by M. K. Dawn
Privacy means nothing to them. I learned very early on that if I wanted alone time I had to lock my door, because they came in and out of my room without so much as a warning knock. And the worst part, they are here twenty-four seven, waiting on me hand and foot, as if I were an infant incapable of taking care of myself. It drives me insane. They never speak to each other, never answer any personal questions that I ask about them. They come in and out all day, cleaning up, laying out clothes for me, and bringing me things that I never asked for. After days of this, I’d had enough. So before I left for breakfast, I sent them away, telling them to take the morning off, that I wanted to rest before the coronation tonight. But really, I just wanted them to leave me alone for a few hours.
Now, not even three hours later, they are back, bustling around the room.
“We have been instructed that it’s time for you to start getting ready, my lady,” Gia, the oldest, says as she enters my bathroom to begin running a bath. The smell of lavender fills the room. I take a deep breath, letting the scent course through my body. It’s a familiar smell, one I have always loved but can never place. Maybe after tonight, when my memories are returned, I will be able to. I shoo them out, determined to take my bath in privacy. Stripping off my clothes, I throw them in the laundry basket, and sink into the claw tub. With a deep breath, I allow myself to truly relax for the first time in a month.
I don’t know how long I stayed in there, it could have been hours for all I know. At one point I heard a knock at the door, but chose to ignore it. When the water grows cold, and my hands and feet look to have aged about sixty years, I figure it's time to get out. As I stand up and reach for my towel the girls come storming in. I want to be shocked as I stand there naked and dripping wet, but this isn't the first time they have walked in on me like this. It's almost become a habit. Ella wraps a warm white cotton robe around my still wet body and a heated towel around my hair, as Gia helps me out of the tub.
They lead me to the vanity and have me sit on the stool facing away from the mirror. Gia applying a light coat of makeup, similar to the stuff that Shae gave me. She works fast and, when done, turns me around so I can look at her work in the mirror. She’s an artist. Never have I seen makeup applied so perfectly. She knows the perfect hue to accent my high cheek bones and make my light brown eyes dance in the light. I almost look like my old self again, with the exception of a few pink scars from my encounter with Kakos. They serve as a reminder of who I really am.
Gia removes the towel from my head, then pulls my still damp hair into a loose bun. With a comb, she releases a few strands around my face and neck. From a long box, she removes a thin metal looking cylinder, runs her hands along it and it turns red. “I went to the human realm once when I was much younger, before the war, and walked by a beauty parlor. I watched in astonishment as all these women sat with huge things in their hair. Then when the things were removed, their hair was so beautiful, wavy, and full,” she says, as she dries and curls the loose strands of my hair. “When I discovered my gift was the earth element, I decided to use it to make others as beautiful as the women I saw that day. Of course, with no electricity here, human curling tools were out of the question. But all that was really needed was fire, which is coursing through all of us, and metal, which I have a natural gift with.” It was the most I had heard her talk all week. “I think it worked out okay. What do you think?” she asks.
“It's perfect.” My compliment evoking a smile on her pretty face. “Thank you.”
While Gia was working on me, Ella had prepared my dress and undergarment for the evening. They turn as I strip off the robe and slip on my panties and bra, which are both lacy and white and very much see through. A little skankier than I would have thought for a queen, but what do I know. When I’m as decent as I can be, they help me into my mother’s gown, careful as if their touch might taint it somehow. The shoes placed at my feet match the dress right down to the silk lace. As I go to slip into them, I gasp when I notice the Louboutin red bottoms.
“Most fashion icons are Nysian,” Gia says. “Our work here is done.”
Without another word, they bow and leave the room.
Alone once more, I make my way to the full-length mirror. The girl that stares back at me is stunning, from her hair down to her Louboutin. I stand there for a while, not sure why I can’t pull my eyes away from the reflection. I have always been a girly girl. My love of clothes and shoes had dragged me to the mall almost every weekend. But this feels wrong, in a way I can’t explain. This girl, this princess, this queen isn't me. The doubt that had filled my mind before comes flooding back. The whisper in the back of my head starts screaming at me to run away, this isn't right, this isn't you.
My vision blurs, as a panic attack hits full force. I can’t breathe. With the help of the bed, I lower myself to the floor and gasp for air. All of the questions that have plagued me since I arrived start filling my head. What if they are mistaken? What if the prophecy isn’t about me at all? My head feels light, my vision goes black. Just as I’m about to pass out, Brady is there, pulling me to my feet.
“Alaina, what happened? Are you okay?” he asks. “I knocked and when you didn’t answer, I thought...”
I hadn’t even heard the knock. Hearing his voice, feeling his arms wrapped around me allows my heart rate to steady and my breathing to even out.
“I’m sorry. I was looking at myself, in this dress, and it just felt so … so wrong.” It’s the only word I can think of to describe it. “Like it doesn’t belong to me. I can’t explain it. I just thought that when I put it on, I would feel closer to her. Like a part of me would be revealed, a memory of her. But there’s nothing. I feel nothing for this woman that raised me, loved me, for eleven years! It doesn’t make sense. Maybe Eric was wrong, maybe everyone is wrong about me.” My breath grows ragged as the panic attack tries to materialize once more.
“Alaina… Alaina.” I look up at him through watery eyes. “It’s going to be okay. I know this is scary, but once you’re crowned, your memories will be returned. You are strong and brave and the most amazing woman I have ever known. I believe in you.” He cups my face as his thumbs wipe away my tears.
His touch sends a wave of heat rushing through my body. Our eyes hold each other’s, speaking all the words we both know can never be said out loud. He leans in, his lips touching mine ever-so-slightly. My breath shudders at the brief contact and he smiles. I raise my hand slowly as if any sudden movements will scare him away. Running my hand through his hair, I tug on his head and bring his lips to mine, igniting the spark between us that is always present.
A knock at the door causes us both to jump back. Brady lets go of me so suddenly I almost fall forward. He smirks at my clumsiness as he strolls over to open the door.
Eric comes in, cleanly shaven, much different from his usual scruffy self. “It’s time. You ready?”
I stare blankly at him, trying to make out the words he just said.
Time and ready are the only ones that stick out. I know he’s waiting for me to answer, but my lips can't seem to form the words.
“Alaina?” He glances between Brady and myself.
Not quite snapping out of it, I manage to get out the words, “Yeah, of course.”
“Good, because for a minute there, I thought we’d lost you.” He gives me his arm and I loop mine in.
I glance back at Brady, expecting him to give that smile he always does when I’m about to do something I’m unsure of. But in its place, is something else; fear, worry, concern? I mouth the word ‘what’. He looks as if he is going to speak but closes his mouth and smiles, a smile that doesn't quite touch his eyes.
Then I’m whisked away towards the ballroom. The time has come for me to take my rightful place on the throne, and I am downright terrified.
Chapter Thirty
Alaina
“Guests have been waiting for hours, hoping to get a glimpse of the girl who is prophesized to save them all,” Eric t
eases, as we walk down the main staircase.
“Who are they?” I ask, uncomfortable with the idea of people just standing around waiting for me all day.
“Most are people who came here from Kardia after our kingdom was attacked. Prince Henry’s father was gracious enough to take them all in. Then you have Henry’s family and counsel. Others are local. Others have come from far away.”
“Why didn't people stay in Kardia? Try and rebuild, instead of fleeing?” It's a question that has been bothering me for a time now, though I don't know why I choose right now to ask.
“Several reasons, I guess. Without a royal family, there was no one to rule. Our army was almost wiped out, so there was no one there to protect it. Wright has made it more than clear that supporters of Kardia will be dealt with without mercy. That threat alone was enough to cause people to flee.”
“Will we return?”
“Of course. Once this war is over and Wright and his army are defeated. Then we will return and you will rule from the throne your father once sat on. But this is not the time to worry about it. You just need to focus on being crowned queen.” He stops at the door of the ballroom and faces me. “When the ceremony is over, come and find me. I will explain everything.”
Just as I am about to ask him what that is supposed to mean, the doors are thrown open and I’m escorted into the ballroom. The room falls silent as the guests stand and bow. All attention is on me, but the only thing I notice is how beautiful the ballroom is decorated. Just a few days ago it had been a war room, filled with strategic maps adorned with blue and red pieces representing ‘us vs. them’. Scruffy men sat around these tables and argued about the next move. And now, it was magical. I stand there for a moment, taking in the magnificence of it all. Glorious chandeliers hang around the room, creating a feeling of twilight. The tables are draped in lace, almost identical to that on my dress. Light pink long-stemmed roses center each table, surrounded by exquisite china place settings, ready for the feast that awaits.
“My lady,” someone speaks, breaking the spell, this room has on me. Henry bows his head as he holds his hand out waiting for me to take it. Outwardly, he is beautiful as always, so much so that I would be nervous around him. That is, if I hadn’t gotten to know him so well and knew what a big ass he is. My instincts tell me to get as far away from him as I can, but I take his hand anyway. The wave of nausea I have come to expect when I touch him turns my stomach. As he leads me through the crowd, we smile and nod, acknowledging those who braved the storm to attend my coronation. Brady weaves through the crowd looking at me with such intensity it takes my breath away. My mind wanders to the kiss we shared in my bedroom, our last kiss. That thought alone brings with it unbearable heartache. I shift, forcing myself to push those feelings aside and remember that Brady’s life depends on us staying away from each other, at least in that way. I must honor my betrothal to Henry, no matter how much I dislike it.
“You okay?” Henry whispers, never once taking his eyes off the crowd.
“Yes, just nervous,” I lie, stealing one more glimpse at Brady. Henry catches the direction of my glance and his face tenses.
I think he is going to say something about him but then changes the subject. “You know, you are going to have to say something when we get to our table.”
“What?” No one told me I was going to have to talk tonight.
“Don’t worry. Something as simple as ‘Thank you all for coming. Please relax and enjoy the evening’s festivities’, will suffice.”
Eric is going to get an earful when this is over. As my royal advisor, he should have warned me.
At last, we arrive at our table, after walking for what felt like forever. I replay the words Henry told me over and over in my head knowing that once we get to this point I’m going to be expected to open my mouth and say something. We face the crowd, silencing the room. All eyes are on me, everyone waiting for something magical to come out of my mouth, but my mind goes blank. I stand there like a complete idiot, willing my mouth to open, to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. People begin to look around, no doubt wondering what the hell is wrong with their savior.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice that is not mine says, “Apparently, your overwhelming support has rendered our queen-to-be speechless.” Henry’s voice booms around the room. Everyone laughs and applause erupts, allowing me to relax ever so slightly. He has put them at ease, which surprises me because I have only ever seen him have the opposite effect on people.
Again, I spot Brady, hanging out a few feet from the platform our table sits upon. He smiles that encouraging smile and puts me at ease. I take a deep breath. “Thank you all so much for coming and supporting my family through this time of war. Please, relax and enjoy the evening’s festivities.”
Where did that come from? After another round of applause, conversation picks up and the band begins to play. Appetizers and wine are brought out and distributed around the room. I make sure to take it slow with the wine, not wanting a repeat of the feast. By the time dinner is brought out, I’m feeling somewhat buzzed, but nothing food can’t fix.
We feast on stuffed quail, roasted potatoes, and sautéed vegetables. Not as good as the chicken nuggets with mac and cheese would have been, but still very good. Dessert is strawberry cheesecake, the one suggestion of mine that was actually used.
After eating, we again walk through the crowd, this time having actual conversations with people. Eric walks beside me, deflecting questions that I can’t or he doesn’t want me answering. Most of them are the same ones I have had floating around in my head.
A while later Eric leans in and whispers, “It’s time.”
Henry leads me onto the now empty stage, as the crowd takes their seats once more. Behind us, an old man follows. The room quiets and all eyes focus on the priest from Hagion who is to perform the ceremony.
“Bring forth the offerings for the Gods.” People from all around the room stand and begin bringing items with them, laying them on the stage in front of the priest.
“Come forth, my child.” He waves me forward.
Just as he begins to perform the ancient ceremony, the storm hits full force. The wind picks up and then lightning with thunder so powerful that it shakes the castle walls hits, sends small bits of rocks crashing towards the floor. People scream. Poseidon's name is called out more than once as thunder rattles the castle again.
Something’s not right; I can feel it. I search the room, desperate to find those blue eyes that have given me so much comfort this past month. Instead, I see Eric frantically talking with someone I have never seen before. They both look at the big wooden doors that lead to the courtyard.
Panic wells inside me as I look to my left to see someone is bringing out my mother’s crown, the one I had tried on weeks ago. The priest takes it while speaking in a language that I do not understand.
The room silences again, but the storm rages on. This is the moment everyone has been praying for, the moment the prophecy comes true.
He picks up the crown and heads toward me. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that, at the very least, this will be the moment of truth.
Chapter Thirty-One
Alaina
Just as I bend down so the crown can be placed upon my head, the large wooden doors, the ones Eric was watching so closely, swing open sending a gust of wind through the room so strong that it knocks over centerpieces and sends glasses shattering to the ground. People duck, trying to avoid being cut by the flying glass.
When the wind dies down, a horde of soldiers parade in with weapons drawn, ready for a fight. My soldiers appear out of nowhere, rushing towards them in attempts to hold them back. People scream at the sight of drawn weapons, running to exits, trying to escape. It's complete chaos. In an instant, Henry steps in front of me, sword drawn. The warriors show up a second later and surround me. “Protect the Queen!” someone yells. But I'm not the queen, the crown was never placed on my head.
&nb
sp; “Enough!” a woman yells, her voice echoing throughout the large room. People freeze and the room falls still. All eyes are on the door and the army that just crashed my party. As the woman makes her way through the crowd, people gasp. I recognize her immediately. Her portrait has been haunting me all week.
Henry bows and the warriors part, leaving me in full view of Queen Sabrin and her wrath.
“This woman is an imposter,” she declares. “This is not your princess, your queen.” She motions behind her and a woman my age emerges. “This is my daughter, Princess Lane. How dare you stand there pretending to be her?” she spits out.
Everything happens so fast, I don't have time to think. The horror of the deception overtakes the room like a plague. It’s all been a lie, just as I feared it would be. Eric has been lying to me this entire time. I spot him in the crowd and see the truth in his eyes. He looks ashamed, but I don't care. I hate him.
All eyes are on me again, this time out of anger. I can feel the panic within trying to take over. They think I have deceived them so that I can take the crown. What they don't know, what they won't believe, is that I have been deceived as well. The queen approaches the stage, victory shining in her eyes. I back away, knowing that the penalty for impersonating a royal will be severe.
“Warriors, this woman has been fooling you. As your queen, I demand that you take her into custody at once.”
They turn to face me, conflict wearing hard on their faces. Except for Brady. When I turn to face him, he mouths the word ‘run’.
I don't hesitate, I don't look back, I run, just as I have been doing my whole life. I make my way through the castle, crashing into people and knocking things over, but I don’t dare stop. Pushing open the rearmost door, I dart into the now hurricane strength storm. The winds whip around me, the rain blurs my vision, still, I run.
When I hit the edge of the cliff, I collapse, staring off into the violent water below. Any strength that I have left is used to keep myself from being torn off the cliff into the icy grave beneath me. Rain has soaked my gown. No - not my gown - hers.