the rest of his visit.
“What brings you here so early, Alexander?” I asked him. “Though it does make for a wonderful start to my day.”
The prince gave me a short smile. “The royal treasurer sent me a message about the expenses for your gowns,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows. This is what this was all about? “Am I spending too much?” I asked with an innocent smile.
The prince furrowed his brow, his voice and face expressed equal concern. “You’re not spending enough. Tell me, do you not plan on making new gowns for the celebrations?”
“Is that what brought you here so early?” I laughed, unsure at the cause for urgency. “I’ve had so many dresses made in the last three years, some I’ve barely worn at all.”
The prince bent down and placed a hand on each of my arms just below the shoulders, so we’d be eye-level and I could see just how serious this was. “My love,” he said slowly, explaining something to a little girl who really couldn’t be expected to know better, “those dresses were appropriate for a princess, but they aren’t fit for a queen. Besides,” he added with a glance at the wardrobe decorating my room, “they are too regular, and you are anything but. I myself have had an entirely new wardrobe made.”
“But you just had three new suits made six weeks ago!” I exclaimed.
The prince shook his head. “They aren’t good enough anymore.”
“Very well,” I nodded, forcing composure, to keep from saying anything about how silly that sounded, as if clothing would be responsible for making us better monarchs. “I will send Javotte to personally request the funds for me. My wardrobe will be dazzling,” I assured him, though I really had no intention of using any of them for myself. I had enough for now. I would dress like a queen, but it was time to do something about all this largesse. Those monies could do some good elsewhere.
The prince kissed my forehead and released me, sweeping out of the room with the captain at his heel. After she was certain he was gone, Javotte looked at me, as if to ask what to do about the dresses we’d already chosen to fix up for the celebrations.
I pivoted on my toes, taking in the room. “I already have a new coronation dress,” I thought out loud, “the rest, it seems unnecessary.”
I didn’t mean to defy the prince, not after he’d been so good to me, not so close to one of the biggest moments of our lives, but the king’s death, even the note from Sir Percival, had done something to me. It hadn’t changed everything, but it had propped my eyes open enough to truly grasp the opulence in which we lived. When I first came to the palace, I was awed by it, always feeling the need to touch and taste everything around me. I had grown used to it, but death had jerked me hard enough to take a step back and reconsider. I’d lived with only two dresses for most of my life, and now it seemed an unwritten rule stated that I couldn’t wear one more than twice. Why did I need so many? Who was paying for it all? And why couldn’t I write my own rules?
They were unnecessary considering what others in Laurendale were going through, in a country just four years removed from war, so I didn’t feel guilty about the truth I had stretched. My dresses had been dazzling the first time I wore them, and they would be dazzling again.
Thusly, we simply altered the dresses I already had, funneled the extra money to pay for Javotte’s sister to apprentice to a doctor, and hoped that with all that was going on, the prince wouldn’t notice.
There is nothing quite able to compare to a royal coronation.
Over the years, I have been to a few others. I was there when Princess Kiara and Prince Azahr ascended to their throne and again just a few months ago, when Prince Daimyon and Princess Lyla received the crowns of their kingdom. Before then, our coronation was the first I had ever attended, and despite all, it’s still a well-protected memory.
The day started early to allow extra time and care in dressing for the occasion. By late morning, my husband came to get me from my room, dashing and handsome as ever in his royal purple suit with gold buttons, sword, gloves, and cape.
“You look lovely, my heart,” my prince sang to me, eyes shining with excitement as he caught my hand just as I came out of a full spin that showed off the reach of my skirts.
“You look rather charming yourself,” I replied.
Alexander raised a finger to affectionately tap my nose. “I will always be your Prince Charming.”
I’ll admit, my knees turned to jelly.
We glided down the hall arm in arm, heads high, hearts bursting with pride at the awesome honor we were about to receive. We walked to the great throne room and waited at the entrance for our cue to step forward. The captain stood there with a thick scroll outlining the laws of Laurendale that the prince was to hold during the ceremony. In one hand a sword, in one hand a scroll, a balance of wisdom and might, patience and strength, virtue and courage. The prince walked the aisle toward the thrones, with me following close behind him, blind to the crowd I knew was present, unable to see anyone through the haze of this incredible moment in my life. Once there, we knelt before the steps to our thrones and swore fealty to the kingdom and her people.
Onl
y then were we led to the seats of the kingdom, the prince settled atop his ornate, centered one, and me in the smaller one slightly behind and to his right. The large gold crown studded with rare gems was placed upon the new king’s head, and he sat taller beneath its weight. After, the crown would be locked in a secure vault in the treasury and removed only for very rare and very special occasions. Smaller, lighter gold crowns were made for the prince to wear from today onward.
“… I present to you His Royal Majesty, King Henri Christopher Charles Alexander, Ruler of Laurendale and Protector of the Realm …”
I don’t remember much of the actual ceremony, but I remember that part.
Despite having been warned, I wasn’t prepared for the weight of the crown on my head. When it was placed there, I struggled a moment to keep my head up and my decidedly not swan-like neck from buckling. I managed, somehow, and was grateful even then that I would soon be able to switch that crown in for a lighter one. As a princess, I had worn a tiara to mark my status, but only a crown would do for a queen. Unlike the king, I had more variety in being allowed to wear either gold or silver. I had spent some time with Javotte and the royal jeweler designing delicate circlets of each that would quietly and modestly announce my station.
“…and his wife, Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ella…”
My name was so short compared to his, compared to all the other royals that came before me. It was out and over before it had even begun to echo.
The crowd only materialized for me after those words were said. Prince Daimyon and Princess Lyla, whose smile reached from one end of the room to the other; Queen Alaina with her king and twins; and Princess Kiara with the hulking man who was once a beast. Within the throne room itself, only ally royalty and high ranking nobility were permitted entry. The upper galleries of the throne room, usually able to fit over one hundred people had been blocked off by the captain for our security, insisting a live king was of greater use to the kingdom. Still, I looked, hoping for the familiar glow of an older woman, hoping that Marie had put aside her reservations and come to celebrate this day with me after all.
A Cinderella Retelling Page 19