The Princess in the Opal Mask (20 page)

“Yes. I mean, no . . . I am going . . . to take a walk on the beach.” I will, after all, have to walk down the beach before locating the staircase leading up the cliff. I do not relish that climb.

“Right then,” he says, looking as though he does not believe me. “Wait here just a moment.” He exits through the door to the kitchen, and when he returns a moment later he holds up a sack stuffed with a loaf of bread and a roll of cheese.

“Walks make people hungry,” he says simply, pressing the sack into my hands.

Something catches in my throat. I have received many gifts before, oftentimes from the richest men in Galandria. But rarely have I received something that was offered solely because someone saw I had a need for it.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you is always good,” he says and flashes his crooked smile. “It’s too bad, really. You would have been the prettiest tenant Victor’s ever had.”

“Thank you,” I say, swallowing. I tell James good-bye and step outside, before I can change my mind.

The streets smell like wood smoke, and the city is quiet except for the sound of seagulls screeching overhead. It must have rained late in the night, because the streets look like puddled mirrors. When I look down I see my grim, maskless reflection staring back. What will happen when I return to the castle? Will I be received as a missing princess? Or as an escaped prisoner?

While I walk I nibble on the bread and cheese, shivering under my thin cloak. How can it be this cold in the summer?

When I reach the docks, I head toward the beach and see the cliffs rising up in the distance, but quickly stop. Anton and Jaromil suddenly emerge from behind a cluster of large rocks. They seem to be talking to someone else; someone still hidden behind the rocks. I crane my neck, trying to see who it is they are speaking with, and my heart quickens. I remember they were seeing about a job, something to do with the masquerade. What type of job requires so much secrecy?

I jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s all right, it’s just me,” Victor says with a concerned look on his face. “Didn’t you hear me, Willie? I was calling your name.”

“Um, no, I did not.” I glance back over my shoulder. Anton and Jaromil are still there. They appear to be listening carefully to whoever is behind the rock. “I had thought to take a walk early this morning.”

“I always fancy a good walk in the morning, myself,” Victor says. “And Rowan’s Rock is as good a place as any.”

“Yes, and—” I break off as his words register. “Rowan’s Rock?”

Victor nods. “It’s the big rock over there, the one rising up in the ocean,” he clarifies. “It was named after Rowan the Brave, the Galandrian queen. She had been condemned to death nearly a century ago, and yet, the night before her execution, she was spotted on this beach near that rock. The next day it was discovered she’d vanished from the castle. Legend says you can still see her sometimes, weeping for the kingdom she lost.” He offers me a burly arm. “Galina gets an early start, and I’m almost through here. Had to purchase fish for tonight’s dinner at the inn. Shall we head over to her shop now?”

I hesitate, trying to think of good excuse to tell him no, and look over at Anton and Jaromil one last time. They have turned to face the docks where Victor and I stand, and seem to be staring at something in the distance. For a brief moment, I am certain they are looking at me.

“That would be lovely,” I say quickly, deciding that I will have to climb the cliff later. As we set off toward the city, I tell myself I’m being ridiculous, that of course they were not looking at me.

I also tell myself that the numbness I feel spreading through my chest is simply from the cold.

A
small bell jingles when Victor pushes open the door to Galina’s dress shop. Shelves containing bolts of lace and brightly colored fabrics line the room. A mirror sits in the corner. Upon a large claw-footed wooden desk are silver boxes of shiny buttons and glass jars filled with thread. Several girls about my age are seated on light green velvet couches. Each of them are busy stitching.

“Is Galina around?” Victor asks.

A girl with hair the color of spun gold stands. “Hi, Victor!” She glances at me and smiles. “Have another one for us, do you? Galina!” she calls to the back of the shop, “Victor’s here again!” She turns back to me. “I’m Kyra.”

“I am—Willie,” I answer, almost forgetting my new name, and a couple of the other girls laugh quietly.

I glance over at them, and am surprised to read the distaste in their eyes. Some of the girls are openly staring at my stained traveling cloak and dirty boots. It reminds me of the way the ladies at court stared at the peasants who came to the Opal Palace to see me wave from the balcony.

An older woman with white hair tied up in a severe bun emerges from a back room. Her eyes glance from me to Victor. “I don’t need another mouth to feed,” she says flatly.

“Galina, this is Willie,” Victor says. “She says she knows embroidery well.”

“I don’t have a place for her to sleep,” Galina says, unmoved. “I gave the only bed I had to the girl you brought me last week.”

“I’ve already given her a room at the Sleeping Dragon. Will you give her a job?” Victor smiles and raises his eyebrows, and despite his massive size and gruff manner, he looks charming, like an old, grizzled prince.

“Oh honestly, Victor. How many more strays do you intend to take in?” Galina glowers at him, and then sighs and turns to me. “Do you have any samples?”

“Samples?” I ask, confused.

“Of your work,” she says, tight-lipped. “If I am to hire you, I must know you have the appropriate skills.” She casts Victor a furious look, and I read the dismissal in her eyes when she turns back to me. It is a look I saw often from Arianne and Vena.

Suddenly, I am not standing here simply because I did not wish to be left alone on a beach with Anton and Jaromil. I
want
this job. Once I return to the Kyrenican Castle, any adventure I may have hoped to find will fade and will be replaced by the demands of royal life, and people like Arianne and Vena, who see me as nothing more than useless and fearful.

I left the castle on my own accord. I will return to it when I have found a story to hang on to during the lonely days and years that are sure to follow. I see the image again, of me telling my daughter my story. The one only
I
know.

“Here.” I hastily pull the handkerchief I had been sew-ing on the journey to Kyrenica from my cloak and hand it to Galina.

Victor and I wait while she examines the stitching. “The technique here is excellent,” she says.

“Thank you,” I answer, and as I stare at the dresses the other girls are working on I realize my skills far surpass theirs. This is unsurprising, I suppose, given all the practice I have had over the years. There was little else to do in the Opal Palace when I was not waving from a balcony or attending a royal engagement.

“These are the Andewyn and Strassburg coat of arms,” Galina says, looking up.

“Yes,” I answer quickly. “I intended it as a wedding present to the Masked Princess. I hear she is due to arrive in the city soon.”

“We really could use more help,” Kyra says. “You were just saying so yesterday.”

Galina nods and it is settled. She motions to the girls and they shift around on the couches, making a place for me. After inviting me to dine with him and James tonight at the Sleeping Dragon, Victor leaves, and Galina hands me a needle and a spool of thread.

“Now then,” she says, “King Ezebo has planned a masquerade in the Masked Princess’s honor, and orders are already pouring in from ladies who are attending. I need someone to assist me with the embroidery on their dresses. Can you do that?”

Galina stares at me expectantly, and something deep in my chest seems to detach and float up and out of my mouth in a laugh.

“Yes,” I gasp amid everyone’s curious stares, “I can stitch dresses for the princess’s masquerade.”

T
hankfully my head is still attached to my neck. Somehow I’ve managed to survive my first two days in the Kyrenican Castle. The dinner with the Kyrenican nobles went all right—I think. The ladies complimented my mask and dress excessively. Of course, they also seemed positively gleeful when I knocked over a wine glass.

After dinner, Leandra and Ruby escorted me back to my room. It seems I am expected to stay in my chambers when I’m not visiting with the Strassburgs or attending an engagement. I had planned on exploring the passageway after everyone retired for the evening, but after a day of pretending, I was exhausted and fell asleep.

I was still tired when I woke up this morning. Wilha  asked for time. How much does she expect me to give her? When I put my mask on today—a pale lemon-colored one with yellow fire opals that matches one of Wilha’s yellow gowns—it felt heavier than ever.

As Milly helps me get ready for tea with Queen Genevieve, my thoughts turn to the squire. I have watched the comings and goings of the servants, but haven’t spot-ted him again. Has he left the castle? Our conversation in the kitchen was the only part of the last two days that I’ve actually enjoyed.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Milly says, fastening a ribbon in my hair. “You received pigeons.”

“Pigeons?” I repeat, snapping out of my reverie. What is she talking about?

“Carrier pigeons?” Milly frowns. “Letters from the Opal Palace?”

“Oh yes, of course,” I say hastily. “I’m sorry Milly. I’m feeling a bit dull today.”

I press my nails into the palm of my hand and command myself to stop thinking about the squire and
concentrate
. I can’t forget, not even for a moment, where I am. And who I’m supposed to be.

Milly hands me two folded pieces of parchment, and tells me that the princesses Leandra and Ruby will come and fetch me for tea. After she excuses herself, I move to the sitting room and settle myself on an armchair. I take off my mask and blow out a breath.

I open the first letter. It’s carefully worded, and very,
very
interesting. It’s from a soldier named Patric. I gather he was training Wilha to defend herself, which surprises me. I read his message several times over. I think I read, too, what he is so carefully trying
not
to say, and I’m surprised again. I wouldn’t have thought Wilha capable of what I suspect I see in this letter.

I open the second letter and it is from Lord Quinlan.

Your Highness,

I hope you reached Kyrenica safely. Lord Royce, Lord Murcendor, and I expect to arrive in Korynth shortly before the masquerade and look forward to meeting with King Ezebo. Please remind your maid of her duty to you and to us.

His words, too, are carefully worded, yet I understand the meaning of the last line:

Guard the princess. Find out what you can about Ezebo, and if he intends to honor the treaty.

A knock sounds at the door. “Come in,” I say absently, still holding the letter. Since I was received by Ezebo and Gen-evieve yesterday I’ve heard nothing to indicate that they are anything less than extremely pleased about the treaty. So what does Lord Quinlan expect me to do? Break into Ezebo’s—

The door opens and a scream echoes.

“Wilha, your mask!” Leandra says with a hand raised to her eyes, looking ready to faint. Behind her, Ruby stares at me wide-eyed.

I quickly snatch up my mask and tie it on, cursing my own idiocy.

“You’re not supposed to take it off!” Leandra cries. “No one is ever supposed to see your face!”

“I know,” I say, rushing over and leading her to an armchair. “I was thoughtless. I’m sorry.”

Ruby tugs at my skirt. “Wilha, are we cursed now?” she asks in a hushed voice. “Will we die?”

Leandra gives a frightened whimper and hides her head in her hands.

I crouch down until I’m level with Ruby. “No,” I reassure her firmly. “You will both be fine, I promise. No one in this room is cursed, not even me. It’s just a rumor, and not a very nice one.”

“I don’t understand,” Ruby says. Her eyes search my mask, but I think she’s seeing beyond it, imagining my face. “You are not very ugly.”

“Does that mean I’m only a little ugly?” I ask, and I see Leandra, color returning to her cheeks, suppress a grin.

“No,” Ruby says, seeming to be thinking hard. “But if you are not cursed, and you are not really ugly, then why do you have to wear the mask?”

I decide to tell Ruby a small truth, one I’m sure Wilha herself would agree with. “Because of all the things my father, King Fennrick the Handsome, has valued in this world, his daughter’s happiness is not one of them.”

“Y
ou are different than I expected,” Leandra says as we make our way to Genevieve’s chambers. Now that she has gotten over her fright, she’s resumed her usual formal air.

“Oh? How so?” I keep my voice casual and my eyes fixed on Ruby, who has skipped ahead of us.