8. Cora
Cora
With a kiss of my cheek, my father sends me back to my rooms without seeming to worry that I am angry. Perhaps I am in a rage! I cannot even decide why.
“I want to change,” I request sternly, controlling my voice as much as I can. It’s not often that I feel quite like a brat but once I’ve spoken I second guess my tone. “Please,” I add, knowing full well I cannot untie myself from this contraption.
It’s not Alice’s or Blanche’s fault that any of this has happened.
I don’t know whose fault it is—whether it is mine, or my father’s, or some other party that wishes for me to become so frustrated by the prospect of marriage that I refuse entirely or settle for a man I do not want—but I shall not take it out on the women who are the closest people to me in the castle. “I want out of this gown now. Please.”
They fuss over me, taking off the outer layers carefully so that they don’t disturb my hair.
“You don’t need to worry about it. I will not be going down to dinner. Or lunch. I will…I will go ride. I need my riding clothes. And some food to take with me.”
“Princess, we—”
“If you are worried, then send a guard with a basket. I will eat by the stream. It will be good for me.” I lower my voice to add, “I need the fresh air.”
What I need is to get away from this castle, and this prince, and the way he didn’t even care to look at me. My emotions are a swirl of hurt.
I know I would feel much better if I had the shadow man’s hands on me again. If he would come and make me writhe on his cock. He cannot have been in my rooms more than an hour. I would not need more than an hour, and then I can guarantee my mood would be much improved.
Though nothing will improve the situation I am soon to find myself in.
Even if this prince decides he is interested in me, that could change in an instant.
When the palace physician announces that I am not a virgin, whatever opinion he has of me will be forever altered.
That is true of all the princes who have come to see me and left again without making any formal overtures.
I cannot decide why it bothers me so much more with this man than the others. Prince Jasper did not seem encouraged to please me. He did not seem motivated to kiss my knuckles, though he was in his riding clothes, so perhaps he was trying to spare me the scent of sweat and horse.
But why was he in riding clothes? Why did he ride here instead of traveling in a carriage? He had to have known I would be presented to him upon his arrival. That is the way it is done, and he is the one who sent word that he was coming, so it cannot have been a mistake.
Nothing about Prince Jasper makes any sense to me.
I ride across the fields under a slightly cloudy sky and admit to myself that he makes me curious.
He does not do things in the usual way, and I find it frustrating.
I should feel the same way about him as I did about all the other princes, but I don’t. I wanted him to speak to me. I wanted to look into his eyes and see what thoughts I could discern there. I wanted him to pay attention to me.
That is quite a change.
I ride to a small pavilion by the stream and wait for my guards to catch up with me.
One of them takes my horse to graze, and the other opens the woven picnic basket the kitchens have sent for me.
He lays out the various dishes and utensils they’ve packed, then takes up a post a short distance away so I may have solitude. Which I am grateful for.
I do not feel like eating roast chicken and sugar-glazed sweets off silverware. I came out here to escape the castle and escape the long wait until tea tomorrow, so I pull an apple out of the basket. I don’t slice it with a knife. I just bite into it. The skin breaks crisply under my teeth.
“You could have come riding with me, if you were already in your riding clothes,” I comment to the prince, though he’s not here to bear my snide remark guised as an invitation. Perhaps I will say so at tea tomorrow. Or perhaps I will be too ashamed.
I’ve been trying to ignore the shame. Beside the burbling stream, I close my eyes and try my best to accept the truth.
The truth is I have a secret lover. I have had a secret lover, at least once. I spend my days wondering where he has gone and why he does not come to me. It has not been so long since that night in my rooms, only days, but it feels like months.
By meeting with all these suitors, am I betraying myself, or am I betraying him?
Is there even anything to betray, when I am the only one who spoke, and he did not make any promises?
“I feel that it should count as a promise, to come to a princess’s bed and fuck her simply because she said she wanted it,” I mention to the stream. The bubbling hum of the water continues undeterred by my statement.
The stream doesn’t judge me, but it also doesn’t provide me with any answers. I finish the apple and toss the core into the trees nearby.
By then, of course, I am hungry, so I eat the roast chicken and the glazed sweets after all.
They’re very good. But still I am unsettled.
Isabel waits for me when I return to the castle.
Her pale blue cotton sundress flows in the breeze.
She’s a vision of a maiden with her dark hair pinned back and a sun-kissed glow.
She comes out of a sitting room and looks wide-eyed at me.
My dear friend is a sight to see. Instantly my heart collapses.
As if I needed more guilt to weigh me down.
She will not understand. I know it so. She’s spoken so fondly of Philip and her first time. How special it was. I swallow thickly.
“Cora! I did not realize you were out riding for a competition,” she scolds and yet I diminish it by pretending I did not hear her harsh tone.
“I wasn’t,” I say. “I was only getting some air.”
“And having a picnic, I heard.” She states with her fists on her hips. Surely something has gotten into her, and I don’t appreciate it.
“Yes, well, it is not forbidden,” I inform her while wrestling with my own unease.
She blinks at me, clearly surprised at my tone. “Did something happen on your ride?”
“No, it was lovely. I rode out to the stream and ate a lovely dinner. I walked a bit, and then I rode back. I did not think there was any hurry.”
“Not on my account, there wasn’t. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go back out? I will ride with you, if you do.” Her eyes are prying and they force my gaze away, lest she sees too much.
Licking my lips I wonder what all she surmises as I undress my boots. I know I’m being unfair to her. I tell myself it is because I have been riding, and I am sore, and I need fresh clothes.
“I just need to change.” I offer her a warm smile, though I think we both know it is not genuine. “Will you wait downstairs, or do you want to come up?”
“You’ll need a quick bath,” Alice states from a few feet away. It appears she accompanied Isabel. I nod, understanding and at the same time wipe a bit of mud, partially dried, from my arm.
“I’ll come with you,” she says, as if she might be worried about me. “How was the stream? Did you go to that adorable pavilion? I quite liked it there, when we visited last.”
“Next time, we can go together. It was…spontaneous. I would have written to you, but I left quickly.”
“I understand,” she says. “You will feel better after a bath.”
A hot bath does sound enticing. “Let me prepare it with Alice and then she can bring you in?”
There’s a settee in the bathroom where she’s sat more than once while advising me on her adventures.
It should have a plaque with her name on it.
It brings me back to when we were children.
The two of us were close because we were the only princesses for miles until her sister was born, often spending time at each other’s castles so we would not be alone.
I’ve not heard much of her sister lately.
While I’m in the bath, I tell Isabel about the stream of suitors that has suddenly appeared at the palace.
Staring blankly at the ceiling to avoid my nakedness, she asks a few questions about them, but the longer I talk, the more her frown deepens.
The bathing oils that sit just beneath the steam hide my nakedness her from but still she looks away.
The water sloshes as I clean myself of the grime from the day and the stench of the horse. No offense to my dear Galen.
Alice and Blanche help me out of the bath. Isabel goes to get my underdress, and when I am in it, she joins me in the dressing room along with Alice, who takes pride in my hair.
The room itself is fairly small, with a thick damask wallpaper and carved wood sitting chairs with fabric-fastened cushions that match. My eyes dart to the dresser; it was my mother’s. The painting has chipped, and I make a mental note to repair it.
“Cora,” Isabel says gently. “Forgive me, but it does not sound as if you are giving these suitors a chance.”
“Doesn’t it?” I question. Alice rearranges my hair in the mirror.
Faced with my own reflection, I know that I do not look as placid as I should.
I try to smooth out the line in my brow and at least set my mouth in a neutral line instead of letting the corners turn down.
“I have sat with them. I have had tea with some of them. I have even walked in the garden.”
“I have heard…”
“From whom?” I immediately question, my tone accusatory. Alice, who’s busied herself with my hair, stills at my tone.
“I have heard from your father that you do not seem to want to speak to these men. He says you hardly look at them. He says you only speak when it is necessary, and sometimes not even then.”
“Well,” I say, uncertainty spiking in me. “Well, I…I did not choose them. I do not even know why they are coming in droves when they have had a year to do so. More than a year! Some arrangements are made for princesses when they are seventeen. Yours was!”
“It was,” she agrees, “but Prince Philip and I knew each other as children. We had lessons together, and grew up together, and it only seemed to be a natural conclusion that we would be betrothed, then wed. If I had an objection, I surely would have given it. But you—”
“I wasn’t allowed to know anyone.”
“Cora,” she says softly. “Your father—” She starts but doesn’t finish.
“My father what?” I question, looking her in her eyes.
“Your father cares for you. And he cared for your mother. And of course it’s not for me to say, but—”
Isabel hesitates from where she stands idly by the dresser, peering out the window.
I want to snap at her. I want to tell her to say nothing about my mother.
An agony I’ve done my best to bury resurfaces.
As tears prick at the back of my eyes, I want to say that she knew nothing of my mother and has no right to speak of her.
But Isabel did know my mother before she passed.
We grew up together as closely as she did with Philip, and she did know her, and now that my mother is gone, I should not give up any opportunity to hear what she might have thought.
To know how another person might have seen her. This is all I have left of her, really.
My throat tightens with unspoken pain. Still I urge her. “Say it.” Alice finishes with my hair and slips away, leaving the two of us to our conversation.
“Your mother wanted you to have a chance to marry for love,” Isabel says and her tone is gentle.
Needing fresh air, I open the small arched window and allow the breeze to come in.
Then I retake my seat. Isabel continues standing and this time, her arms cross as if holding one another.
“She knew it was not a guarantee. It’s never a guarantee, for royalty.
But she wanted you to have a chance. Perhaps she wanted it so badly that she wanted only the finest suitors to come to you.
Perhaps…after she passed away, your father took that idea to an extreme. ”
“He told suitors not to come?” That’s a bit more of an accusation than Alice let on.
“No, no,” Isabel says quickly, tucking her dark hair behind her ear.
“I am only suggesting that there may have been a…feeling at court that your father did not want you to be overwhelmed with young men. Perhaps he meant to have others at court and time slipped away. I do not know for sure, but I do not think your mother and father kept you from meeting a boy, or a man, out of malice. I am certain it was out of love.”
All of this makes me feel worse, not better. “Alice hinted of such things,” I tell her when her expression falls. “I already had an idea of what had happened so you don’t need to feel guilty,” I admit to her and my words seem to give her reassurance.
With a soft sigh she offers me a smile and then finally takes a seat next to mine.
“I think you must give them a chance, Cora. Talk to them. Get to know them. Perhaps you will find someone you wish to spend more time with, and that is the first step. But you cannot do that if you will not speak to them.”
“Isabel,” I say, my control over my voice finally beginning to break. “I hear what you are saying. I hear that you care for me, and you want me to be happy.”
“Then why not take my advice? Prince Jasper will not see you until tea tomorrow, so you have time to gather yourself. You have time to get used to the idea of speaking with him, and showing him the best of what you can be, and if there is no spark—”
“You don’t understand,” I hiss, unable to control my frustration. “You don’t understand anything.”
She gasps, a hand to her heart, and I apologize. Slowly, she clasps her hands in front of her. I can see in her eyes that she is surprised and hurt that I would speak this way to her, but I cannot help it.
“You’re different today,” she says, after a silence.
“Yes,” I say, my voice much calmer and with a saddened note. I am almost as astonished as she is. I’m not in the habit of speaking to people like this. I am not in the habit of feeling like this. “I am different. I will not subject you to any more of my…difference.”
It’s then that I realize, she’ll judge me too. I know she will and that very fact pulls me from the moment.
I storm out of my own rooms, moving quickly down the halls, tears stinging in my eyes.
They are from fury and sadness and even—I am horrified to realize—some regret.
I’ve made everyone frustrated and angry, including my father.
I have been rude to many suitors because I hoped they had come sooner, though they couldn’t have known that.
But most of all, I’m angry with myself. I took a lover who did not speak to me, who did not let me see his face. I have permanently ruined my reputation, and I think the only way to repair it—the only possibility—would be to find the man from the shadows, who does not want to be found.