Royal Replicas

by Michael Pierce

  I rolled over at the sound of the phone ringing, reached for the nightstand and picked up the receiver.

  “Hello, Miss Victoria. Your dinner order has been placed and will be brought to you in the next twenty to thirty minutes,” said the female voice on the line.

  “Thank you,” I said, surprised to be receiving an update at all.

  “My pleasure,” the voice responded and then the line promptly disconnected.

  I was growing even more impressed and awed by the accommodations and treatment I was receiving; this was like nothing I’d ever experienced, but everything I’d dreamed of.

  Since I knew approximately when the food would arrive, it gave me some downtime, which I thought would be a great opportunity to explore.

  I strolled into the closet, found a pair of comfortable-looking flats and headed for the door. But when I went to turn the knob, I quickly realized it was locked. Upon closer examination, I discovered there was no lock on the inside—no keyhole, no thumb-turn, no pushbutton. Nothing. Which could only mean the lock was on the outside; I couldn’t believe my luck. This surely couldn’t be happening; I’d simply traded one prison for another.

  CHAPTER 18

  I knew this was all too good to be true!

  I couldn’t breathe. I tried the door knob again, stepping away, then trying one more time to see if I was making some silly mistake. Still locked. I didn’t know what kind of game was being played with me, but it was definitely starting to freak me out.

  I ran to the phone and dialed zero.

  It was just a mistake. A misunderstanding. There’s a very good reason… the locks are on the outside of the bedrooms.

  A woman on the other end of the line picked up on the third ring. “Good evening, Miss Victoria. How may I be of service?”

  I was all ready to say, “My name is Victoria and I’m in the Yellow Room,” but she obviously already knew that, and her greeting threw me off.

  “Hello? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here,” I finally said. “I seem to be locked in my room.”

  There was a pause.

  “Yes,” the woman said. “Queen Hart has directed our new guests to be confined to their rooms until everyone has arrived.”

  “When will that be?”

  “The final guest is scheduled to arrive tomorrow afternoon.”

  “So, I’m stuck in here until then?”

  “You are free to enjoy the accommodations of your palace suite, and if there is anything you require, we’ll promptly bring it to you. Your dinner order is in. Would you like anything else?”

  “I’d like to know why you guys are holding me prisoner?” I commanded. “My mother is the Queen! I am a princess here! I demand you unlock my door immediately!”

  “I understand your concern and frustration, but we are under strict orders from the Queen. You will be freed as soon as she gives the word.”

  “And my orders mean nothing?”

  “At this time, your orders have no clout. Would you like anything else this evening, Miss Victoria?”

  “I’d like to see my governess.”

  “I’m sorry, but that is also not permitted at this time.”

  I hung up the phone before my voice cracked. I dropped my face in my hands and wept. I thought I’d arrived, but I’d just been placed into a new limbo and still had no idea what was happening. This was becoming increasingly terrifying. My life with the Ramseys provided for some terrible times, but at least they were familiar and I always knew what was coming. My punishments were typically expected, whereas this unknown was becoming a worse torment than any switching.

  I went to one of the windows and looked out at the brick wall holding us all in. Placing my hand on the glass, I saw that the window didn’t open. To get out, I’d have to break the glass and jump two stories into the shrubbery below. With my luck, the glass wouldn’t even break and whatever I used to hit the window would probably bounce off.

  I resigned myself to my comfortable prison and began unpacking the few belongings brought from the 24th Ward. It didn’t take long before I was fully settled in. I took an extra pillow from the bed to place under my butt as I took a seat on a sofa facing the wall-mounted television.

  There were three remotes on the coffee table and it took me all three tries before I could turn the unit on. I expected to find a bunch of channels to sift through but instead was greeted with a screen of unfamiliar icons. Clicking on the first, lists upon lists of movies and shows appeared; there were so many I’d never seen before or even heard of.

  I had watched the first few minutes of a handful of television shows when I was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  I stood up from the sofa and the door opened before I even had a chance to cross the room. A young woman in a black dress and apron entered with a silver tray of food.

  A uniformed soldier remained in the doorway, blocking any attempt at escape. In his hand, he held some type of electrified baton; he pressed a small button on the handle and a blue current sizzled around the ball on the end. It was obvious he was showing me the power of the device to deter me from attempting any dramatic acts. He was a big, intimidating man I had no intention of rushing.

  “Here you are, Miss Victoria,” the young woman said as she laid the tray on the coffee table near where I’d been sitting. “Lamb shank with buttered potato shallots and pickled greens. I also brought you an ice water with lemon. The Queen is quite fond of this dish. I hope you enjoy it as well.”

  “Are you going to lock me back in when you leave?” I asked, already knowing the answer. I wanted to see her expression when she told me what no one had yet been able to do in person.

  “I’m afraid so,” she said, stepping away from the tray—and from me.

  “Why did no one warn me ahead of time? It’s a little disconcerting.”

  “Which is why no one did warn you ahead of time. We’re under very strict orders from Queen Hart. Your arrival with the others is a very sensitive matter.”

  The soldier at the door cleared his throat—exaggeratingly so.

  “Enjoy your dinner, Miss Victoria,” the woman said.

  “Wait,” I insisted. “Why is my arrival a sensitive matter? Who are the others? Where is my governess?”

  “I’m sorry,” was her only reply as she exited the room.

  The soldier glared at me as he closed the door. I ran to try the knob, but already knew it would be locked again.

  I returned to the sofa and stared at the elegantly presented plate of food. It looked delicious, but I was no longer hungry.

  I didn’t sleep in the bed that night but repositioned the pillow I’d been sitting on and lay on the sofa. I also never turned off the television. I wasn’t really watching the titles I chose; it served more as background noise than anything else.

  My breakfast the next morning arrived with the sight of the rising sun over the brick perimeter wall. The dining servant wasn’t the same as the night before, though the soldier accompanying her was certainly the same, staring at me with the same cold eyes. The woman commented that I hadn’t touched my dinner; I only grunted a response.

  At 11:58 a.m., my lunch arrived, and my breakfast tray was removed from the room. This time, the dining servant and the accompanying soldier were both new.

  At exactly 3:30 p.m., came another knock at the door. The young woman who had served me dinner the night before entered the room. The soldier from lunchtime was still on shift, and instead of guarding the doorway, he followed her in, closing the door behind them both.

  This is new, I thought.

  The soldier strolled over to the desk, pulled out the chair, and sat down.

  “It’s almost time,” the woman said. “You need to be presentable for meeting the Queen this evening.”

  CHAPTER 19

  I sat up on the couch. “You mean I’m finally going to be allowed outside this room?”

  “Very soon,” she said. “First you must bathe and change. I’m here to
help you with both.”

  “And he’s here to make sure I cooperate?” I said, gesturing to the soldier in the corner.

  “There’s no need for any problems,” she said. “I’m here to help. But we haven’t much time. We must get moving so you’re not late. The Queen does not like tardiness.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  She proceeded to the washroom and turned on the water to what I assumed was the bathtub, and returned to the bedroom wiping her wet hands on her apron. “Come, Miss Victoria.”

  I pushed up off the couch and staggered to the washroom. I wanted to close the door, but she insisted it remained ajar. I told her I could do this on my own, but she wouldn’t hear of it and began unlacing my dress and pulling it down. When my slip was also removed, she gasped at the sight of the puffy red welts and cuts emblazoned across my lower cheeks and down the backs of my legs.

  “Who did this to you?” she asked.

  “A monster,” I responded.

  “I will be as gentle as I can.” She took me by the hand as I stepped into the warm bath.

  I let her do her job and bathe me without putting up a fight. All I had to do was move when she told me, and once all the makeup from my face was washed away, she noticed my bruised cheek as well.

  “What’s your name?” I asked the young woman as she wet my hair.

  “Kimera,” she said after a pause as if she hadn’t been asked the question in a very long time.

  “Have you worked here long?”

  “As soon as I was allowed to work. My mother’s been on the Queen’s staff for many years. My father is a part of her Royal Guard. It was only natural I remained in the palace too.”

  “Do you like it here?”

  Oh, yes. It’s such a lovely place to live and work,” she said and sounded as excited as the words suggested.

  “Why am I not allowed to see my mother? Why am I being locked in here?”

  This caused her to clam up. Her excited tone evaporated. “I’m not at liberty to discuss anything regarding your stay in the palace.”

  I lowered my voice. “It’s okay,” I said. “I won’t tell anyone. This can remain just between us. We’re alone in here. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re never truly alone in the Château,” she whispered, her words coming across like a warning.

  Once out of the bath, Kimera applied ointment to my wounds, which seemed to have an icing effect, giving me chills. Then she helped me into a white cotton robe that had been hanging from the back of the washroom door and proceeded to do my hair, makeup, and nails. It felt amazing being pampered, even as a prisoner; when she was done, I looked at myself in the mirror and was amazed by the transformation. She was even more skilled than Lady Ramsey! My face looked flawless, though it certainly didn’t feel it.

  We then moved from the washroom to the closet, where Kimera closed the door once we were inside to escape the gaze of the waiting soldier, and began putting an outfit together. I would simply have chosen the first dress I saw, but Kimera carefully and deliberately picked out each piece of the ensemble. Nude undergarments that were elegant, yet comfortable and understated. A yellow cocktail dress that matched my room’s decor. Lavender pumps echoing the color of my nails and eyeshadow… And a golden tiara with amethyst accents.

  The closet had a full body mirror. Kimera positioned me in front of it to view the finished product.

  “Fit for a princess,” she said.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was looking at one,” I said.

  “Perhaps you are.”

  “I wish you would talk to me.”

  “You’re very beautiful, my lady,” Kimera said and exited the closet.

  “Thank you,” I said under my breath, following her back into the bedroom.

  The soldier had barely moved. He sat so still I couldn’t be sure at first that he was still breathing.

  Kimera removed a watch from her apron pocket and latched it to her wrist. “We have ten minutes,” she said, adjusting the timepiece. “Right on schedule.”

  “What do we do in the meantime?” I asked.

  “We wait,” the soldier said from the corner of the room. I glanced over and it still looked like he hadn’t shifted from the spot.

  “Yes. We wait,” Kimera repeated.

  I’d already done more waiting than I could handle. And I’d done more pacing in the past two days than any time I could remember, but after all this time, what was another ten minutes? It was ten minutes of pure emotional torture—that’s what.

  “Take a deep breath,” Kimera said.

  I was pacing again, and doing it in heels, without thinking. Once I realized it, I stumbled, twisting my ankle and falling to my knees.

  “Are you okay?” Kimera rushed over to my aid. She was the only one displaying any concern.

  “I’m fine,” I said, back on my feet before she could help me out. I took the deep breath she’d suggested, feeling how it slightly calmed my nerves.

  She brought me a half-full glass of water from my lunch tray. “Drink. It will help.”

  “What’s going to happen when you lead me out of this room?” I asked, after emptying the glass.

  “I’m not at liberty—”

  “Okay. Forget I asked.” This still all felt like a dream—sometimes a dream come true and other times (like right at that moment) a nightmare. I pictured the hologram of the Queen and Prince Byron and the message that changed everything—everything I thought I knew about myself, my life, and my past. I vividly remembered trying on the emerald dress for the first time in Ms. Adriana’s shop. I relived the gut-wrenching pain of Master Ramsey tearing that dress in half and leaving it and me for ruin. And now, I was here in the palace, fixed up as beautifully as I’d ever been in my life, waiting to be granted an audience with the Queen of Westeria. I feared some other part of my life soon being torn apart.

  The clock seemed to tick slower than a minute at a time, but time didn’t truly stop and the ten minutes finally passed. The soldier was the first to acknowledge it by rising from the desk chair and heading for the door. He stopped at the nightstand, to pick up the phone.

  “It’s Williams. Unlock on Yellow,” he said, and my door seemed to magically open. “After you.”

  Kimera led the way out of the room and back down to the first floor. I periodically glanced back to see if the soldier, Williams, was still behind me. He was, and moving as quietly as a cat.

  We followed the open foyer under the stairs, passing a formal sitting room, a dining room, a games room, and a long lounge that could have also been a hallway, all the way to a closed set of ornately-carved wooden double doors.

  Kimera waited for Williams to open the door, allowing us to enter what looked a large, two-story ballroom. The room was empty of furniture except for a rectangular dining room table with place settings for eight.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  Kimera didn’t reply, instead proceeding into the cavernous room, the clicking of her high heels on the wood flooring echoing and ominous, like the ticking of a doomsday clock. The sound of my own heels as I crossed the room was just as unsettling. Williams remained close behind.

  Kimera pulled out the exquisitely-crafted wooden chair at the head of the table closest to where we’d entered. She directed me to sit, took hold of my napkin and placed it across my lap. I scooted my chair in with assistance. Kimera remained standing directly behind. Williams joined other soldiers standing to attention against three of the four walls.

  Six other places at the table were taken, leaving only the head of the table on the opposite side empty. From the length and style of her hair and the instantly reciprocated recognition, I was sure the middle girl on the left was the one I’d bumped into at the 21st Ward train station. And I still considered that chance encounter very strange. But stranger still was the fact that the other five girls seated around the table also looked exactly like me.

&n
bsp; CHAPTER 20

  We seven carbon copy girls sized each other up. But—with each girl having a servant stationed directly behind her and the soldiers along the perimeter of the room—the table remained quiet.

  There were variations in hairstyle and color, some probably dyed, as well as in piercings, skin tone, and muscle definition, but the general build, natural features, and approximate age of each girl seemed incredibly similar. There were also no two dresses of the same color, and I figured each color identified the room to which each girl was assigned.

  I was confident from the expressions of agitation, impatience, uncertainty, and fear that none of the girls had any more information than I did. The realization made me feel slightly better about my current predicament.

  I sat tall like the Governess had always instructed and crossed my ankles beneath my chair. The biggest issue for me would be sitting there for any extended period with the injuries to my backside screaming out in protest at the chair’s naked wooden seat. I tried not to let the growing pain show on my face while I waited like everyone else for the last seat at the table to be filled.

  Then, the far doors burst open; two lines of servants entered, parted, and provided a pathway for the Queen who followed on. I’d never thought of myself as sharing her features, but I could see it now. She wore a sparkling emerald dress with extensive needlework in the corset, and a voluminous train stretching out behind her like a shadow. Her arms and neck dripped with diamonds and her shimmering crown looked like it could have been carved from a single jewel. Her smile was as radiant as her jewelry and only seemed to shine brighter as she crossed the expansive room.