by Lili Valente
Once I acquired more advanced training as a seamstress, I was able to make my clothes, but as a teenager, I was doomed to scour the children’s section, struggling to find something without a unicorn print or pink glitter on it.
But custom making my wardrobe is also a pain in my bony backside. I don’t enjoy sewing practical clothing—or anything for myself, really. I prefer to spend my time and energy creating beautiful, whimsical, sexy things for other women’s adventures.
Other people’s fashion needs are far more interesting than mine.
Other people, in general, are far more interesting than I am.
I am a woman without mystery, who has known since she was a small child exactly when her journey would end. I’m sure that has stunted my emotional growth and is—in part, at least—why I spend more time dreaming than doing. Why I float where the current takes me, while my sisters confidently paddle their own canoes.
But there are occasions when being a small, chronically exhausted introvert who would rather hide from the world than face her problems comes in handy.
When I want to disappear, I simply…disappear.
As a child, I was the undisputed queen of hide-and-seek. As an adult, I can manage to avoid my mother for months, even though we live in the same wing of the castle and both rarely leave home. With a split-second’s notice of confrontation ahead, I can find a nook or cranny, shove myself into it, and stay there as long as necessary.
It is my superpower.
So when I reach the top of the cabin’s stairs—my heart hammering and my lungs screeching that they weren’t made for feats of athleticism like moving quickly so soon after waking—I swiftly run through my list of previously vetted hiding places and choose the one most likely to stump Jeffrey.
Jeffrey is a large person, not just tall, but broad and thickly muscled with hands so huge they dwarf every utensil in the kitchen. And large people always underestimate just how tiny a human body can get when motivated to vanish.
I dive behind the kitchen counter and crawl to the cabinet beneath the sink just as I hear Jeffrey at the top of the stairs. Holding my breath, I open the cabinet door and crawl inside, tucking myself in between the pipes and the cleaning products and shutting myself away.
I close my eyes, focusing on slowing my breathing and sipping air through my nose as quietly as possible. At first, I’m keenly aware of Jeffrey’s search and the way my heart twitches behind my ribs every time he calls my name or opens a closet door.
But eventually, I retreat to that dreamy state where I can wander for hours, needing no other entertainment. In my mind is a land of mist and magic filled with a cast of characters who are always embroiled in one epic adventure or another.
When I was younger, that place was so vivid I was certain I traveled there when I crawled under my bed to play pretend, just like the Pevensies visiting Narnia via wardrobe. Eventually, however, I realized my imagination was simply a little more active than most.
It’s another tick in the “maybe I hallucinated the kidnapping” column, I suppose, but that encounter was so different than anything I’ve experienced while daydreaming.
In my imagination, I always feel safe.
That day, I’d been terrified.
For the first minutes in that shed, or shack or…whatever it was, I’d been too hysterical to focus on anything the woman had said. Those memories are the most frightening, even more so than the things she told me after, but they live in a back corner of my mind, tucked away with the morning I watched my father fall off the roof while trying to unplug the chimney and the time Zan stayed underwater in that lake so long I was sure she’d drowned.
Against my will, that’s where my thoughts go now, to the corner full of terrifying things, pawing through psychic keepsakes I wish I could get rid of. I know fear is useful and that bad memories help us learn from our mistakes, but do I really need every memory of every childhood trauma? Every time a bully shoved me off the merry-go-round? Every time my sisters fought my playground battles for me, defending the sister who couldn’t defend herself?
Or simply wouldn’t defend herself.
In most cases, I don’t see the point in fighting back. I am the runt of the litter and have a debilitating stutter. Whether fighting with fists or words, I am doomed to lose. If I can’t avoid or escape it, my best bet is to remain stoic and silent rather than give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me fight, suffer, and fail.
So who was that woman who kneed Jeffrey in the balls and made a run for it?
I honestly don’t know, but…I like her. She seems like the kind of person who solves her own problems.
Someone who maybe solves other people’s problems, too.
It can’t be too late to salvage Sabrina and Andrew’s relationship. I can figure out a way to run damage control. I just need to get away from Jeffrey first.
I wait until I hear his car start outside, signaling that he’s taken the bait and decided that I must have left on foot, and then crawl stiffly out from under the sink.
“Ow,” I mutter as I stand, wincing at the painful creaking of my joints from being contorted for so long.
But I don’t stop to stretch. I don’t have much time. It’s a forty-minute round trip to the village. Add in the thirty to forty minutes it will take Jeffrey to search the businesses on the high street, and I’ve got barely an hour to get out of here without another altercation with the General.
Tossing dirty and clean clothes together in my duffle bag, along with bottles of prescription medicine, pain reliever, and toiletries, I corral my personal belongings in less than ten minutes. Thanks to my illness, my sewing things are still mostly packed, so it only takes another ten to drag them out to the car—catching my breath for a moment in the cool night air halfway through my second trip, because stairs are even more exhausting when no one is chasing you up them.
Finally, I grab my duffle from the bedroom and head for the stairs, pausing by Jeffrey’s sofa bed.
For a moment, I consider writing him a note to thank him for nursing me back to health, but then I see the phone sitting on the table by the bookshelves, and my anger comes rushing back.
With one call—one lie—he might have undone what took years of careful planning and scheming to accomplish.
I realize it’s hypocritical to hate Jeffrey for being a liar when all I’ve done for the past few weeks is lie to almost everyone I love. But my lies were noble, meant to ensure the happiness of my nearest and dearest. Jeffrey’s lie was a sneaky one, tricking me into dropping my guard long enough for him to ruin everything.
I can only hope he didn’t succeed.
I nearly grab the phone and dial Sabrina—I’m dying to find out if she’s okay and to assure her that she and Andrew can get through this if they’ll just listen to their hearts—but I can’t risk being here when Jeffrey gets back. He could get halfway to the village and decide to turn around, so I need to hit the road.
Closing the front door behind me, I hurry down to the car and toss my duffle in the back seat.
I keep my lights on dim, plagued by the irrational fear that if I turn on the brights, it will summon Jeffrey from the darkness like a movie monster. As I drive toward town, though, I realize I really do feel better than I have in days. My head is clear, and I can finally pull in a deep breath without coughing.
That’s something, at least—Jeffrey waited to betray me until I had the strength to run away from him. It gives me something positive to cling to as I head for home.
I’m sure Andrew or Sabrina or someone from the Gallantian royal family will be calling my parents to spill the beans about the twin swap very soon. I should try to get there first and do damage control.
The thought makes my stomach ache.
My mother is going to be furious. Even if Sabrina and Andrew end up getting married, she’ll be furious. She doesn’t like changes to plans, especially when she isn’t consulted about them first. But if this fiasco ends without one of her daughter
s married to the future king of Gallantia…
I shudder.
I can’t even imagine what she’ll do, but it will be dramatic and stressful for everyone involved, especially me, deservedly, since I set the plan in motion.
Even before I reach the village, I’ve started to think maybe heading for home isn’t the best idea. Perhaps it would be better to call a brief truce with Jeffrey and give myself a safe place to sleep while I whip up a strategy to defuse the situation. It’s already dark, and I’m not likely to find lodging between here and the castle at this hour. Rindish people are hospitable, yes, but they also tend to go to bed early during the week. We’re an industrious, hardworking nation with a large percentage of citizens who either enjoy early morning recreation or who own farm animals that need tending at first light, or both.
I think of Sabrina and Andrew, of how eager they both are to pop out of bed and go jogging at the crack of dawn, and I hope that they’ve seen how ideally suited they are for each other. And I pray my mother will see it, too, and refrain from any rash, destructive action.
Slowing as I drive through the village, I’m on the high street when a tense situation catches my eye ahead.
It’s the General himself, standing outside the pizza parlor, toe-to-toe with a man even bigger and broader than he is. The other man’s body language is coiled, tight with barely contained violence, and my first instinct is to pull over and try to defuse the situation before Jeffrey gets a black eye or worse.
A little voice also whispers that saving Jeffrey from certain doom might convince him to fetch his things and get lost, leaving me alone in the cabin without the constant temptation of his delicious body while I ponder my next move. But I’m primarily motivated by a desire to spread peace and love.
The man was already kneed in the balls tonight. I can at least try to help save his face.
I swing into the small parking lot beside the restaurant and slam out of the car without stopping to consider that I’m still in my pajamas—gray cotton pants with pink sheep on them and a filmy pink shirt with tea stains at the hem. Also, I haven’t brushed my hair or teeth in roughly twenty-four hours. I ignore my makeup-free face and the fact that I’m so pale from years spent working indoors that I look like I’m descended from an albino cave newt.
Or a vampire.
Or a ghost.
I know which one the man facing Jeffrey down in front of the pizza parlor would choose.
The moment the man’s gaze shifts my way, pulling me into focus over Jeffrey’s shoulder, his eyes go wide and his jaw drops.
He does look like he’s seen a ghost, and not the friendly kind.
But then, Rafe made it clear the day I said no to his proposal that he never wanted to see me again, not in life or death or anything in between.
9
Jeffrey
One moment, I’m about to come to blows with a stranger over a stupid misunderstanding. The next, he’s stumbling away from me, the color rushing from his face.
He looks like he’s having a heart attack.
Or like he’s spotted someone even bigger and meaner than he is over my shoulder. I spin, braced to defend myself, and see a thin blonde, still in her sheep pajamas, plodding up the stone path behind me with an anxious but determined expression.
Elizabeth.
Thank God, she’s come to her senses.
Now I can explain everything to this man—again. He can see for himself how I could have mistaken his wife for the woman walking up to us, and then Elizabeth and I can return to the cabin and work this out like civilized human beings.
Lizzy pulls in a deep breath, but instead of voicing the apology I’m expecting, she looks past me and says, “Hello, Rafe. It’s so good to see you. How is…everything?”
“Everything is fine,” the man—Rafe, apparently—says in a tight voice.
I shift back a step, turning to keep Lizzy and the volatile man she’s acquainted with both in my sights. So far, he looks too stunned to get violent, but I’ve seen how he reacted when all I did was touch his wife’s elbow. The next thing I knew, this behemoth had shoved me out the restaurant door, ignoring my attempts to explain the misunderstanding and threatening me in such swiftly-spoken Rindish I could barely understand him.
“You look well.” Lizzy’s fingers tangle in front of her for a moment before she waves a hand toward her face. “I’ve been ill, so… I’m sure I don’t look well. No need to lie about it. What with the hair and the pajamas. Gotta love sheep!” She giggles so self-consciously it makes me wince.
Noticing my grimace, Lizzy shoots me a glare before returning her attention to the man who must be her ex.
No one gets this awkward around an old friend or estranged family member.
She crosses her arms over her stomach, tucking the stained hem of her shirt under one forearm. “I’m sorry for whatever Jeffrey did to upset you. He’s a huge asshole.” I take a breath to defend myself, but she cuts me off. “Not another word from you, Jeffrey. You did something. I know you did, or Rafe wouldn’t be so upset. Rafe is a very nice person.”
“I’m not upset,” Rafe says, his voice steadier than it was before. “And I get it now.” He turns to me with a curt nod. “I’m sorry I pushed you out of the door. I didn’t like the way you touched my wife, but….” He glances at Lizzy before shifting back to me and continuing flatly, “I know how it is with her. She’d drive the sanest man out of his mind.”
Elizabeth lets out a soft squeak of surprise, but when I glance her way, anticipating a return volley, she doesn’t say a word.
She presses her lips together, her throat working as she swallows. Finally, after a strained moment, she says, “All right. If that’s sorted, I’ll just take Jeffrey and be going. Good luck to you, Rafe. I heard about the baby. I’m so happy for you and your wife.”
Rafe’s chest puffs up, and his jaw tightens. He doesn’t look pleased by the congratulations, but he tips his head in acknowledgment before adding stiffly, “My mom’s watching Gretchen so Cristina and I can have a holiday. We’re heading north to camp in Wettingfeld Forest for a few days. I assume you’re not going there?”
Elizabeth shakes her head. “No. We’re going back to our cabin here for a few more days, then to our respective homes.”
“Your castles, you mean,” he says, glancing my way. “You’re the prince her parents are making her marry, right?”
“His brother,” I offer.
He grunts, disgust and pain flashing across his face before he regains control.
“But it’s not like that,” Lizzy jumps in. “Not the way you’re thinking, anyway. Things have gotten…crazy, the way they do with my family. You know how it is. I can explain it to you later, if you’d like. Maybe via email? Or a call?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Lizzy,” Rafe says softly, shooting one last pained glance her way before tucking his chin to his chest. “Good night.”
Without another word, he spins on his heel and marches back inside, leaving Lizzy and me alone on the path. All the people who were lingering outside when I first arrived have apparently been seated. Or perhaps they just wanted to avoid watching grown men solve their problems with their fists.
On the whole, the Rindish are a peaceful people. Rafe’s hairpin trigger is the exception, not the rule. It’s hard to imagine Lizzy involved with someone like that, but clearly it was serious between them.
“Your ex is…large,” I finally say, breaking the silence.
“He is,” she murmurs, still staring at the door where he disappeared. “He always was, but he’s gotten even bigger since we were kids. He would have squashed you flat.”
“He wouldn’t have squashed me flat.”
“Oh, yes, he would have. He rarely gets into fights, but when he does, he always wins.” She frowns as she looks my way. “What on earth did you do to make him so angry?”
“I touched his wife’s arm.”
She frowns harder, clearly dubious.
Her narrowed eyes relax around the edges. “He’s very protective when it comes to his family.” She sighs and her bottom lip pushes out. “Do I drive people crazy? Do you think? Really?”
“No,” I say, feeling for her. “I mean, you’ve been infuriating tonight, but most of the time you’re…”
She blinks, waiting for a beat before she prompts, “What? It’s okay. You can say it. Whatever it is.”
“Compelling,” I finish, instead of beautiful or funny or fascinating or unforgettable.
She is all those things, but she’s also angry with me. Better to save those confessions for a time when she’s more open to considering my offer.
Your offer? Offer for what? She deceived your entire family. Not to mention the fact that she’s out of her mind. You can’t seriously be considering this. You shouldn’t start a book club with this woman, let alone a relationship.
I don’t know what I’m seriously considering, only that Lizzy looks so beautiful and sad in the red glow of the cheap plastic torches by the restaurant’s front door. All I want to do is draw her into my arms and promise that everything is going to be all right.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she whispers. “I was upset by your betrayal, and you shouldn’t have lied, but that’s no excuse for violence. I hope you and your privates will accept my sincere apology.”
My lips twitch. “My privates and I will consider it if you’ll consider my apology for calling home. I truly didn’t feel I had any other choice, Lizzy. My brother deserves the truth. Surely you can see that side of things.”
Her lips tighten again. “Your brother deserves to be happy, and Sabrina will make him happy. Or, she would have made him happy if things had worked out according to plan.” She stands up straighter, rolling her shoulders back. “But there’s still hope. I know Andrew has his fair share of ego, but deep down, he’s a reasonable man. Surely he’ll see that love is more important than pride.”