16. Cora
Cora
I sleep heavily, to my surprise, but my morning begins with a deep longing.
I wish for life not to be so heavy.
I’m greeted with another shock the moment I open my eyes.
There is a bottle on my bedside table. A bottle in a familiar shape. The glass bottle does not have a label on it, or any sort of writing, but I know just from its shape and size that it’s a tincture to prevent pregnancy.
At first, I hide my head under the pillow and pray for the bottle to disappear. I cannot face what it means that someone—likely a member of the staff—has placed this bottle in just this place, knowing that I would see it immediately when I woke.
When it has become too hard to breathe under the pillows, I uncover my head, hoping that the tincture will be gone.
It is still there.
I find myself grateful then, because the tincture can only mean one thing—the staff knows I have dallied with men.
They may not know that I have slept with two men, but they know—or at least they suspect with enough confidence to be the same as knowing—that I may need such a tincture if I am to proceed with marriage arrangements.
I lie there for a few minutes, watching the bottle. I should leap up and drink it without another moment to lose, but something in me warns that I should not be too hasty.
I let out a laugh at that idea. It is far too late for me to question if I have rushed too fast into such things. Still, I do not reach for the bottle until I climb out of bed. I tuck it into a drawer with a plan to transfer it to my pocket later, so that I may have it with me at all times.
Alice and Blanche come to make me ready for the day. They are lighthearted and chatter with each other and with me as they bring me the things I need to bathe and dress, then help me into another new gown.
“I promise, she did not stay up nights working on this one,” Blanche tells me, her expression serious. “I made sure she slept. But the palace seamstress is a talented woman, and it did not take her long to fashion this gown for you. I think it will be fit for any activity you might take up today.”
I had nearly forgotten about my irritation on the palace seamstress’s behalf, and mean to comment on it, but something Blanche has said stands out to me.
“Tell her I am glad she did not—wait, Blanche, what do you mean? What activities might I take up?”
I glance in the mirror at the gown they are lacing for me. It is suitable for tea, certainly, and even a walk in the garden. It is of a sweet, blush color, but not so light as to show wear, perhaps from travel.
“I only meant,” Blanche says, meeting my eyes in the mirror, “that it will suit any occasion. Except, perhaps, an evening ball.”
Alice and she share a short laugh at that, though I cannot rid myself of the suspicion that Blanche knows more than I do.
“You did walk in the garden with Prince Jasper,” Alice adds softly. “And he did take you in the carriage. All the servants were astonished that he would drive the carriage himself. He must be quite a capable prince.”
“Yes,” agrees Blanche. “I would think there is nothing he could not do.”
They are careful not to make this an innuendo, but it is one nonetheless. And…it is true. It seems to me that there is nothing Prince Jasper cannot do. He can sail, drive a carriage, fight in war unscathed, and converse with me on topics I am barely honest with myself about.
The reminder of scars dampens my mood and reminds me of a different love.
At that thought, there is, however, one thing that I do not know if Jasper is capable of. I do not know if he is capable of forgiving me for going back to my secret lover. I was not honest, and for that, I am ashamed.
“Are you all right, Princess?” Alice asks. She is watching my face in the mirror, and I have begun to show the torture of my situation.
I smile at her again to reassure her. “I’ve been thinking far too much lately. I was lost in thought again.”
“Who could blame you? There is so very much happening,” Blanche comments.
“Oh! And there are guests this morning, so you’ll be needing this.” Alice places my tiara on my head, and that is the last piece I need before I am prepared to go down to breakfast.
I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. Today I must tell him everything. I cannot continue to have my heart break from being torn by two lovers.
My father meets me at the top of the grand staircase, just as he did when he escorted me down to see all the suitors. Just as he did when he took me down to see Prince Jasper for the first time, when he was still in his riding clothes.
“Good morning, daughter,” he says, with something in his eyes that I cannot name at once. Is it fondness or fear? Perhaps some of both. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” I tell him. “And you?”
“Very well.” He hesitates before continuing, “This morning, before we have breakfast, there is an introduction I must make to you.”
“An introduction? To another prince?” I try to keep my voice calm, but I fear I do not manage it entirely. “I thought Prince Jasper… I thought he had requested that all other suitors wait for a week.”
“So he did, and so I agreed.” My father smiles at me, and I do recognize that smile—it is the one he used to give me when he wanted to reassure me as a child.
Much like the one I gave Alice earlier. I’m embarrassed to find that it does not work very well on me, and likely didn’t work on her.
What did she know that I don’t? What does my father know?
He continues, “I have not broken my word. There is no other suitor awaiting us. On the contrary, it is a relative of the prince’s. His brother has come to the castle to be introduced. You will be pleased to know that your friend, Isabel has come to be here for the occasion.”
“His brother,” I echo, my stomach dropping. The brother who he had spoken about with such pain. The brother who had been captured during the war. “Is he… I had heard Prince Jasper had a brother, but I do not know—”
“You need not be nervous, my daughter. He is a quiet man and will not disturb you.”
Disturb me? I flinch at his description. I wish, even more strongly, that Prince Jasper had shared more with me about his brother, a man who holds great importance in his life. I wish I was more prepared.
But I am not, and I will not be, so I hold my head high in front of my father and all the staff who are watching and go with him to meet the prince’s brother.
My father guides us past the great hall to a smaller sunroom.
“Isabel awaits us here, along with the prince’s brother,” my father says, and we enter.
I see Isabel first and flash her a grateful smile. There are others in the room—a page and cupbearer of ours, and a few others I do not recognize who must have come with the prince’s brother.
I curtsy deeply to him, since he is himself a prince. “I am so pleased to meet you, Prince…”
“Casen,” my father supplies. I only have a moment to realize that the prince himself should have given his name.
“Prince Casen,” I finish and rise from my curtsy to see his face. As I lift my head my mouth drops and my world spins.
It is the man from the shadows. My lover. My scarred dark knight. Shock keeps me still and I struggle to compose myself.
There is no mistaking him. His face is scarred, just as it was last night, and the resemblance to Prince Jasper is both stronger and weaker in various ways. I cannot tell if they were once identical or if it is the scarring that has made them so different. They have similar dark hair, but I—
I cannot tell—
I cannot breathe.
“I am pleased to meet you,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He inclines his head to me, but does not speak.
“I—” I do not know what to say.
“Perhaps this is moving too quickly,” my father interrupts. “Perhaps we should reconsider—”
“No!” I shout, far too loud. It startles all the servants in the room. “I just… I just need a moment.”
Isabel rushes to my side, and my father goes to Prince Casen. I do not know what he says in his ear. “I apologize, I didn’t.”
“The princess is feeling faint,” Isabel announces. “I will take her to get some air, and all will be well. My apologies Prince Casen.”
Surely they feel it’s his appearance that’s made me this way. An awful sickness runs through me as my mind races. They’re brothers. Do they know then? When I told Casen… I didn’t say which prince did I?
Isabel, ever my dear friend, whisks me from the room.
We stand near an open window, and she fans my face.
Fretting over me. Her dress is quite like mine but blue once again and she wears her tiara as well.
I cannot believe it is him. This must be some sort of nightmare.
Or is it a dream? How will I tell them both?
How will I explain this to anyone? Will I need to explain it to anyone?
I do not faint, but it is a very near thing. My vision clouds at the edges, but I remind myself that I am not hurt, and it is not the shock everyone thinks it is. My surprise is only because the prince’s brother is the stranger in the shadows. They were one and the same.
I cannot believe it. With the realization solidified, I nearly get sick. They’re going to hate me.
“Are you all right, Cora?” Isabel asks with a tightness in her voice, still fanning me. “Do you need to sit or go back to your rooms?” She speaks with an urgency but also with a fright. I’ve startled her and didn’t mean to.
“I’m all right,” I answer her in a hushed voice, hoping it will become true as I say it.
“It’s just a scar,” she says, soothing me. “And he’s healed now, home and safe from the war, and will not be called to fight again. You do not need to worry. There is nothing to fear from him. He’s a kind prince.”
I swallow hard, wanting to confide in her. Wanting to tell her everything that has happened, and everything I know about this man, so that Isabel can tell me what to do. My head whirls once again.
“Cora,” she says, scanning my face. “If there is something else you need to tell me, you know I will keep your confidences. You know I would never betray your secrets, if—”
She holds my hands in hers. “You can tell me.”
“I’m not sure—”
I swallow hard, once again unable to form the sentences that would lay this out as cleanly as possible without making either of us—any of us—look as if we had fallen into sin that we could not recover from.
Before I can speak, a page appears at my side. It is not one of my own or one of the castle. It is one of the men who came with Prince Casen.
Or perhaps he is one of the pages who came with Prince Jasper. He’s young and in brown linen garb.
Perhaps they brought many of the same people. My throat is thick with guilt at the thought.
“Yes?” I ask, because he looks a bit nervous to be approaching Isabel and me. “Do you have a message?”
“I do, Princess,” he says, and bows his head apologetically. “Prince Jasper requires your presence at once.”