Chapter III

As it had done on so many occasions before, the Queen's words proved to be final. She did not pretend to leave me with a choice; and I did not delude myself into thinking I had one. Any desire of hers was as good as law. This we, the Hidden Court, knew better than anyone - how else could we have been secreted away, erased out of existence for so long, were it not for her word? Thus, when I rejoined the group and relayed in quiet tones the subject of our heated exchange, although they exclaimed in horror at the treasonous, dishonourable nature of her command, their pitying eyes and soothing touches acknowledged that however unpalatable my new task might be, there was little anyone could do to object.

Father did not take it so kindly. "This is madness. Over my dead body!" he declared baldly.

But even he knew that even that would make very little difference to the Queen's resolve. Her mind was made and nothing short of a miracle would ever persuade it otherwise

"But what will happen to us?" some members of the court fretted, once the shock over the unwelcome news had somewhat subsided. For the time being, we remained imprisoned high up in the sealed East Wing. The inscrutable stone walls would betray nothing of the turmoil spinning inside. "We know everything. She will become more suspicious of us than ever."

The answer became clear in the following days, following the arrival of a heavy scroll from Her Majesty the Queen herself, sealed with the heavy royal insignia. All members of our little miscellaneous group were to be reassigned to various aspects of court life, and slowly reintegrated back into proceedings. Some met this development with joy, others with caution.

"Be alert. Now we will never be truly free," they mused pensively. "She will keep us under a closer watch than ever. They will fear for a careless slip of tongue."

"We would never be so ignorant," old Mrs Reynolds said firmly, giving me with a fiercely motherly stare. She squeezed my hand strongly. "Not if it meant endangering Noelle here."

I looked upon her kind, wrinkled face soberly before kneeling on the carpet and placing my head in her lap. "I am sorry," I whispered with difficulty. "Even now, I still cause you so much trouble."

"There, there." She stroked my hair comfortingly. "There is no use in being sad. It is not your fault, girl. Fate has dealt you a difficult hand, yes. But I am certain you will find strength and honesty in the darkness. Now, up you get. You are a Princess now, no?"

Thus, with the seemingly inevitable future suddenly planned and decided, I was able to adopt a mask of indifference as a secret stream of dressmakers and tutors began to trickle into the elusive East Wing, all painfully deferent and utterly convinced I was the true Princess. Their respectful bows and curtseyed never failed to set my teeth on edge. Ornate gowns were measured for, designed and made for every state occasion possible. Rolls of opulent fabric were paraded for me at my pleasure – sheer gauzes, spiralled chiffons, watery silks – oh, how my head spun at the decadence suddenly dangling from my fingertips! Teachers of history, geography and deportment began to lay claim to my schedule with fearsome regularity, for, the queen was efficient. We had only a month, and she was adamant that I be prepared as possible. I was made to memorize the Karlsburgian royal family tree, acquaint myself with every aspect of Valerian military history and learn the proper way to hold myself, walk and dance in royal company. In a way, I grew thankful for these innumerable lessons, as they successfully distracted me from the deceitful, dishonest nature of my task. Soon, it became evident that these new developments had not escaped the outer court – now it was forever possible to see a group of courtiers dallying in the courtyards surrounding our wing, hoping to spot hints of the reason behind the excited hum that seemed to tremble the very air.

Then one day, all too soon, the Queen took it upon herself to enter our quarters.

"You will be presented tomorrow", she stated coldly. We were once again alone in the Princess' old room. Her body was gone – where, I did not know. I feared the answer to that question. "All your tutors say your development has been remarkable. Only my most trusted advisors know of the betrothal. That too will be announced. Collectively, the people will celebrate you as a symbol of peace in this time of growing unease."

A knot formed in my stomach. This part I had conveniently ignored transition into reality.

"I will send for you early in the morning," she announced, before she departed.

I awoke, the next day, with the suffocating taste of death in my throat. My dreams had been occupied by my one time companion, the fallen Princess whom I was ordered to supplant. From her starry perch in the heavens, she shook her pale head at me with grave disappointment. No words issued from her throat, but the message was clear, etched across the sunken contours of her face – why had I betrayed her so? Why had I, who had spent the most hours by her bedside, abandoned honesty and virtue with such haste? In a delirious state, I knelt before her empty bed – for, it would forever be, in my memory, hers – and offered up one desperate prayer after the next, begging not for absolution, but that one day, before I departed this mortal life, I might have the chance to earn my redemption for the treachery that lay immediately before me.

It was in that trembling, terrified state that I was found by the Queen's most trusted guards who had come to escort me beyond the east wing into the unknown. Announcing themselves, they filed ceremoniously into the room, their eyes fixed to the ground, before their leader called them to attention. He took three steps in my direction – then fell heavily to his knees.

"Fair Princess," he declared loudly, mistaking my paralysing fear for reverence. "Forgive us for intruding upon your piety. We have come to escort you to the Queen."

Hours of etiquette lessons fled as I looked at them blindly, so acute was my fear. Sinister drumbeats echoed in my ear; tears clouded my vision. Oh, Princess, I thought despairingly. Vanquished – I am vanquished already!

The guard began to look at each other in consternation, as I remained immobile.

"Oh dear," came a soothing voice by the door. Relief flooded my senses as I raised my heavy head to see Mrs Reynolds smiling at me fondly from the door. The urge to throw myself into her embrace was overwhelming – yet, I could not move.

She turned to face the perplexed guard. "It appears the Princess is rather overwhelmed. She has been longing for this day for so long, I am afraid the emotion has overcome her."

The guard straightened, seemingly relieved by this explanation. "Of course," they mumbled alternately, their gruff voices blending into each other.

"-it is only natural-"

"-she must be tender hearted-"

"-the filial spirit of royalty indeed-"

Amongst their pandering shuffling, Mrs Reynolds raised her kindly old face to mine and gave me a terse nod. Gathering strength from her crinkled brown eyes, I summoned my courage.

"Thank you for waiting," I said steadily, in what I hoped was a calm voice, cutting through their awkward murmurs. "Please, lead the way."

It was with leaden, heavy steps that I was thus escorted from the east wing, the only court that I had ever known. No stone was not dear to me! No corner I would not have wept for! Memories of the days gone by began to crowd my mind's eye – two small figures swarming around the apartments with girlish giggles, gentle tales told by the fireside during the dark winter months, music and laughter – and joy! The simple, unadulterated happiness of those who lived in a world within a world. As we passed the cavernous reception room where my family, friends and loved were ceremoniously assembled, they bowed together, and in doing so, protected me and the terrible lie now placed squarely upon my shoulders. If I could have dug my nails against my flesh and torn out my heart, there and then, to fling at their feet, for their safekeeping, by God I would have!

As soon as the doors wung shut behind me, closing with a terrible dull thud, I seemed to descend into a curiously trance-like state. I let myself be led to the Queen's rooms through a secluded private passage – for I had not been formally presented yet – where the same seamstress who had made my gowns awaited to dress me. I was stripped and bathed in headily fragrant water, before hands gently towelled me dry and began to swathe me in layer after layer of rich golden fabric, some several shades darker than my hair. Heavy emeralds appeared and lined my throat, my hair was carefully swept up and sprinkled with starry diamonds. The candlelight, burning low, covered my vision in a fanciful yellow haze and I closed my eyes against their ministrations. The figure in the mirror no longer resembled myself, as thus I did not care to see it.

I did not see the Queen either.

As time went on, and nightfall descended, the sounds of the ball starting merrily below began to drift up to meet my unwilling ear. The maids passing the locked door could be heard chattering, recounting the ornamented guests that had suddenly appeared into their midst. The whinnying of horses of guests being led away to the stable began to pepper the sound of the first dances being struck up below. The cacophony was unruly.

By then, I had been left alone, as the seamstress and her assistants filed away, their task concluded. I stood alone, afraid to move lest I disrupt any of their careful work. Silence covered my senses and I began to grow apprehensive – so much so that I nearly missed the gentle knock on the door.

"Princess? It is time."