Royal Replicas

by Michael Pierce

  I lit a candle on my nightstand and lay on the bed. Curling up on one side, I kept anything from touching my damaged feet. I was missing memories since the accident a week or so earlier; according to Dr. Crane, acute head trauma could cause temporary or even selectively permanent amnesia. But all the memories of my switchings throughout the years remained intact. Why couldn’t some of those have been erased? I closed my eyes to see what else I could forget, but the memories of being beaten flooded back with gruesome, terrifying clarity.

  Who was the boy?

  It hadn’t been a lie. I honestly couldn’t remember. There was no one I could meet in town, no one I knew outside of the Ramsey estate. Johanna and Mina went to school with the other children, though they arrived in more style than their peers, but my studies were confined to the estate with the Governess. I was taught to be proper and polite, like any other noble young lady. But I was no noble young lady; I was just a Sandalwood.

  I could hear footsteps echoing in the hallway outside my room, so was not surprised when there was a soft knock at the door.

  “May I come in?” It was the melodic voice of Lady Ramsey.

  “Yes,” I said, and the door creaked open.

  She entered the room holding a couple of embroidered hand towels and a porcelain basin filled with water. She was an indisputably beautiful woman, making it clear how her daughters came by their good looks. Her blonde hair was up in a tight and perfectly held bun. Her face matched her daughters’ soft and subtle features, and she only bore a few more lines of age.

  Lady Ramsey glided over to my bed, wearing a flowery apron skirt over her dress. I scooted to the far side so she could sit. She set the basin beside her and maneuvered my hurt feet onto her covered lap. Looking over at me, she tucked a lock of my dark hair behind my ear and wiped my tear-stricken cheek.

  “You’re a strong girl,” she said. “I wish I had your strength.”

  “I’m not strong,” I said. “I don’t know how much more I can endure.”

  “We’re never asked to endure more than we’re capable of.”

  I used to call her Mother, but there’d come a time when it just didn’t seem appropriate anymore. I was without a family and it was no use pretending I was a part of this one. I often wondered why the Ramseys accepted to care for me at all.

  Lady Ramsey dipped one of the hand towels in the basin and wrung it out before gently applying it to my right foot. I cringed despite how careful she was being. My feet were always dirty; no matter how hard I scrubbed, I could never get them totally clean. She wiped around the wounds and gently patted the injured portion of my foot, reminding me of the real mother I was missing so much.

  “I know you didn’t mean to go against our wishes by venturing into town alone,” she said as she continued her work.

  “I forgot to bring someone with me,” I said. “There’s so much I’m forgetting right now. My head is in a fog.”

  “Dr. Sosin said you’d feel like that for a while. But you’ll be back to your old self soon.”

  “The past few months are a blur. Master Ramsey mentioned a boy.”

  “A boy…” Lady Ramsey moved to my left foot, gently dabbing at the fiery welts. “Yes. He had been harassing you. It culminated in a confrontation while you were riding, causing you to be thrown off Misty. It was a miracle you weren’t more hurt.”

  “I so love riding,” I said, having no recollection of the fall.

  “I know you do, sweetie. And you’ll be able to again once you’re well enough. I’m sure Dr. Crane will clear you for riding in a few weeks’ time.” She dropped the wet towel into the basin, the water now cloudy and brown. Then she took the dry one and patted my feet dry. “It’s for your own safety,” she said, laying a comforting hand on my ankle.

  “What is?” I asked.

  “For you to take someone with you on your trips into town. The boy has escaped reprimand thus far and we are concerned for your safety. I don’t know what else he’s capable of. You know you must follow the rules.”

  “Who is he? What’s his name?”

  “You never mentioned his name, and by the time the accident occurred, it was too late to ask. But I’m grateful you don’t remember him. It helps for you and the rest of us to move on.”

  “I’m not grateful for it,” I said. “I want to remember. There’s enough in my life that’s lost to me. Like my parents.”

  “You’re my little girl.”

  “I’m not a—”

  “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my little girl.” Lady Ramsey moved my legs aside and rose from the bed. She wiped her hands on her apron skirt before picking up the soiled basin and turning to me. “You’re excused from any unfinished chores for the rest of the day. If anyone questions you, tell them to come talk to me.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Thank you for your kindness.” My feet ached, but they felt slightly better knowing they’d get some time to rest.

  Lady Ramsey left the room without another word and I closed my eyes, trying to remember the face of the boy who’d supposedly tormented me.

  CHAPTER 3

  T he most severe pain from a switching lasted for a few days, but the following day was always the worst. Each step felt like a fresh strike from my time on the bench.

  I limped to the kitchen and helped prepare breakfast with the hired help, and was allowed to sit down and eat once the family had finished. I crossed my legs under the table to keep the soles of my feet temporarily off the floor. I had a compulsion to keep checking them, examining each red ribbon stretching out across the arches.

  I ate my porridge and cut fruit while the rest of the kitchen staff cleared the table from the family’s breakfast.

  “Are you finished, Miss Victoria?” Berta asked when there was nothing more to take away. Only the tablecloth was left to be changed. “I’ll take your dishes for you.”

  “You know you don’t have to do that. I’ll get out of your way,” I said, removing my almost empty bowl. Many of the estate workers were extra nice to me the day after I’d received a switching. I glanced down at Berta’s shoes and envied her.

  “I’m not trying to rush you,” she said.

  “I know you need to finish up,” I replied. “I need to get my day started as well before meeting with the Governess.” I finished the fruit while hobbling into the kitchen to wash my own dishes; I wasn’t about to have the others waiting on me.

  Once I was finished in the kitchen, I headed to the stables. The Ramseys had a total of twelve horses. Misty was an Appaloosa and I thought of her as my own, even though she wasn’t specifically given to me. She was the mare I mostly rode and the closest thing I had to a real friend. I tended to all the horses but gave Misty the most attention.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to ride you lately,” I said as I brushed her. “I should be allowed to, soon. I’m told Dr. Crane will return in a few days and he’ll hopefully give me a clean bill of health.”

  Misty whinnied and nodded, and I knew she understood.

  “One day, we’ll ride and you’ll jump the fence and we’ll just keep going… going far away from here. I wouldn’t be able to do it without you.”

  I adjusted my stance, but everywhere I stood had more pieces of straw digging into the soles of my feet. It was uncomfortable even on regular days; on this day, though, it was nothing less than excruciating.

  I couldn’t linger too long, I kissed her on the cheek before continuing to the next stall to tend and clean.

  It was mid-morning by the time I had worked through each of the occupied stalls. There wasn’t much time before my lessons would begin with the Governess, but I had a few minutes to rest.

  I ventured into the meadow. Part of it was fenced in, where the family did much of their riding, as did I whenever I was allowed. I leaned on the wooden fence and watched Mina practicing with her trainer. It was Sunday, so the school was closed, yet I wasn’t excused from lessons.

  Her thoroughbred, Pumpernickel, trotted in
circles around the trainer who barked commands to the horse and his rider. Mina sat tall on the saddle, keeping the reins tight; her riding skills were already almost surpassing mine.

  “I know you miss it.”

  I turned to see the Governess striding up behind me.

  “I can’t wait to get back out there,” I said.

  “It shouldn’t be long now.” Now, the Governess stood beside me at the fence, resting her forearms on the top slat. “Dr. Crane will be back on Tuesday, correct?”

  “Sometime this week, I was told.”

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Okay, I guess,” I said.

  “And your head?”

  “It’s still a little fuzzy, but not hurting as much,” I said, mainly because the pain in my feet had overshadowed it.

  “Good, then you’re fully prepared for today’s lesson?”

  “As ready as I’m going to be. Can’t I have a little more time off?”

  “You’ve missed quite enough already,” she said. “Today is the day we resume.”

  “Okay,” I said, hanging my head low. I knew she wouldn’t go easy on me and had to make sure she wouldn’t have a less than satisfactory progress report to deliver to the Ramseys.

  When she was silent for longer than usual, I glanced up. Her expression was dark as she focused on the far side of the field. She was no longer looking in the direction of Mina and her trainer.

  Then I saw him too. There was a boy who looked about my own age standing at the far fence. His hair was short and light and he wore a tan leather coat. It was hard to make out many of his facial features from this distance, but he seemed tall and trim, gauging his height from how far his upper body extended above the fence-top. I’d never seen him before, but the Governess seemed to know exactly who he was; it was clear she was not the least bit happy about his presence.

  The boy was staring directly at me with haunting eyes, the color of which I couldn’t distinguish but I felt them reaching for me, pulling me to him.

  “What is it?” I asked. “Who is he?”

  “He is the boy who caused the accident,” she replied. “I should alert the Master immediately, but I know as soon as I turn to leave, he’ll be gone again like a ghost.”

  “That’s him?” I now had a face to paste into my missing memories. Now all I needed was a story. “He doesn’t look—”

  “Well, he’s dangerous and should not be on the Ramseys’ property, especially after what he’s done.”

  The boy never tore his gaze away from me and I couldn’t manage to look away either; his unyielding attention was mesmerizing.

  “Now he knows you’re up and about, he may be here to finish the job.” The Governess snapped two fingers to grab my attention. “You’re sure you don’t remember anything?”

  “No. What should I remember?” I asked, finally turning to her. “What do you mean by finish the job?”

  “To kill you,” she said ominously.

  The trainer was leading Mina back to the stables. “Let’s get you inside, child. It’s time for your lesson anyway.”

  CHAPTER 4

  I couldn’t shake the boy’s face from my mind, becoming so engrossed in my thoughts that I forgot about the pain in my feet for a short time. But the Governess didn’t allow my distractions for long.

  Who was he? What was his name? And why would he want to kill me? I thought seeing his face would have triggered one of my lost memories, but it didn’t. It just created more questions.

  The locations of my lessons depended on the subject matter of the hour. Oftentimes, they started and finished in the library of wall-to-wall bookcases complete with rolling ladders and an assortment of study tables in the center of the room. Master Ramsey’s desk was in the corner by the stained-glass window.

  The Governess—attired in her black dress with long billowy sleeves—methodically circled the table at which I was seated. She held a long wooden pointer that she tapped against the palm of her free hand as she paced.

  “That’s as far as I can go,” I said and could sense her displeasure from behind me. “I’m trying.”

  “Reciting three generations of Queen Dorothea’s lineage is not trying hard enough; Mina can do that in her sleep. You were previously able to go back seven generations.”

  “I was previously able to do a lot of things.”

  She rapped me on the shoulder with the pointer. “Save your smart mouth. Sit up straight. I will not have you slouching in my presence. A proper young lady will sit up straight with her feet crossed at the ankles until she is ready to rise.”

  I crossed my feet at the ankles to appease her, causing me to remember the pain in them, and then said, “Why is this so important anyway?”

  “Why is the Queen of Westeria so important?” she asked, her tone dripping with disapproval. “The question is downright offensive and I hope it is never heard uttered beyond these walls. The Queen of Westeria should be important to everyone within the Kingdom. She’s been the sole ruler throughout your lifetime and her family has ruled for thirteen generations. Open the book and read to me—direct lineage only. We won’t branch off too far.”

  I opened the heavy leather-bound text The Great History of Westeria and flipped to the genealogy charts in the back. I began reciting the names, starting with Queen Dorothea Hart III and her only child, the reclusive Princess Amelia, who hadn’t been seen in public for nearly a decade and a half. She was only a few years older than I was, and I could see myself in the few pictures of her as a child.

  Every girl wanted to picture herself as a princess, but I really could. Oh, to be young and naive again!

  She looked happy in pictures, but she was sickly, with some debilitating illness that seemed to be worsening as she aged. As rumors spread of her declining health, the Princess was locked away within the palace, which certainly didn’t stop the spread of rumors.

  I knew many people thought the Princess had passed, though the Queen assured everyone her daughter was alive. In fact, during a live teleconference, she’d recently stated that—due to new experimental treatments—the Princess was doing better than ever; her condition was not just improving, but actually reversing, and we’d all be reintroduced to her very soon. You would be right to assume that many in the twenty-four wards remained skeptical.

  IN MY LESSONS with the Governess, other mundane facts I’d previously had to memorize and regurgitate included details about our Kingdom of Westeria.

  It had survived 579 years, three wars, five natural disasters, and numerous instances of civil unrest. The aftermath of the last war fifty-seven years ago led to the building of the electrified fence, separating us from the lawless Outlands on three sides. The Great Ocean made up our fourth border. Over the generations, we’d been reduced from thirty-five wards to twenty-four—several lost to the Outlands and the rest to restructuring.

  Four faction kingdoms were born out of the ruins of a seemingly untouchable empire: Westeria, Easteria, Northeria, and Southeria. This land we now inhabited had once belonged to a cooperation of small kingdoms called the United States of America. In their timeline, 2064 marked The Rift and the collapse of their great cooperative. This collapse was followed by a decade of anarchy before the new kingdoms emerged, becoming our Year Zero.

  “Now, close the book and recite them again,” the Governess commanded. “Have both hands flat on the cover like you’re summoning the names from within the pages.”

  But that wasn’t why she wanted my hands outstretched. I made it to the fifth generation before faltering, the Governess then slapping me across the knuckles with the pointer, producing a welt almost rivaling those on my feet. Luckily, my hands were tougher.

  “This isn’t a joke,” the Governess said, waving the pointer at me.

  “I’m not laughing,” I said. My hands burned, but I didn’t remove them from the book cover.

  “This is important. Everything I stress to you is important.”

  “If my studi
es are so important, then why am I not in school with everyone else?”

  “Because we’re not focusing on general education. We’re focusing on the specific knowledge you require.” The Governess looked like she wanted to hit me again, but I remained seated tall and straight.

  “And I’m required to know the Queen’s entire lineage by heart?” I said, exasperated.

  “Yes.”

  We went through the ridiculous drill again. I read the names from the genealogy chart, then recited what I could remember with the book closed; the Governess struck me with the pointer as soon as I reached my memory’s end.

  Not getting hit was supposed to be the motivation, but I’d become so accustomed to the response that it just became part of the exercise. By the time we took a break—after I reached the twelfth generation—my knuckles were bloody and swollen, less inconspicuous than the weals on my feet.

  “Let’s move to the dining room,” the Governess said. “You may have a minute to grab yourself a glass of water. Then we’ll continue with a review of formal dining decorum.”

  CHAPTER 5

  I was tidying up the front formal sitting room when the doorbell rang. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence; deliveries were made regularly and guests of the Ramseys were always coming and going. The estate workers were also in constant rotation to a point where I couldn’t keep up with learning all their names.

  One of the housekeepers scrubbing the floor in the foyer answered the door. A small messenger drone flew in, which stopped and hovered once inside, its twin propellers whirling.

  “Who may I ask for?” the housekeeper asked.

  “Duchess Beatrice Ramsey and Victoria Sandalwood,” the machine answered in its electronic, monotone voice.

  I was speechless. The housekeeper glanced over at me nervously.

  It must be some mistake, I thought. I was included in the same message as Lady Ramsey? I’d never received or been included in a message from a drone in my life, only a few items I had ordered being delivered by small package drones; I had no outstanding packages I was aware of.