by Aya Ling
Edward is pacing in our suite when I enter. Once I step into the room, the tenseness in his face immediately melts into relief. He gestures to Amelie with a flick of his fingers, which seems to say get out, but it’s not enough. When Amelie shuts the door behind her, Edward locks it.
“Kat.” Anger seems to simmer within him. There’s no trace of his affectionate manner nor his flirtatious tone. “Where have you been?”
Irritation, prickly and uncomfortable, threatens to rear its head. Another time I might have been cooperative, but I’m still annoyed that I failed to return home from the chapel, and since he is the main source of my frustration, I cross my arms and glare at him.
“Stop interrogating me like I’m a convicted murderer, Your Highness. I thought I was your wife, not a servant in your employment.”
“Do you have any idea how worried I was when I came back from a grueling meeting and found you gone?”
The harshness of his tone both surprises and vexes me even more—he makes it sound like I’m five years old. I was in a carriage with a coachman, and the chapel was only about ten minutes’ drive from the palace. I wonder what he’ll say if I tell him that back in America, I passed through shady neighborhoods and encountered mentally unstable people on the subway or in the grocery store.
“I . . . I left a note on the desk.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“Maybe it got blown to the floor.” I usually have the windows open since the temperature has been going up. It’s early summer, and it’s getting more and more uncomfortable wearing a chemise, a corset, and a dress every day.
He takes a step toward me and I automatically back away, which seems to annoy him further.
“I asked you a question, Kat. Where have you been?”
“Oh, so am I in a military camp now? Do I have to report to you every time I go out?”
Edward levels an intense stare at me. “If you keep being this stubborn, then I forbid you to leave the palace. In the case of an event requiring your presence, Bertram or I will accompany you. Or both of us.”
“What?” I’m completely flabbergasted. Grounding me as though I’m a kid? “You can’t be serious!”
“It is not a decision I would like to make, but without mutual trust, I cannot have you disappearing without notice. You are my wife, Kat, and I intend to keep you here with me. Whatever it takes.”
His eyes are feverish and flashing, his tone agitated. There’s a wildness in his manner. It appears as though he’d go crazy if he doesn’t know where I am. For a brief moment, I wonder if the madness in his grandfather’s genes was passed down to him—maybe just a little, but it’s enough to make me flinch.
Nevertheless, my anger is also stirred up. What kind of man is he to keep me confined within the palace like the animals in the menagerie? I thought his attitude toward me was liberal (for the standards of an Athelian male), but it looks like I was wrong. If Jason dared to make me stay indoors and not go out unless accompanied, I’d dump him in an instant.
“If you treat me like a prisoner, I guarantee once Krev appears, I won’t hesitate to leave with him.”
I might as well have struck him with the heavy vase on the mantelpiece. Shock, swiftly followed by fury, radiates from him. He takes another step toward me, and I realize he’s backed me into a corner. What is he going to do to me?
Tension—thick, stifling, scary tension—stretches between us. I stare at him defiantly, but my palms have grown sweaty. An image of Dad yelling at Mom a few days before they filed their divorce flashes in my mind. My fear must have shown in my face, for Edward suddenly turns away. His shoulders slump and his clenched fists have relaxed.
“It’s getting late,” he finally says. “Get dressed for dinner.”
And he vanishes into the study, leaving me staring at the door of my bedroom. It’s the first time we’ve quarreled. Maybe I should apologize for refusing to be honest with him. But then I’d have to tell him the reason I went to the cathedral, and I don’t want to imagine his reaction.
There is a reason why the Grimms’ fairy tales rarely tell us what happens after the prince and princess get married. Life after marriage is never fairytale-ish.
* * *
The king and queen sense that something is wrong. Of course. No matter how much we pretend, the quarrel has soured our minds and made us unnecessarily stiff and formal during mealtimes. Even Edward, who is generally good at faking it, cannot escape his parents’ scrutiny this time. At night, when he still instructs me in Athelian culture and customs, his tone is indifferent, his look devoid of affection, and never once does he flirt.
I admit that I miss the way he looks at me like I’m the only girl on the planet, which only makes me frustrated with myself. When Edward was the perfect husband and lover, I felt burdened by his attention. Now that he’s cool and detached, I feel deprived. All I can do is keep up a smiling facade, but I hate to say that I prefer Edward doting on me rather than not.
Although he behaves like a casual friend to me, Edward shows no sign of giving me up. Since we quarreled, he has been guarding me like a hawk. And it’s not just Edward. Amelie, Mabel and Bertram also seem to watch me whenever I leave our suite or when I leave the table after a meal. I don’t know if Edward told them to keep an extra eye on me, but I do know that it’s getting on my nerves.
I try to occupy myself with the letter-writing and books from the library. I did think about going back to the chapel, but I’d rather wait until the storm has passed. I’m not afraid of Edward, but it’s best to avoid unpleasantness, especially when the servants also sense the tension between us.
“Not this dress,” I say one day when Mabel brings out an off-shoulder pastel blue gown from my wardrobe, which is large enough to accommodate an elephant. “That neckline is way too low. And what’s with that decanter on the dresser?”
“I . . . I think His Highness wouldn’t mind.” Mabel sounds nervous, but she clings to the blue dress like it’s worth a million. “Amelie and I thought that he might soften up if you wear this and offer him a glass. Bertram told us His Highness was happier since he met you, but it’s been days and he hasn’t cracked a smile.”
I sigh. “It’s not that simple. He won’t be appeased just because of a dress.”
“But he adores you,” Mabel insists, her round face the personification of earnestness. “Surely, he’d prefer to kiss and make up?”
In the end, I give in, but on the condition that I wear a silken wrap as well. Mabel concedes, but she makes me promise I’ll take off the wrap once Edward and I are alone.
Amelie arrives a moment after Mabel finishes arranging my hair. As a married woman, I’m supposed to keep my hair up all the time. Only my husband or parents can have the ‘privilege’ of seeing me with my hair down.
“Miss Elle would like to see you.”
Elle. The real Cinderella. Oh, my God. I’m going to meet the character I’ve read about in The Ugly Stepsister, the girl Katriona tried to push toward the prince, but who ended up falling for the prince’s cousin. “Show her in.”
A lovely girl enters the study. Curly, honey-blonde hair and large, baby blue eyes. Smooth, unblemished skin the color of cream. A face as sweet as a pink rose. She’s wearing a simple white dress, and apart from a silver pendant on her throat, she doesn’t have any jewelry or accessories. Yet her hands look rough and calloused.
“Hi,” I say a bit nervously, wondering how I used to greet her when I was seventeen. “Nice . . . er . . . lovely to see you today.”
Elle blossoms into a smile, which makes her look so pretty that I can see why Henry fell for her, even when she was a servant. “Henry was invited to the palace today, so I thought I’d come along and have a chat with you.”
“Henry is also here?”
“He’s meeting His Highness today about a Food and Drugs Act.” Elle glows as she speaks. Her affection for Henry must have grown deeper than depicted in the book. “Henry wants to ensure that our staple foods a
re safe to consume, so he suggested several bans, such as the use of red lead in coffee and ground glass in sugar. It’s a pity that he’s so busy that he can’t continue teaching at the school.”
Since when did Henry become a teacher? I must look blank, for Elle adds, “Didn’t you know that Henry resigned his position? We had to place an ad for applications.”
“Oh, of course,” I lie and slap my hand on my forehead. “I completely forgot.”
“We hope to replace him soon, but I’m afraid the girls have grown attached to him.” Elle sighs. “Speaking of the school, Miss Cavendish mentioned to me that she wants to hold a meeting, probably next month. I’ll see you then, if not sooner.”
My heart sinks. I don’t even know who this Miss Cavendish is. I’ll have to ask Edward to tell me more about this school I’m running, but if it’s my job, I’m not sure how much he knows.
“Um, sure.”
Elle’s forehead puckers, and she gives me a once-over. Unlike Edward’s gaze, which is usually filled with warmth and desire, hers is critical and appraising.
“Is everything all right with you, Kat?” She says, looking concerned. “To be honest, you sound similar to that day when you fell down the stairs and couldn’t remember anything.”
Oh no. She knows, or at least she suspects.
“I’m fine,” I say firmly. “It’s just a bit . . . overwhelming. Being married.”
Elle gives me a sympathetic look. “I suppose there is a difference when everything is official. But I’m sure if you have any difficulties, His Highness will be happy to help. He is one of the kindest men I’ve met. When he offered me a job in the gardens, he was ever so patient with me. Never once did I have a cross word from him.”
For some inexplicable reason, I feel slightly jealous when imagining Edward instructing her in gardening, but I banish the thought. Stop being an idiot, Kat. There’s nothing between Edward and Elle, and even if there were, I’m planning to go home anyway.
“We’re holding the interviews for Henry’s replacement next week,” Elle continues. “Would you like to come and join us?”
I decline as politely as I can. For one thing, I’m not sure if Edward will let me leave the palace. For another, I still can’t remember anything of my past. It’d be risky if I went to this school that I have no recollection of.
Feeling worried, I do my best to curtail Elle’s visit, lest she blab to other people that I’ve lost my memories again. I hate making myself urge her to leave—she’s been nothing but kind and friendly—but I can’t risk it. For the umpteenth time, I wish I’d never arrived in this storybook world.
16
“The king and queen request an attendance with you,” Amelie informs me one morning, as she laces me into a harebell blue dress with a square neckline and white ruffles on the skirts. Elegant, refined, and respectable. Trust Amelie to pick the most appropriate outfit according to my schedule. “You are to report to the king’s receiving chamber after breakfast.”
Uh-oh. I have an ominous instinct that I’m not going to like this conversation. So far, from the daily routine of sharing breakfast (and sometimes lunch and dinner) with Edward’s parents, they have treated me with kindness and concern. But if this is going to be about my quarrel with Edward…it’d be much easier that they were indifferent. Like, they should have more important things to worry about than their son’s married life.
On the other hand, part of me is gratified that my in-laws care about Edward and I. They’re willing to accept me, an outspoken girl who defies Athelian rules, just because Edward loves me. They didn’t try to force Edward to marry some other aristocratic lady who’d fulfill traditional expectations, like Bianca or Claire.
The king’s receiving chamber is located next to his suite that he shares with the queen. It’s magnificently furnished in the crimson-gold theme of the palace, with four upholstered chairs sitting on a carpeted dais, and several other smaller chairs forming a semi-circle in front of the dais. When I arrive, King Leon and Queen Isolde are already sitting on the upholstered chairs, conversing in low voices.
“Katriona.” The king gestures me to come forward, then snaps his fingers at the servant who brought me, telling him to close the door.
The queen smiles and pats the chair next to her. “Over here, Katriona.” When I hesitate, she adds, “You’re officially princess now. Your seat is here with us.”
I sit down gingerly and fold my hands in my lap, adhering to what Edward had taught me of Athelian customs. “Father. Mother.” The words come out more naturally than I expected, and for which I’m glad. I’m supposed to have lived at the palace for a year by now, so it’s no longer awkward for me to call the king and queen as family.
“I suppose you’re wondering why we summoned you to the receiving chamber…or maybe not.” The queen observes my face closely; I make myself meet her eye for a moment before looking away. “Normally Leon and I would rather not pry into your affairs, but it seems that this…lack of harmony between you and Edward, seems to be lasting longer than we presumed.”
There’s a tightness in the king’s face as he speaks. “It is reported that you had an argument yesterday afternoon, and it ended with you slamming the door on him.”
I dig my nails into my palm as I remember how it went. I was feeling bad that I missed Paige’s graduation. I wanted to go for a stroll in the gardens, when I met Edward in the corridor. After learning where I planned to go, he had signaled to Bertram, indicating that I be followed. Frustrated at being watched every time I leave the suite, I had told him bitingly that I’m not his prisoner and retreated to my room.
“Katriona.” The king’s voice contains a harsh intonation, but I’m sure it would be even harsher were I not his daughter-in-law. “I do not know what it is that happened between you two, nor do I wish to ask unless necessary, but let me remind you that as part of the royal family, you have a role to play. I would highly recommend that you refrain from having a disagreement in public.”
“What he means is that we are supposed to set an example for our people,” the queen says, in a gentler tone. “As much as we’d like to maintain a private life that’s free from inquisitive eyes, such is not our lot. You must learn to conduct your speech and behavior with the constant reminder that people are watching.”
“I’m sorry.” I bite my lip. I know it’s unseemly for me to shout at Edward in the corridor.
“Of course we cannot expect you to be on amiable terms all the time, but whenever you come close to a conflict, please remember to keep it behind closed doors.” The king lets out a sigh. “My father had a bitter relationship with his wife, and took mistress after mistress during his reign. My mother did not take it kindly and they would often have shouting matches in the palace.”
“It is only part of the reason why the late king was highly unpopular,” the queen says. “Still, the public was much appalled by the nastiness in the royal family, and Leon was careful to ensure that we project a model of conjugal felicity.”
If they had tried to instill these principles in Edward since he was a child, no wonder he’s so repressed. It’s likely that his emotions had been so frequently kept in check that he found my liberal outlook both attractive and appealing.
“You are an intelligent girl.” The king directs me an intense look that reminds me of Edward. “I do not doubt that you have understood the meaning of this meeting, and that we may expect that this incident between you and Edward will not occur again.”
But we’re not machines. I can’t flip a switch and suddenly everything is magically repaired. The best I can do is to think before I speak, and make sure that I won’t manifest any negative feelings when there are servants around.
“I’ll try.”
King Leon pats my hand; the sternness in his eyes has disappeared and he looks more like a fatherly figure now. “Remember that you are Athelia’s princess, my dear. A royal marriage is different and more difficult to maintain. Which reminds me—Isolde, you
were talking of bringing Kat to the court presentation tomorrow?”
The presentation. For me, it brings up one of the most memorable scenes in The Ugly Stepsister—the heroine falling on her butt in front of the queen, when she discovers the hot guy she had met is actually the prince.
The queen places a hand on my arm. “Katriona, I would like to ask that you accompany me to the presentation and learn how to receive the debutantes. I may need you to stand in for me sometimes. And besides, this will be your duty when you become queen.”
More royal duties. I’m being drawn further and further away from the life I once knew, whether I like it or not, and pulled deeper and deeper into this web of courtly manners and celebrity status. Me, ordinary Katherine Wilson who worked in a coffee shop, becoming Princess Katriona of a large and flourishing country.
This can’t be happening. But as I leave the receiving chamber and a pair of liveried servants bow to me, I decide that I need to re-adjust my mindset or I’d be perpetually miserable. I need to adapt to royal life and prepare myself for the possibility that Krev may never show up. Going back to my own world is no longer a necessity, but an option.
17
Even though I no longer have to work on walking backward with a long train, I am still required to appear in full regalia for the court presentation. The dress is made of ruby velvet and white satin, trimmed with golden lace and bows. It would have been lovely if there wasn’t a huge metal hoop—they call it a crinoline—under the dress, making me feel like a walking balloon. I also have to wear this heavy necklace of gold and beads, which causes a strain on my neck, and a glittering crown is jammed on my head. Amelie attaches golden pins around the crown, as I’m afraid that it might fall off.
“I know that it cannot be comfortable,” the queen says, watching me walk like a robot. “But the presentation is an ornate ceremony with years of tradition, and it is required that we appear in formal wear.”