by Ashenden, V.
"Do not let the queen stare too closely at your face," Homa warned, running her hands through Sienna's freshly washed hair as Betilly brushed it. Sienna was lying on her back, her head set directly before the fire, the heat drying it and burning her scalp. "If you do, she will know you are not her daughter. In fact, it is best if you do not even look at the queen. She will see the difference in eye color. And try not to speak, but if you must, keep your voice low. She will know her daughter's voice."
"But won't my silence anger her?" Sienna asked.
"No, the princess is often quiet around her mother. This will not surprise her, as you are so very upset about the ball. However, if she speaks to you or asks you a question, and she will, you must at least nod in agreement."
"What if I have to say no?"
Homa chuckled. "You do not say no to the queen in any matter. But if she asks you a question that cannot be answered with a nod of the head, you must respond—do not ignore her. To ignore the queen would be such a show of disrespect, the princess would surely pay the price tomorrow."
"What do I do then?"
"Avert your head and speak softly. A simple response is best, one or two words. Clear your throat often so she is reminded of what I will tell her, that you have a slight sickness. But most importantly, above any of these things, do not go near Vrine, the witch."
"Is she really a witch? Does she really know magic?"
"I do not know, but at the very least, she has a keen mind and sensibility and she will see through your disguise as clear as glass."
"Yes, ma'am."
"We have no more time. Your hair will have to do."
"It's still damp," Betilly said.
"It will dry on the dance floor. The dress, let's put her in it."
Sienna stood up, taking off her clothes, left in only a one-piece slip. Celeste was dressed similarly, though she was now under her covers, snoring away obliviously, far happier than Sienna was about to be. The dress was pulled up and fastened in the back.
"It's so loose on her," Betilly said. "We won't even have to pull the corset."
"Poor girl hasn't had the privilege of our princess."
"They will notice the weight difference," Betilly said.
"They won't. Don't look for problems."
"We'll have to stuff her bust. They'll notice that."
"Yes, do that."
Betilly stuffed two cloths down Sienna's bust, making her breasts bigger than they were. It embarrassed her.
"She'll need heels too, just to add a couple of inches to her height," Betilly said.
They put her in a pair of white shoes with tall arches at the heels, which were hard to stand on, let alone walk.
"Oh, dear," Betilly said, holding up the earrings as she examined Sienna's ears. "She doesn't have her ears pierced."
"Child, haven't you ever had your ears pierced?"
Sienna shook her head.
"Leave them off," Homa said. "Her hair will hide them anyway."
Betilly began spotting Sienna's face with makeup as Homa finished with the dress. The lipstick was the worst. Just like last time, it tasted like wax.
"Don't lick it," Betilly said.
"I don't like how it feels."
"Close your eyes," Betilly said as she applied eye shadow.
"Why are you putting makeup on me if I'm wearing a mask?" Sienna asked.
Betilly paused, and then she laughed. "You know, you're right. I'm just so used to doing it."
Homa shook her head. "Child, you'll at least need lipstick."
"Why?" Sienna asked.
"In case the prince wants to kiss you."
"What?" she said loudly. "I have to kiss him?"
"Yes, if he wants to," Homa said. "But only allow him to tilt the mask up a bit so he cannot see your full face."
"But, but, but I've never, never kissed a boy before."
"Oh, dear me," Betilly said. "I do not know how this is ever going to work."
"Quiet, Betilly. She needs confidence, not doubt. And, child, if this is your first kiss, could you ask for better than a prince?"
"I guess not, ma'am."
"Good girl," Homa said, brushing her hair again.
"She really is lovely," Betilly said, straightening the front of her dress, fixing the fake breasts, draping a necklace around her neck that came to her collarbone.
"She is," Homa agreed. "The crown tiara now."
"Oh, dear me," Betilly said.
Sienna felt something slip into her hair, scraping over her scalp. It was heavy on her head. Homa secured it in place with a hair barrette, and then they both stepped back, taking breaths.
"Turn around, child," Homa said.
Sienna did, looking at herself in the broken mirror, her eyes running from head to toe. She did not even recognize herself. She was not entirely sure someone else was not simply standing in front of her, wearing the same thing. The dress was beautiful. The bust line was all white, with long sleeves on the arms and an open area that showed off her chest, making a sharp V between her neck and breasts. The skirt was gold, wider than the bust too, stretching all the way down to her tall shoes. A bright diamond was sitting on the end of her necklace. On her head was the silver and diamond tiara, sparkling as the candlelight caught it. Her makeup was lovely too, her lips pinker than normal. As Sienna stared at herself, she realized that the only part that was really hers was the golden hair falling down her shoulders, curly and going in all directions.
"You are a vision of loveliness, child," Homa whispered.
"You are, dear," Betilly said. "You're going to make some man very happy one day."
Sienna blushed as she glanced at Betilly and Homa in the mirror. She had never thought she was pretty, let alone allowed herself to think she would be married off to a man who would be happy to be with her. She had assumed life would always be as it was, in her stable at the end of the barn, cleaning her uncle's tavern.
"Thank you," Sienna whispered. "You both made me look so nice. I don't know what to say. I don't think I'll ever look this pretty again."
"You will," Betilly said. "And when it's time for you to get married, you may call on me and I will be there."
"We both will," Homa said. "We promise to leave Kathree at home."
The three chuckled.
"Are you ready for the mask?" Homa asked.
Sienna took a deep breath. "Yes, ma'am."
"There's a good girl."
Chapter Seven
The Prince and the Pauper
Homa discreetly made her way through the edge of the ballroom, with music playing and couples dancing in perfect synchronization with each other. She fell to one knee at the foot of the throne. The queen gave her a nod and then Vrine stepped forward.
"Is the princess ready?" Vrine asked.
"Madam Vrine, may I speak for a moment?"
"Come closer," Vrine said.
She came in closer to Vrine, something she hated to do, whispering. "Her highness is ready to be announced, but I fear I must tell you she has been drinking. She is not quite herself, and her voice is failing her from a fit of screaming and a slight cold."
"You allowed her to drink?" Vrine hissed angrily.
"I beg the queen's forgiveness. What can a lady-in-waiting do against such a strong-willed mistress? I assure you, she will look lovely, and she will do her best to hide her discomposure."
Homa backed away. Vrine pursed her lips and then leaned over the queen, whispering. The queen turned her angry eyes on Homa. Homa's head was bowed in apology.
"Bring her," the queen said, her voice shaking with anger.
"Immediately, your majesty," Homa whispered, disappearing.
"Welcome the prince and then announce the princess," the queen said to Vrine.
"Yes, your majesty," Vrine said.
Vrine went over to the steward, whispering to him. The steward flagged over Wellington, who was waiting, and then he scurried away to get his prince. The steward bowed his head toward the qu
een. And then she stood up from her throne. Her stature immediately stopped the music. The dancing couples separated to open up the floor. The steward stepped forward, his chin high and his head back.
"Thank you, guests of her majesty, Queen Friora, for waiting so patiently! We now welcome our guest of honor from the kingdom of Cross. He is the second-born prince of King Cross. To his name he is credited with slaying the beast of Grenhill, with marshalling the battle of Krenlien, and with discovering the ruins of Gasteel!"
"Did you her that, Wellington?" Court whispered as he waited to enter. "The beast of Grenhill? The beast was a crazy man wearing a bear skin. How embarrassing! And marshalling the attack of Krenlien? I was delivering orders from my father to my brother! How preposterous! And I did not discover the ruins of Gasteel. I found them by accident while stumbling around lost in the forest. How foolish! Wherever did they get such grand ideas?"
"Your highness, with all apologies, I told them."
"Oh, Wellington. You make me into something I am not."
"I make you into something they want, sir. Lower your mask. It is time."
"Please welcome, his highness," the steward called, "Prince Court Cornelius Cross of the Cross Kingdom!"
The doors opened and Court crossed into the ballroom, walking through the aisle created by the separated guests, meeting their applause and bowed heads, coming up to the throne. He took long defiant strides, not turning his head in either direction, his mask hiding his grimace from everyone. Perhaps this mask had its uses after all. When he reached the steps to the throne, he fell to one knee.
"Your majesty, I am honored to be welcomed into your kingdom. My father brings this gift to you." He held up a small wooden box between his hands. Vrine took it from him, climbing the steps, opening it to her queen. "It is the fang, dipped in gold, of the infamous dragon Smoke, a creature that was slain one hundred years ago. It represents the lives of a thousand men who died trying to defeat it and those who fell victim to its evils."
"A fine gift," the queen said, clearing her throat to keep down her cough. "I do so recall the stories of that legendary dragon plaguing the Cross kingdom, for it was even seen in our lands from time to time, and many say its offspring is the very dragon who has terrorized our good citizens until recently. Your gift is well received, as are you, Prince Cross. Rise and join me."
Cross climbed to his feet and ascended the stairs, standing beside the queen, looking out over the crowd.
"To our honored guest, Prince Cross," the queen said, "I do now present my daughter, with the interest of marriage."
The steward stepped forward again, lifting his chin even higher. "The kingdom does so proudly and so earnestly present to you our guests and to his highness, Prince Cross, the beloved flower of Castle Avelot, the beautiful, radiant, and charming Princess Celeste Friora Avelot!"
Everyone turned to the double doors as they opened. Cross was breathing heavily against his silver mask, his eyes sharp even as he began to see her between the cracked doors. It was the hair he noticed first: curly, golden locks spilling down her body. Her hair was stunning, more so than he expected it would be. It was a struggle just to take in the rest of her. She had a gold mask on, with a gold and white dress. The diamond too, around her neck, was radiant, outshined only by her tiara. Her body was, Cross admitted, beautiful, but it was not a beautiful body he wanted. It was freedom to do as he wanted to do. She could not give him that.
Sienna was trembling all over as she looked through the mask. Homa was watching from the back of the crowd, giving her nods of encouragement, but Sienna was on her own, with all these people, more than two hundred, staring at her, an imposter. She waited there between the doors for them to scream it out, for the guards to charge at her, throw her to the floor, drag her off to the gallows. She might have stayed there all night, waiting, but Homa waved her hand, as if for her to move.
Sienna took small steps forward. The announcement music was so loud it hurt her ears. She looked up to the balcony on either side of the ballroom. There were trumpet players on both sides. She pulled her eyes away, looking to the front of the long room. It kept going and going. This walk was taking forever, and the queen, the queen herself—well, who else was she expecting—was standing there with her hands folded, watching her like all the others. Surely, she could already tell this was not her daughter.
Vrine was off to the left, almost behind the throne, looking like a snake with eyes that warned she was always ready to strike. The steward was a short, thin man. He looked friendly, smiling, waiting for her to arrive at the other end of the ballroom. Halfway there now.
And then there was the prince. Homa had told her to expect him to be standing to the right. So this was the guy. He was tall, very broad in the shoulders, narrow at the waist. His black and silver suit did look very nice on him, complete with epaulettes on his shoulders and a sash across his chest. He had light brown hair, combed off to the side, but a few locks were fighting with him, falling over his silver mask. She imagined he was very handsome underneath. He would have to be. He was a prince. But thinking he was handsome only made this harder. She would just pretend he was not.
Sienna bowed at the waist when she reached the steps to the throne. Then she cleared her throat, hoping it would sell that she was sick, and whispered, "Thank you, my queen."
The queen raised her arm, inviting her daughter to step up the stairs and join her side. Sienna kept her head down to avoid eye contact. "Princess Celeste, allow me to present Prince Cross."
Wow, she was still alive. She had fooled the queen. She could not believe it. She bowed to the prince, repeating the words that Homa had told her to say. "Hello, Prince Cross. I am honored to meet your highness."
"The honor is mine, Princess Celeste."
Then the prince stepped forward, lifting his hand in invitation for hers. She was ready for that. Homa had told her he would kiss her hand. She surrendered it, sliding it into his, their skin touching for the first time. His palms were sweaty, just like hers. That was comforting somehow. Then he bowed at the waist, bringing his face to her hand, lifting his mask just enough to let his lips connect before pulling it back down. He stood up straight.
"The tales of your golden hair have not done you justice, your highness. You are even more stunning in person."
Sienna blushed under her mask. That was so nice of him to say, especially as it was her hair he was admiring, not Celeste's. "Thank you."
"Might I have the pleasure of a dance with your highness?"
"The pleasure is mine."
And now Sienna was out of things to say. Those were all the lines she had rehearsed. She was going to have to dance. Truly, she had not expected to survive this long. She was supposed to be dead, or at least in chains. Thinking ahead to the actual dancing part was an impossibility. She thought the queen would have seen through the façade. And now the prince was holding her hand, leading her out to the floor.
He bowed to her again. Why did he keep bowing? And he was holding it now. His head turned up at her. What did he want? Was she supposed to do something? Oh, bow back? She bowed back and he finally straightened up. Then she bristled as the music started. It was so loud! His hand was waiting for hers again. She grabbed it. He seemed confused but he straightened it out so her palm was resting in his, and then he took her by the waist. It felt uncomfortable being touched like that by a man. She placed her hand on his upper arm, ready to push him away if necessary. His head turned, glancing at her placement. And then he moved. She stumbled back with him, stepping on his toe. He cringed.
"Oh! Sorry!" she said.
"Quite all right, princess. I am a knight, and knights do not cry out."
He moved again, right into her. She was careful of his feet this time, but she stumbled back just the same.
"Sorry."
"Pardon me," he said, but he did it again, stepping right into her, large steps too. "Forgive me." And then he did it again. "Excuse me."
Why did he keep
apologizing and then doing it anyway? She was ready the next time, stepping backwards out of his way, but then he pulled her to the side and she had to shuffle to keep up. He seemed to get the idea that she did not know how to dance. He let out a quiet chuckle.
"Heh, are we a bit out of practice, your highness?"
"Sorry," she whispered. "I'm a little nervous."
He slowed his dancing. "Perhaps something slower."
And then he swayed from side to side. Sienna swayed with him. She could sway. Still, everyone was looking at her, the entire hall, some of them snickering and giggling to themselves, a few more whispering. She looked around, searching for Homa, but she could not find her in the sea of masks. She looked up at the queen instead. It was worse. She was glaring, her lips pinched together so tightly they were white. Then the queen motioned to the steward and he clapped. Upon his clap, the couples around the floor joined the dance, obscuring her terrible moves from view.
"Allow me to say how pleased I am to have met you, Princess Celeste," Court said.
"The pleasure is mine, Prince Cross," Sienna said. "Or should I just call you Court?"
He laughed behind his mask. "Do you wish to call me Court?"
"Sure. We're both royalty. We should be on a first name basis. You can call me Celeste if you want, I mean, if you are pleased to call me Celeste."
Another laugh. Was she this amusing? "Very well, Celeste. Please call me Court."
"Great, Court," she said.
She felt a little more comfortable with him now. Still, she kept glancing around at all the dancing couples. They were so skilled, twirling each other, moving around. Every couple looked like they knew what they were doing. Their moves even matched one another's, as if they had all gotten together as a group beforehand and discussed exactly what they would be doing. Well, they had forgotten to invite her!
"Everyone here dances so well, don't they?"
"Yes. Do you enjoy dance?"
"Sure, I think dancing is nice," Sienna said. "I don't really do it often though. Do you?"
"Not often, no. But of course, I'm sure you've had hours and hours of lessons, whether you wanted them or not."