Royal Replicas

by Michael Pierce

  “You should rise,” Kimera whispered in my ear and I noticed the other servants also providing instructions to their respective girls.

  I was delighted to stand and give my injuries a moment to calm. The other girls did the same as the Queen approached.

  Before the Queen could reach her chair, however, one of the servants rushed over and pulled it out for her.

  “And then there were seven. Welcome, ladies, to your new home—the Château le Hart,” the Queen said as she took a seat. “I hope your accommodations have been to your likings thus far. I do apologize for all the secrecy, but the reason why will become clear very soon.”

  The seven of us were seated in relative unison.

  “Princess Amelia is dead,” the Queen said bluntly. “I know this comes as a shock to you, but it is the reason you are all here. You obviously know she has been out of the public eye for quite a few years. You see, she was born with a degenerative disorder that was detected soon after birth. She began to exhibit mild symptoms soon after. With her condition worsening over the next few years, I decided to take her out of the public eye after her eighth birthday; I didn’t want the entire Kingdom to see the primary heir to the throne deteriorating before their eyes. I’d tried for many years to have a baby without any success, so when baby Amelia came along, she was my miracle. Then the doctors discovered her condition and I saw how cruel fate could be. As soon as she was given to me, she was taken away—a small piece at a time. And now, my little miracle is gone.

  “I worked with the best doctors in the Kingdom and brought in the best medics from around the world too, but they all were unable to reverse or even halt the worsening of her condition. That was when I received another option and the lovely young ladies seated at this table were born. My daughter was two when this new option was presented to me and I knew at my age, and following my difficulty to conceive the first time, the chances of me having another child were extremely unlikely.

  “There had been success in other kingdoms with human cloning trials, and I was presented with an opportunity to have Amelia cloned. With much deliberation, I chose to proceed. Her cloned genes were wiped of the degenerative disorder, so the new baby could have a fresh start. And from the advice and recommendations of the geneticists, we ultimately implanted eight cloned embryos into surrogates. The true nature of the pregnancies was kept secret and confidential, of course, which is why you are hearing about it only now. Only your surrogate parents were told the true nature of the pregnancies and you were all closely monitored for any complications or abnormalities. All of you have remained perfectly healthy—as healthy as any naturally-born child.”

  The Queen paused to take a sip of water, then let out a long breath. “I’ve been waiting eighteen long years for this day. I’ve imagined this initial meeting countless times and recited this speech like a daily prayer since you were all born. Seeing you all sitting here now, I still feel unprepared. Like I said, there were eight embryos and eight girls born, but only seven remain surviving today—the seven beautiful young ladies seated here. Please don’t worry; the death of the eighth girl was unrelated to the cloning process and Amelia’s disorder.

  “So… this is the big secret and will remain so to everyone outside of the palace walls. The seven of you are clones of my daughter, Princess Amelia, and one of you will replace her.”

  CHAPTER 21

  L ooking around the table, I knew I wasn’t the only one floored by this revelation; I’d heard rumors this technology existed—or at least, it did at one time—but I figured someone who was a clone would know it. A clone would surely have to feel something wasn’t right, that she was less than human? But I’d never had that suspicion, not for one moment.

  I am human. I am human. I am human. I am—not—human.

  So, the Ramseys had known this too. Lady Ramsey carried me like her own daughter—but I was something else entirely. Master Ramsey knew what I was. Was this why he…? I couldn’t bring myself to think about what he really thought of me.

  “What does that mean?” asked the middle girl on the left, in an orange dress—the one I’d bumped into at the train station.

  “Perhaps we should do introductions, but first I’ll answer your question,” the Queen said. “If you recall in recent press conferences, I addressed the Kingdom with the exciting news of Princess Amelia’s improving health and that she would soon be reintroduced to the people of Westeria.”

  “And now you’ve said the Princess is dead,” said the girl closest to me on the right, in a royal blue dress.

  “Which is where one of you will come in. Princess Amelia’s re-emergence will be one of you, as a symbol of hope and health for the Kingdom. We will then announce your upcoming union to Prince Byron, tying the DuFours of Easteria to the Harts. Then you will focus on producing an heir for the Hart family to live on and remain in power, in control of Westeria for generations to come.”

  “Which one of us?” The question was asked in rapid succession by at least three girls at the table. I may have been one of them. The conversation had quickly become overwhelming.

  “Ladies, we will get into all that. Please stay calm. Be patient. I understand this is a lot,” the Queen said.

  I noticed some of the soldiers inching away from the walls, taking subtle steps toward the table.

  The Queen raised her hands for them to hold back. “We’re okay. No one here is going to cause a disturbance. Isn’t that right, ladies? Before we go any further, let us do introductions.” She nodded to the girl on her left.

  “My name is Constance Redwood from the 23rd Ward. I’ve been raised by the Mackenzie family.” Constance wore a bright red dress.

  “My name is Danielle Cherrywood from the 19th Ward. I was living with the Thortons.” Danielle wore a lilac purple dress.

  “I’m Piper Rosewood from the 20th. I lived with the Boyes family.” Piper wore the royal blue dress.

  I was next. “Victoria Sandalwood,” I said. “From the 24th Ward. I was employed by the Ramsey family.”

  The Queen frowned at my choice of words but didn’t comment, allowing the introductions to continue.

  “My name is Jane Ironwood and I’m from the 17th Ward. I am part of the Kincaid family.” Jane wore a champagne-colored dress.

  “Thank you, my Queen, for inviting us into your home. My name is Bethany Marblewood, coming from the 21st Ward. I’ve been raised by the Nobel family.” Bethany wore the fiery orange dress.

  The Queen nodded with a smile at Bethany’s remarks.

  “It’s a pleasure to be here and officially meet you. I am Eleanor Muskwood from the 18th Ward. I’ve been raised and taught by the LaBelle family.” Eleanor wore a shimmering silver dress.

  “Very good,” the Queen said and her smile faded as she considered her next words. “Lastly, the one of you who could not be here, who departed nearly three years ago, was Tabatha Dogwood. She lived in the 22nd Ward with the Hendrix family. She was a very bright and kind girl, and it is heartbreaking she was also taken from us at such a young age.”

  “When did Princess Amelia pass?” Bethany asked.

  “Six years ago,” the Queen said. She didn’t have to think about it.

  “Which one of us will be replacing her?” Constance asked, repeating the earlier question.

  Before the Queen offered an answer, the doors on either side of the room burst open and two parades of servers rushed in holding silver trays.

  “I took the liberty to order for all of us,” the Queen said as a plate of meticulously presented food was set before her.

  A server handed Kimera a tray, who then set it in front of me. There were thin slices of some type of roast on top of a layer of couscous and a rainbow-colored assortment of vegetables paired into flowery designs.

  “Enjoy,” the Queen said, taking her first bite.

  I knew it was customary for the highest caste at the table to take the first bite or sip before the rest of the table followed.

  “Which one
of you—an excellent question.” The Queen dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her cloth napkin. “With seven very fine candidates, it’s difficult to simply choose one of you to replace my dearly departed Amelia. Each of you grew up in different wards with different ruling families. I don’t truly know what your experiences have been like and how they have shaped your current personalities. I don’t know who’s truly up for the task. So, I’ve devised a small competition.”

  “A competition?” I found myself asking.

  “Yes, Victoria. Each of you will be competing to become Amelia. Genetically, all of you are Amelia, but socially, I’m sure each of you is quite different. One of you will be a best fit, and it will be between Prince Byron and me to determine who.”

  “Prince Byron will be a part of this process?” Bethany asked.

  “An integral part,” the Queen said. “He will be deciding which one of you will be the best fit for him—the one to take back to Easteria and introduce to the King and Queen—since you’ll be destined to wed. You’ll be competing for his heart, while I will be looking for the best princess to represent my family name as ruler of Westeria. Royal refinement and decisive action are key. At the end of this process, we will jointly decide.”

  “And how long will the competition last?” Jane asked quietly.

  “I believe one month will be enough time to confidently make a decision. And with that timeframe, I thought it only fitting to have the new Princess Amelia introduced to the Kingdom on its birthday—at the Foundation Day celebration.”

  “When do we get to see Prince Byron?” Bethany asked.

  “He will be arriving tomorrow. I know you’re all anxious to meet him. You’ll only have to wait a short while longer.”

  “I’m stealing him first!” Constance announced. She received a few scowls from the table but seemed to be above them.

  The Queen chuckled. “I admire your initiative. I’m sure the competition will get fierce.” She was watching everyone at the table.

  I readjusted my posture to look attentive. The backs of my legs burned from the extended pressure of sitting. I focused on eating the delicious food we’d been served, trying to push the pain from the forefront of my attention.

  The competition between the seven of us for the hand of the Prince and all the Kingdom’s glory did not start the next day; it had already begun.

  And the winner would not just become the new Princess Amelia—but essentially become human, like we’d all previously taken for granted.

  Who am I? I no longer knew the answer to that.

  CHAPTER 22

  T he Queen said we now had free range of the palace grounds, minus a few rooms that were specifically hers and that she wanted to remain private. We were not permitted to attempt to leave the property for any reason, though there’d be special occasions where we’d be escorted off-site individually—described as exclusive one-on-one dates with Prince Byron.

  “Are you excited to meet the Prince today?” Kimera asked. It turned out she would be my personal assistant throughout the competition, always on call for whatever I required. And, right now, I required help with my makeup to conceal my bruised cheek.

  The creams she used on my face to help my skin seemed to be helping heal the bruise as well. Soon, I would just need general makeup assistance.

  “I don’t know. Should I be excited to meet him?” I asked. “He’s handsome from what I’ve seen and seems nice enough, but it’s not like I have butterflies in my stomach at the thought of meeting him.”

  “I’d be excited if I were you. Actually, I’m excited for you,” she said as she finished powdering my face to even out the color and dull the shine. “I’ve seen him around the palace several times and his smile melts my heart.”

  “Maybe you should replace me in the competition, then,” I said.

  “You’re funny.” Kimera stepped back to give me a moment to assess her work in the mirror.

  “You’re a professional,” I said. “I’d be a mess without you.”

  “You’re beautiful all by yourself… I simply enhance.”

  I didn’t know what Kimera knew about me—about any of us clones. It seemed like a dirty word, so I decided it was better to not bring it up; it was enough for the realization to be consuming my every thought.

  I strolled into the bedroom wearing my robe as Kimera ventured into the closet to put together the day’s prince-meeting ensemble. It was much more relaxing not having a soldier watching from the corner of the room, wielding an electrified baton. Kimera now trusted I had no intentions of harming her.

  When she emerged from the closet with the chosen dress, I asked, “Am I going to be wearing yellow for the next month?”

  She glanced down at the dress, then back at me. “It’s canary.”

  “I don’t care what shade of yellow it is. Is it the color I will be confined to throughout the competition?”

  “Only for formal events with the entire group.”

  This dress was shorter but still reached my knees, covering the weals on the backs of my legs, though I’d probably have to be strategic in how I sat.

  Once dressed, I left the room, enjoying my new-found freedom. The bedroom doors had some type of electronic locks controlled from a central location and they’d all been turned off. It was a little unnerving not being able to lock the door while I slept, but I guessed it wasn’t much different from my time in the cellar. The ability to keep others out did not outweigh being forcefully locked in.

  The house was beautiful and inspiring, but I’d much rather be outside, walking the grounds. I meandered through the gardens at the rear of the estate; there were stables beyond, and I leisurely headed in that direction.

  From a distance, I could already see several unsaddled horses grazing in the field. I held onto my shoes as I walked through the grass and up to the wood plank fence. I’d always resented not being allowed to wear shoes, but the feeling of the cool grass on my healing feet felt familiar and calming. Walking shoeless in the fresh grass was the one thing I could control.

  Among the unsaddled horses was a tan and white thoroughbred with a male rider. The horse galloped along the fence line, its rider slim and fit in white and red riding attire, helmet, and dark sunglasses. I watched him enviously, knowing there was no way I could join him in my current condition. My butt hurt just thinking about bouncing along on the saddle or straining my leg muscles to hover above it.

  When the horse rounded the perimeter of the fence, approaching me, the rider pulled on the reins to slow his horse to a trot.

  “Hey there,” the man said as his thoroughbred stopped before me.

  I reached over the fence and stroked the magnificent creature’s muzzle. “Hey there, yourself.”

  The rider removed his sunglasses and riding helmet. “You must be Victoria.”

  “Good guess,” I said, suddenly recognizing the rider from the hologram message received at the Ramsey estate. “And I presume you’re Prince Byron?”

  He didn’t quite look like the clean-cut Prince Byron from the hologram, but it was definitely him. His dark hair fell in all directions creating the perfect mess. Thick stubble covered his face, his eyebrows bold, and his gray eyes smoldering, making him look at home with the brawny riders of the Outlands, not royalty.

  “Guilty,” he said. His gaze on me was intense. “I’m not supposed to be here yet. I arrived early and thought I’d get in a little riding before cleaning up. It clears my head.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Do you ride?”

  I nodded. “I do, but not today.”

  “Oh, but you must join me. I insist.”

  I knew I wouldn’t survive if I went out there. “It wouldn’t be proper. I’m dressed for our official introduction later this afternoon.” I held up my shoes dangling from one hand to reinforce my point.

  “I can see that. And a very lovely shade of yellow, I might add.”

  “Canary,” I said with a smirk, gaining a
bit of confidence.

  The intensity of his eyes on me only seemed to strengthen. I found myself leaning into the fence like my body was being pulled forward. His boot in the stirrup was only inches away.

  “Okay… I do appreciate learning new things. Since I can’t convince you to ride with me, what else interests you, Miss Sandalwood?” Prince Byron asked.

  “Do you know what ward I’m from too?”

  “The 24th.”

  “Did you memorize the basic information on all of us?” I asked.

  “I’ve done my homework,” he said with a smile that deepened the dimples in his cheeks, giving him a boyish charm beneath the hard stubble. “We’ll soon see if it was enough.”

  “Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” said a voice from behind me.

  The expression on the Prince’s face had made no indication anyone was approaching until that moment; his gaze left me for the first time since the start of our conversation. I turned and saw Constance ten yards away, approaching fast.

  “It seems we have a frontrunner already stealing the Prince away for a little one-on-one time before he’s even scheduled to arrive,” she said, stopping beside me and linking an elbow with mine. “Isn’t my sister super cute in yellow? She’s like a perfect little doll I could set on a shelf and stare upon for hours.”

  “Canary,” Prince Byron said, giving me a knowing grin.

  “I beg your pardon?” Constance lay her head on my shoulder, staring longingly up at her possible prize.

  “The shade of yellow is canary,” he clarified.

  “And I see you’re more than an Adonis—knowledgeable, worldly and wise.”

  “Not as much as your sister here.”

  Constance lifted her head and gave me a sidelong glance, seemingly deciding how to take the comment. She turned her attention back to him. “I also love to ride. Would you like company out there?”

  “I wouldn’t want to mess up your dress or your hair or anything else when you’re so perfectly put together,” the Prince said.