The Princess in the Opal Mask

by Jenny Lundquist

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Elara enters the inn by herself. She wears the painted white mask with lavender opals and a lavender gown. Her hair is tied back in purple ribbons, and a thick jeweled brace-let I don’t recognize is clasped at her wrist.

  Standing so close to her, I think I now understand why it seemed so difficult for people to know me. With the painted mask and all the jewels, it is a little like staring at a ghostly doll come to life.

  “You look well,” I say, holding out her satchel. “You seem to have adjusted rather quickly to being a princess.”

  “I haven’t had a choice, have I?” she snaps, dropping her formal tone and snatching the satchel. She grabs my arm. “Come away from the window. Are you mad, declaring yourself like that? He’s seen my face.”

  “I’m sorry. I only meant to—” I stop, as the rest of her words register. “Who has seen your face?”

  “Stefan. And a couple of Kyrenican guards, though neither of them are here now.”

  “So then . . . the crown prince knows who you are?” I pause and swallow. I cannot bring myself to ask my other question. Just how angry is he?

  Elara looks at me, blinking. “Has the ocean air addled your brain? He thinks I’m you, obviously.”

  “How can that be? Garwyn and the other guards in the city are searching for me.” I pause. “I thought you sent them after me.”

  “No, they’re searching for me,” she says with a harsh look in her eyes. “Ezebo sent them after he heard how your maid escaped into the city. Lord Quinlan arrived a few days ago in Korynth and added a few of his men to the search.” She laughs bitterly. “He said I’m a threat to the monarchy and can’t be allowed to wander the streets.”

  “But that can’t be right,” I say. “Garwyn and—”

  “Oh, what does it matter?” Elara glances outside. “We haven’t much time. I can’t do this much longer, Wilha. I can’t be you. If you don’t want to be you, that’s your choice. But I can’t go on pretending. Stefan is already suspicious. Sooner or later he is going to catch me in a lie.”

  “What is he like?” I can’t help but ask. “Prince Stefan, I mean.”

  “He’s fine,” she snaps, sounding annoyed. “But don’t change the subject. This can’t go on, Wilha. You need to decide what you want. Are you ever planning to return to the castle?”

  “Do you want me to come back?” I ask. “I’ve seen you, on the balcony, and I’ve wondered if, well . . .” I don’t finish the thought, but I think Elara understands what I mean.

  “Why in the world would I ever want to be you?” Scorn drips from her words. “I’ll ask you one last time, are you coming back?”

  I glance out the window, at the crowd straining behind the line of guards, just waiting to catch a glimpse of Elara. Of me. I shake my head. Neither of us, really. They just want to see a girl in a mask and a beautiful dress. My gaze fixes on Elara’s mask.

  “I don’t want to be her,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be the Masked Princess.”

  Elara’s voice softens, but only a little. “That’s not who you are.”

  “That is all anyone has ever cared about,” I say.

  “But that’s not your real name. Do you know what Lord Murcendor told me before we left Allegria? He said the king and queen didn’t bother to name me before they sent me away.” The mask cannot cover the brief flash of pain I read in her eyes. “At least you have a name.”

  “I’m sorry.” I swallow. “That is unforgiveable.”

  Elara says nothing. She is waiting for me to make a decision.

  “What if I say no?”

  Her gaze narrows. “Then I’m leaving the first chance I get. But you know what will happen if the Masked Prin-cess disappears.”

  I close my eyes and I hear my father’s voice. Be a good girl, Wilha. Be a good princess. Kingdoms need someone to believe in. Let them believe in you.

  “I will,” I say in a hushed voice.

  “What did you say?” comes Elara’s irritated voice.

  I open my eyes and look straight at her. “I said yes. I will switch back.”

  “When?” she asks. “I need a definite time. When can we switch back? Tonight?”

  I think of all the orders we still have to fill at Galina’s and how I promised her I would stay up all night sewing, if she would just let me sneak away for a picnic with James.

  “Not tonight,” I answer. “Tomorrow night, at the masquerade. It will be easiest to make the switch then.”

  “I’m assuming you can get into the castle through the passageway?” she asks coolly.

  I nod. “There is an entrance near the sea. I will enter the castle through there. Then I will find you, and we will switch back.”

  “How do I know you’ll keep your word? How do I know you won’t run away again?” Elara asks.

  “I said I will be there,” I answer, tamping down a flood of frustration. “I swear it.”

  “Good,” she says crisply, gathering up her dress. “It’s too bad I didn’t know we would be meeting today,” she adds. “Otherwise I would have brought your letter.” Her voice is carefully casual.

  “What letter?”

  “From Patric,” she says, and my heart quickens at the sound of his name. “He was your trainer, wasn’t he? He sent you a letter; I have it in the castle.” Elara looks at me, and I read the calculation in her eyes. “I guess you’ll have to wait to read it until you return.” She turns to leave. “Until the masquerade.”

  I nod and curtsy for the benefit of the guards in case they are watching through the windows. Elara opens the door. A gust of ocean air fills the room, along with the shouts and cheers of people calling out to the Masked Princess.

  When the door closes again, I am left with nothing but a chilling silence.

  CHAPTER 47

  ELARA

  How do you say good-bye to a life that was never your own? What do you take with you, and what do you leave behind?

  I spread a few trinkets out on my bed, including a seashell Ruby gave me and a ribbon from a merchant in the city. On the bed too, are my dagger and the book from my mother.

  I pick up the book and turn it over. Whenever I think of my mother it is still the vague image of a red-haired woman that I picture. Not Astrid the Regal. I can’t bring myself to think of her as anything more than the dead queen who refused to name me.

  I open the book and flip through a few pages. I can’t help but wonder, if Eleanor Andewyn hadn’t discovered Gal-andria’s opals so many centuries ago, hadn’t dropped the First Opal on her coronation day and it hadn’t split in two, where would I be right now, at this very minute?

  If Wilha and I had been born into any other family—one who viewed twins as a blessing, instead of a curse—how different would our lives have been?

  As I continue examining the book, I notice something I haven’t before. In the middle of the book, a few of the pages have been punctured with tiny pin pricks. How did I miss this before? It’s almost as though someone deliberately—

  “Your Highness?” interrupts Milly’s voice from the sitting room. She knocks on my door. “I’m here to help you get ready for the masquerade. It’s getting a bit late.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I call out to her.

  Quickly, I shut the book and toss it onto the writing desk. Let Wilha—the favored twin—keep it. I tuck Ruby’s sea-shell and my dagger into my satchel, along with the jewels I ripped from Wilha’s dresses. I still plan to use them to start a new life. Whatever and wherever that will be.

  When I’m finished, I open the wardrobe and pull out a blue velvet box. It’s a new mask from Welkin, the betrothal present Lord Royce brought with him to Korynth. I open the box and examine the painted white mask encrusted with opals in shades of iridescent, powder blue and milky lavender, the colors of the Andewyn family. When I lift the mask, the opals catch the candlelight and seem to sparkle.

  “Your Highness?” Milly knocks again. “May I come in?”
<
br />   “Just a moment.” I tie the mask on. Only a few more hours of pretending, and this will all be over.

  “You look stunning, Your Highness,” Milly says, holding up a small mirror.

  A princess in an opal mask stares back at me. Wilha’s silken birthday gown is a light, iridescent blue with a square neckline and draped sleeves. Stitched into the bodice and full skirt are lavender opals and bright, sparkling jewels.

  A loud knock sounds at the door and Ruby bursts into the room, with Leandra following closely behind. Both of them are wearing silver masks and scarlet and black colored gowns, the colors of the Strassburg family.

  Ruby twirls around, her skirt billowing like a bell. “How do I look, Wilha!”

  “Girls,” Genevieve says as she strides into the room behind them carrying a black box. “I’m trying to decide which of your great grandmother’s rings we should wear tonight.”

  Ruby and Leandra turn back and bend their heads over the box. I stay where I am, until Genevieve says, “What are you waiting for? Come and pick some out.”

  I frown. “Oh, but I thought you only meant Leandra and Ruby. . . .”

  “Nonsense. You are part of this family now, too.” She grins conspiratorially. “Besides, it will quite annoy Eudora to see you wearing them.”

  I grin back at her. “Thank you.” It’s all I can say, because my throat is suddenly thick. I join Leandra and Ruby and we ooh and ahh over the rings. I settle on a gold one with a large sapphire.

  “You’re being too shy,” Genevieve says. “You can wear more than one ring, Wilha. We can all sparkle together tonight.”

  And the moment bursts. Once she calls me “Wilha,” I am reminded that this is not my family, this is not my life.

  “Now, girls,” Genevieve says when we’ve all finished with the rings, “it is time you went down to the great hall. The doors are about to open and your father and I want you to greet the guests with us. Wilha will be announced later, after everyone arrives. Milly, will you escort them to the hall please?” Milly nods, and after they’re gone Genevieve turns back to me. “You were given instructions, yes? King Ezebo wishes you to enter from the balcony that overlooks the great hall.”

  I nod. “He sent Sir Reinhold earlier to inform me.”

  “Good.” Genevieve smiles. “You look beautiful, Wilha. Tonight, all eyes will be on you.”

  CHAPTER 48

  WILHA

  As I wrap the black cloak I borrowed from the dress shop around myself, I try to think of an explanation to give James and Victor for why I have to leave. Although I cannot tell them the truth, I can at least give them the comfort of knowing I am safe. Because once I make the switch with Elara, “Willie” will be gone forever, and come the next morning, I don’t want them worrying about me. My family has need of me, and I have to return immediately, I compose the explanation in my mind.

  It won’t even be a lie.

  I pick up the white and silver costume mask Kyra found for me to wear tonight and look around my room one last time, trying to capture the image in my mind. Perhaps one day, years from now, I will laugh at my adventure in the city, and it will not seem quite so painful, as it does now.

  Downstairs, the inn is full and festive. Several customers wear costume masks and carry candles. According to town gossip, the Masked Princess is supposed to appear on the balcony at midnight while fireworks ignite over the castle. A gift from King Ezebo to those who were not invited to the masquerade.

  It is with bitter irony that I realize the girl waving to the crowd tonight will be me.

  “All set to go?” James asks when he sees me. Kyra told him we were meeting at the castle gates to pass the time until midnight.

  “Yes,” I say, and then surprise him by reaching out and hugging him tightly.

  He hugs me in return and whispers, “I’ll see if I can get Victor to let me off early, and I’ll come meet you and Kyra.”

  I will myself to say the words, to tell him that I won’t be joining Kyra at the gates after all. Yet as usual, my voice fails me and I keep hugging him, not wanting to let go.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” James says when we finally break apart.

  I nod, ashamed of my own cowardice. With one last wave, I step outside the inn and close the door on one life. With a sigh, I tie on my costume mask, and once again, the world becomes a little smaller.

  I step out into the night and head toward another life, the one I have been marked for since birth.

  CHAPTER 49

  ELARA

  A guard pushes open the wooden doors and ushers me out to the balcony, which overlooks the party. The great hall shines; hundreds of lit candles hang from newly polished silver chandeliers. The wooden floors have been scrubbed and waxed until they glow like honey. A fire dances in the large hearth. Red and black banners of the Strassburg family crest alternate along the walls with Andewyn ones of powder blue and lavender.

  Down below, the entire royal family is seated on the dais. Ladies dressed in vibrantly colored gowns twirl about the dance floor on the arms of elegantly styled men with all their faces hidden under masks. Some of the masks are decorated with jewels or sequins and bits of glass that glitter in the candlelight. Other masks are the faces of monsters and beasts bearing expressions of agony.

  Near the staircase leading to the dance floor below, a man wearing a mask of silver, black, and crimson waves at me, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s Stefan.

  “I didn’t recognize you at first.” I laugh.

  “No one could mistake who you are,” he says, bowing deep. “You are beautiful.” He steps closer. “Though you would be even more beautiful if you were not wearing your mask.”

  I struggle to keep my smile in place. I know he’s probably only being polite for the benefit of the soldiers and servants behind us, but my heart constricts at his words anyway.

  “May I present Their Royal Highnesses Princess Wilhamina Andewyn of Galandria and Crown Prince Stefan Strassburg,” calls out a page.

  The music halts, the dancing stops, and a hush falls over the crowd as everyone stares at us. King Ezebo rises from his seat on the dais and begins to clap. The rest of the royal family—except for Eudora, who remains stubbornly seated—follows suit and soon the ballroom is filled with thunderous applause. It’s dizzying, listening to them all cheer for me.

  Not for you, I remind myself. For Wilhamina.

  Stefan bows to me again. “Ready to meet your public?”

  I take the hand he offers. “I’m ready.”

  He gives my hand a small squeeze, and together we descend into the colorful crowd below.

  CHAPTER 50

  WILHA

  Night has fallen at the ocean. An iridescent ribbon of moonlight spools across the Lonesome Sea and the tide has begun to rise. I step over jagged rocks, gasping when a wave rolls in and icy water seeps through my borrowed slippers. When I reach the moss-covered stone steps cut into the cliff, I hike up my skirt and begin climbing.

  I haven’t gotten very far when I hear voices coming from down the beach. I stop and duck down behind a boulder. The voices grow closer, and it sounds as though two men are fighting.

  “We won’t be caught—the entire city is focused on the masquerade. I’ve been given our orders. We are to wait here until the signal is given. When will your men arrive?”

  With a start, I realize the voice sounds familiar. I chance a look over the boulder and see that it is Garwyn, along with Moran and the rest of the Galandrian guards. Garwyn is talking to Anton and Jaromil.

  “In a moment,” Anton answers tersely. “They’ll be here soon.”

  “What is the signal?” asks Jaromil.

  “At midnight, when the castle lets off fireworks, we are to begin. We are to start here, on the southernmost dock and spread out and work our way west. Tomorrow, Kyrenica will wake to a city burned.”

  “I still don’t see how that will spark war,” Anton says.

  “It will when they see t
he Galandrian banners we’ll leave in our wake. And if that isn’t enough, he has something else planned.”

  Anton says something else, but his voice is low. I stand up cautiously to hear better.

  “. . . Don’t know how, exactly,” Garwyn is answering. “Someone in the castle could be working for him. Or maybe he plans to do it himself. But after tonight the crown prince will need to find himself a new bride.”

  After this there is silence, and I see the dim profiles of Anton and Jaromil turn to each other. “Does that mean . . . ?” Jaromil asks.

  “Yes, slain on the very night of her own welcoming party. When Galandria gets word of it, they’ll be chomping at the bit to go to war. And when Kyrenica realizes Galandria is responsible for the burning of their capital, they’ll be all too eager to meet them.”

  “Never wanted a peace treaty in the first place,” Jaromil says. “Your master, whoever he is, is a wretched bastard—a man after my own heart.”

  Horror washes over me and I duck down behind the boulder, putting a hand to my mouth to keep from crying out. It is possible that Anton and Jaromil are involved with illegal trading, and that Garwyn and his guards have been searching for me—but that is not what they have been recruiting men for.

  They have been to help push Galandria and Kyrenica into war.

  And I watched them do it. All the time they spent in the inn plotting, I watched them and did nothing. Not even when I was sure I read evil in their expressions. All I did was hide when I thought it was me they were coming for.

  As a result, the entire city will burn, and Elara may be in danger this very moment. While I don’t understand everything they have just said, I know that someone in the castle wants the Masked Princess dead.