His Lost Princess: A Fairy Tale (Tales of Euphoria Book 2)

by Ella Ardent

  The snow was falling thickly. The air was bitterly cold and it seemed that the hearth did not cast enough heat, no matter how much wood was piled into it or how high the flames leaped. The stone floor had a patina of ice upon it, and my teeth were chattering, even within the house.

  I heard his carriage outside the door, the horses nickering as they halted, and my heart soared for joy. I stood, hands clasped, and savored the familiar deep sound of his voice as he greeted the elderly butler who refused to abandon him. I heard Maligna’s squeal of delight and the sound of her running feet, and guessed that Bella would be fast behind. I was glad of his return, even though I imagined that I would not see him soon myself.

  I was wrong.

  He came to the kitchen immediately, his brow dark and his step decisive. My father is tall and he has a commanding presence. I heard him close the kitchen door behind himself with resolve and felt the weight of his glare.

  I turned and stood, facing him with a fluttering heart. What was wrong?

  Did he know I had gone to the palace?

  Did he disapprove?

  Or had he simply learned that I had tricked Bella?

  Felix is a handsome man, even now, and I do not doubt that he was gloriously handsome in his younger days. His hair is silver now, though I remember it brown, and his eyes seem darker than once they were. He is broad of shoulder and trim, impeccably dressed and flawlessly polite. His eyes burned as he surveyed me and I knew he was displeased.

  I couldn’t imagine why.

  Because he couldn’t know.

  But it seemed he did. He strode to me and caught my chin in his hand, compelling me to meet his gaze. “Was it you?” he demanded with low heat.

  “I do not understand,” I lied, and he cast me to the floor with one gesture.

  I was shocked, for he had never used force with me before, but I could see that he was livid. His eyes snapped with fury and his words were clipped.

  “All the kingdom is talking of a beauty who was chosen by the prince,” he said, bending toward me and whispering with heat. “A beauty with dark hair and blue eyes. A beauty adorned with gray pearls of an irregular shape.”

  I blushed and dropped my gaze.

  “Do you think I have forgotten them?” he demanded. “Do you think I have no soul?”

  I could not reply.

  “I gave them to your mother on our wedding day,” he said, biting off the words. “And there are none like them in all of Euphoria. Was it you?” His voice rose to a roar. “Tell me the truth!”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again, then lifted my chin. “All the maiden daughters of the house were invited,” I said and my voice sounded small. “I had a right to go and Bella gave me permission to do so once my chores were done.”

  “Then she must have ensured you could not finish them,” he said, proving that he was well aware of her treatment of me. I resented that he accepted it so readily, and that made me speak when I should have remained silent.

  “But I did.” My voice rose with defiance. “I needed gems to wear, and they were the only ones I possessed.”

  “And then what?” my father whispered, his eyes still blazing. “Did he take you? Did he soil you? I heard that the mysterious beauty was his choice?”

  “Who said as much?”

  “Everyone on the road!” He bellowed, and pointed at the door. “I passed a party en route to Imperium, a party including the Emperor’s own daughter. The tale of their departure and the insult done to the Emperor is at every toll booth and tavern.”

  I gasped. I had feared this but it was worse to hear it was truth.

  “There will be war,” my father muttered and paced the width of the room and back. He halted before me once more, even more furious than before. “So, tell me the truth and tell me now so I don’t have to hear it in a tavern. Did that son of Marta’s claim the only asset you possess?”

  “Royce is the king’s son!”

  “But if you are shamed, he will give you nothing,” my father spat. “If you bear his bastard, he won’t even acknowledge it.” He straightened and glared at me. “Do you think I saved you for this travesty?”

  “Saved me?” That brought me to my feet. I had nothing left to lose and the words fell from my lips with the fury of truth. “I have been displaced from my standing as your legal daughter to work harder than any slave! I receive nothing but orders and possess nothing but rags. My life is a horror and an abomination.” I gestured to the kitchen and then to myself. “From what fate did you save me that this should be a relief?”

  There was a glitter in his eyes that would have frightened me if I hadn’t been so angry.

  If I hadn’t survived a night in the palace.

  “You look exactly like your mother,” he whispered and my blood ran cold at the look in his eyes.

  I had seen that look in the king’s eyes, and in Royce’s eyes after he drank the wine. I took a step back.

  He pursued me, his stare unflinching. “You are her very image. To every last hair.” He exhaled and surveyed me. “Her twin.”

  I took another step back and found the wall behind me.

  He leaned closer again. “Blood of my heart and love of my life,” he said hoarsely. “She was everything to me. She was my life and yet I couldn’t save her.”

  “No one could have saved her,” I dared to say.

  “But she made me promise to save you,” he continued. “And I did.”

  “I would argue that,” I snapped.

  He stepped forward and seized my chin, crushing me into the wall. My heart was racing. “I wed quickly to save you from my own grief, and my own wicked desire.”

  I was confused by his words and could make no sense of them. I shook my head, not really wanting to understand.

  His hand closed around my nape and he lifted me to my toes, his gaze roving over my features. “The very image of my heart’s desire,” he whispered, eyes blazing.

  I gasped, not knowing what to say, but he abruptly flung me to the hearth.

  “I saved you from evil,” he said bitterly. “But you sought it out, despite my effort. Whatever becomes of you now, you are my daughter no longer.”

  He strode from the kitchen, slamming the door hard behind himself. “Bella!” he roared from the front room and I heard him take the stairs two at a time. “Prepare to welcome me home!”

  I swallowed, appalled by what he had told me, shaking and uncertain. I raised a hand to my chin and knew I would be bruised.

  Something slipped out of the shadows by the door, as sinuous as a cat but much larger. I inhaled sharply at the sight of Maligna, for her expression revealed that she had heard every word.

  “I will tell her,” she taunted in a whisper. “As soon as he has spent his unholy desire upon her, I will tell her that he was truly aroused by you and the memory you evoke.” Her brows rose and her delight at the prospect was clear. “Do you think she will be pleased?”

  I was already on my feet. I didn’t need to be warned of Bella’s vindictive nature. “I will be gone,” I said and gathered my few treasures. I knew I wouldn’t return, and it didn’t matter whether Maligna knew my hiding places now. I had so little to my name that it only took me a moment to seize it all.

  “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would lock you in and compel you to face her wrath,” Maligna said. “But you’d probably recover. As it is, we’ll all be happier with you gone.” She opened the door to the yard for me, smiling as the snow swirled into the kitchen. More than a foot of fresh snow had fallen and the wind was bitter. “How far will you get, Ellie, before you are claimed by the winter night? It will be amusing to find out, come spring.”

  I wanted to ask her who was going to cook and clean and scrub in my absence but didn’t want her to change her mind. She might lock the door and trap me in this hell forever. I bit my tongue and I ran, letting her laugh when I slid on the ice that had formed outside the door and fell.

  “Good luck, Ellie,” she said from t
he other side of the door, and I heard the lock turn.

  I should have despaired, but once again, I doubted there was any place worse than the house I had just left. I picked myself up and headed for the one good person I knew and trusted.

  Marta.

  Marta didn’t answer the door right away. I knocked and knocked, I tried the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. I knocked again, and I shouted through the keyhole in desperation.

  “Marta! Please!” I cried, fearing it was futile.

  She’d abandoned me, though I knew not why. I wiped a tear from my cheek with the back of my hand and looked back toward the village. I could hear horses and the herald’s horn. I couldn’t discern his words, and I wondered what had happened.

  Then the door opened abruptly behind me. I stumbled, then caught my balance and spun to face her. “Please, Marta, help me.”

  Her features could have been cut of stone, but her gaze danced over me, seeing far more than I told her. “What do you want of me?”

  “Hide me, please. Hide me as you hid Royce from the king.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I will flee, just as you fled your home. There must be some place better than Euphoria.”

  She reached out and touched my chin, lifting it so that she could look into my eyes. Did she notice the rising bruise? “He chose you and now he seeks you.”

  I inhaled, taking an uneven breath. “He is no longer the Royce I knew.”

  Marta closed her eyes then and seemed suddenly older. Certainly, there were lines around her mouth that I hadn’t noticed before. “I thought you might save him,” she whispered, but didn’t wait for a reply. There was resignation in her eyes when she gestured me into the hut, then she looked back toward the village.

  “We don’t have much time,” she murmured, shutting the door. “You will have to hide in plain sight.” She surveyed the interior of her home, so clearly seeking something that I stood mute, waiting for her decision. I couldn’t help, because I didn’t know what she intended to do.

  I trusted her, though.

  When she seized the knife and sharpened it with purpose on the whetstone, I waited and watched. When she strode toward me, that knife gleaming, I waited and watched. When she seized my hair, I didn’t so much as breathe. I certainly didn’t flinch, for I had guessed her intent and I welcomed it.

  In a way, it was a relief to feel my hair sheared away. My long hair marked my gender. Its color was part of my resemblance to my mother. The gleaming tresses had been part of what drew the hungry gazes at the palace. When I closed my eyes and felt its weight fall away, I could almost forget the grip of Royce’s fingers within it.

  The memory of his fury sickened me.

  I was well rid of the hair and glad when Marta cast it into the fire. It smoked as it burned, the smell stinging my nostrils, but Marta bent me forward and cropped it short all over my head. She worked until it was no more than the length of my thumb all over, the way boys cropped their hair. I helped her to sweep it toward the hearth, ensuring it was all burned beyond recognition.

  “What have you brought?” she demanded, and I showed her my few possessions. The pearls. One glass shoe. It was pathetic, even more so when she claimed the shoe. “If you have this, he can claim you again.”

  I caught my breath. “It is so beautiful, but it is not real.”

  Marta smiled sadly and whispered a word. I watched as it melted to a puddle of water, then evaporated as if it had never been.

  I felt bereft, as if a dream had been stolen from me.

  At least I still had the pearls.

  “Your clothes,” she said and I understood.

  I peeled off my garments with haste, glad to be rid of their dirty weight. They, too, were flung on the fire, one at a time for they smoked much more than the hair had done. I tore them into pieces and fed them to the blaze, while Marta dug in a trunk behind me. She returned with boy’s clothing, clothing that was too small to have belonged to Royce.

  She smiled at my glance. “Argenta wore these when she went into the forest.” She shoved them toward me, as if she’d be glad to have them gone from sight. Did she miss Argenta? I suspected so and ached that both of her children were now lost to her. I donned the plain chausses woven of dark wool, the sturdy chemise, and boiled wool vest.

  There were boots, too, and they were only a little bit too big—but then Argenta and I had been close to the same size. Marta cast the last of my clothing into the fire, then tugged a hat down over my head. She took some soot from the hearth and rubbed it over my face and hands, then handed me a worn cloak.

  “It will be your eyes that reveal you,” she whispered.

  “I’ll keep my head down.”

  Marta shook her head. She went to the shelves in her kitchen, running a fingertip across the vessels lined up there. She murmured beneath her breath, then reached behind one clay pot to seize a bottle that had been hidden behind it. She shook it, peering at the contents and grimacing.

  “Not much, but maybe enough,” she murmured. She poured the contents into one hand, then rubbed her palms together. My eyes widened, for I realized I was seeing her work her magic twice in short order. This had nothing to do with those ill-fated birds.

  I stood still when she returned to stand before me, once again trusting her completely. She smiled a little. “It can only be a small glamor, but run far and fast to ensure it is enough.”

  She cast the fine dust she had made into my face, then rubbed it into the skin. I felt a tingle and smelled something astringent, like a mint or other herb, but beyond that was uncertain of its effect.

  “The first person to whom you speak will set the glamor. Whatever is in his or her thoughts when you speak will manifest in your disguise. Mind you speak to one person alone. If there are more, the glamor will mirror the thoughts of all, and in so doing will reveal your truth.”

  I nodded, not truly understanding anything beyond her urgency and her attempt to protect me.

  “In exchange, you will be able to ask that person once to speak their truth.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Each of us holds a truth within us that we dare not utter aloud. Each of us has a secret we fear to reveal. Such confidences quietly eat away at many of us, as a mouse in the dark will gnaw through the contents of a pantry, one grain at a time.” Marta smiled. “In giving you a disguise, this person will earn a release from that burden. Choose your maker with care.”

  I knew then what I would do with this gift. It would be the only hope for Euphoria, and more importantly for Royce.

  “What happened to Lars?” I asked and Marta froze.

  “What have you heard of Lars at the palace?”

  “Royce had a dream and mentioned him,” I said, not telling her all of the truth. “I realized I didn’t know what happened to him.”

  Marta paled and she frowned. “He died, at the mill.” She shook her head. “He was crushed. It was a terrible accident. Royce had gone with him that day, but he was small. I was assured that he hadn’t seen any of it.”

  “By the miller,” I guessed.

  Marta nodded. “What was his dream?”

  “I don’t know,” I said and it was true.

  She raised a hand. “If you don’t tell me where you’re going, I can’t be compelled to surrender that detail.”

  I nodded, certain she had guessed my intention all the same.

  Marta kissed my cheeks then—left, right, and then the left again—which made me think of my mother and brought tears to my eyes. She then spun me to the door. She opened it to reveal the swirling white of rapidly falling snow. “Be safe, Eleanor, and take care. No matter what you believe in this moment, you are loved.”

  I glanced back and she kissed her fingertips in farewell. Were there tears in Marta’s eyes, too? I would never know, for I took a step over the threshold and she closed the door behind me swiftly.

  With half a dozen steps, I left her garden. With a dozen more, I co
uld see little but the snow. I could hear the river, though, and by the sound, I found the path that wound beside it, the one that led to the rocks in the shallows where I had washed the laundry a hundred times. No one would be there on this day. It wasn’t far from there to the mill. I stumbled onward, hastening away from the smell of the village fires and the sound of horses in the square.

  It wasn’t long before I suspected that one such horse followed me.

  Chapter 9

  Royce

  I awakened slowly, perhaps due to the haze in my mind from the wine. I remembered the night before, the beauty I’d claimed for my own, and my morning erection demanded immediate satisfaction. I rolled over, a smile of intent upon my lips, and was shocked.

  She was gone.

  The door to the gilded cage stood open, but beyond that, there was no sign that the woman I’d locked within it had ever been there. Her cloak, her mask, her pearls, had all disappeared as surely as she had.

  I raised a hand to check and the golden key was still upon the table beside my bed. She couldn’t have reached it alone. The door to my chamber was still locked, and the servants hadn’t removed the tub of water or stoked the fire.

  Were there other keys to my chamber?

  Even if there were, could someone have entered the room and freed her without my knowing? I didn’t think it possible, but I eyed the empty pitcher of wine and wondered.

  I crossed the chamber, once again having the sense that something of importance eluded me. My beauty had been so tiny, so perfect...so willing to challenge me. I frowned, half-recalling some discord of the night before but unable to remember it clearly. My gaze slid to the tub before the fire and I felt a ripple of shame, though I wasn’t sure of its root.

  Of greater import was her disappearance. I had to find her, and perhaps she could tell me what I had done. Had I offended her? Had she chosen to flee from me? I had a sense that might be the case, despite the gap in my memory.

  I sensed I had had my nightmare. Had I done her injury in that state? It seemed unlikely, though I could have given insult.