Chapter 13
“Princess? Princess Mirelle?”
There was that royal title again, one that felt more like a disguise than actually belonging to me. My name tugged on my consciousness, pulling me through the thick layers of slumber towards the surface. But sleep didn’t immediately relinquish its unyielding hold, keeping me bound.
“She’s not waking.” Even through my drowsiness, I could hear the panic lacing the proclamation from one of the nearby strangers. “Has the curse reclaimed her?”
“What will we tell Their Majesties?”
“Your Highness, please wake up.”
A clamor of voices rose around me. With each sound, I drifted further from the dream, until at last I felt myself slowly awaken.
I struggled to open my weighty eyelids, blinking in the faint light of pre-dawn.
I blearily looked around. Everything was hazy, but gradually my surroundings sharpened into focus.
When the world around me rematerialized, I found myself on the ground, no longer in the castle of ruins and neglect from the dream world but the palace that was entirely whole.
Yet for all its gilded splendor, the colors seemed muted compared to the vividness of the dream I’d just departed, the details obscured, as if I were examining all of them through a wet windowpane.
A halo of guards surrounded me, the only ones I recognized being Garrett, Marcus, and Captain Tomas, who knelt beside me, steadying me in his arms. The coldness of the stones was negated by the guard’s arms, yet somehow they weren’t nearly as comforting as the sensation I’d experienced in the dream Evander’s hold—a contrast as similar to a hard makeshift prison bed compared to the luxurious canopy in my palace bedroom.
I slowly assessed the situation, but my usual quick thinking had become muddled by the lingering exhaustion clouding my senses. Perhaps that explained the disquiet pooling my stomach, and why my surroundings all seemed slightly off.
I appeared to be in the portrait gallery where I’d apparently collapsed after sleep had snuck up on me.
Despite having thought I’d briefly glimpsed him just before waking, there was no sign of Evander, whether the jovial bargainer from this world, or the quiet, mysterious man from my dreams. Once more he appeared to have vanished… if he’d even been here at all.
Voices once more clamored around me, this time in excitement rather than worry. “Princess, you’re awake! We’re so relieved.” The news traveled from person to person down the corridor, but my attention was on Captain Tomas. “Are you alright, Princess Mirelle?” he asked.
At the concern wrenching his voice, the reality of my awkward position fully settled over me, and suddenly his protective arms burned. I scrambled to a sitting position and a wave of dizziness crashed over me, causing the world to spin. Garrett’s hold tightened around me.
“Steady, Your Highness. There’s no need to rush. You’ve had quite a fall. Just rest.”
I gingerly touched the tender bump throbbing against the back of my head. “I’m not the princess,” I snapped impatiently.
As always, my exclamation caused puzzlement to furrow his brow. “I know you’re always confused when you awaken from one of your cursed sleeps. Thankfully you were only asleep for a few hours this time rather than several days or even months, so the effects should hopefully wear off soon.”
I suppressed a frustrated sigh. There was no use arguing, leaving me at his mercy.
I loathed my helplessness. I begrudgingly allowed him to keep a steady arm around me as the last wisps of drowsiness slipped away, until finally the fogginess shrouding my mind abated enough for me to think more clearly.
My eyes settled on the panel I’d collapsed in front of…
and my breath caught. No longer was it empty, but a painting seemed to have appeared in the hours unconsciousness had entrapped me.
And not just any portrait. A chill slid down my spine as I looked at myself—adorned in silk and satin regalia, my auburn hair woven with pearls that matched those that draped my neck.
A tiara perched atop my head, the very picture of a princess.
Shock seized hold of my voice. I could only stare, scrambling for words but unable to find them. After a stunned moment, I managed to order my surprise into an orderly sentence. “Is that…me?”
Captain Tomas glanced towards the painting. “Of course, Your Highness. It’s an honor to proudly display the portrait of our princess.”
But it couldn’t be. Not only was I not royal, but I was certain I’d never sat for a portrait…unless this was yet another patch in my recollection, as if fragments had been lost in my transition between sleep and awake.
“It wasn’t there last night.” Though I had more pressing questions about this anomaly, in my confusion it was all I could manage.
Tomas exchanged a bewildered glance with his comrades. “It’s always hung there, Princess.” He didn’t appear to be lying, which only deepened my confusion.
What was going on? More importantly, what other changes had taken place in the hours I’d been imprisoned in slumber?
I yearned to begin searching for answers immediately, but now that the guards had discovered I’d escaped from my room and recaptured me, I had no idea how I would get away… becoming entrapped once more.
A headache pulsed at my temples, but I resisted the urge to betray any hint of pain and alert my retinue how this supposed curse had affected me—the more fragile I appeared, the more difficult it’d be to get away from their overprotective scrutiny.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t prevent my legs from trembling when Tomas helped me to my feet. He hovered over me, monitoring me as if I was one breath away from a faint. I gritted my teeth. I hated feeling so feeble.
However weak the curse made my body, at least I still had my observation, honed from years of thieving.
I kept my eyes peeled for an opportunity to slip away as the guards escorted me through the palace…
as well as for any glimpse of Evander, as loathe as I was to admit it. But there was no sign of him.
After a few passages, the captain cleared his throat. “How did you get past the guards outside your room?” He seemed hesitant to question me—whether because he was still deluded into thinking I was a royal, or because he thought me in no state for an interrogation.
The last admission I wanted to give was to reveal I’d discovered the secret passage connecting my room to the rest of the palace.
I was certain they’d block it off, and then I’d never be able to escape that ornate prison.
I silently cursed that I’d been caught before I could conduct a proper investigation of the castle.
I would surely be under constant vigilance from this time forth. However would I look around now?
“I don’t remember.” A weak excuse, but to my relief he accepted it.
His expression became grave. “To think a few hours sleep stole even such a recent memory; that curse is quite dastardly.” He shook his head.
I seized the opening he gave me. “How did the curse befall me?”
“Their Majesties have never spoken of it to us, and I would never presume to overstep my bounds and ask.” By the finality in his voice, the subject was firmly closed. A mere inquiry would have been too easy to solve that particular mystery, but it left me at yet another dead end.
My skin suddenly prickled in warning, indication that I was being watched.
I recognized the force of this particular look.
I spun around, searching the corridors, before spotting Evander leaning casually between two tapestries just up ahead, his silhouette sharp against the muted colors of the shadowy corridor.
There was an ease to him, as if he belonged outside the rules everyone else followed.
But that didn’t explain the strange pull I suddenly felt upon seeing him again—like I’d stepped into a story halfway through, while he already knew the ending.
My heart gave a treacherous leap—he looked far more handsome than I remembered. He caught my eye and winked cheekily, the suave gesture confirmation that he wasn’t the version of this man I’d met inside the dream…at least I thought so; my memories between sleep and waking still felt rather hazy.
“You seem to find yourself in yet another predicament,” he said cheerfully when my entourage closed the distance between us. “You appear to continuously switch between your role of thief and damsel in distress.”
Though the details were slipping away the longer I was awake, if what I’d seen in my dream had been true, I wasn’t the only one with another identity. I felt a prickle of annoyance that the odious man was likely royal—perhaps even the missing prince. No wonder he was so pompous.
I cast him a searching look, as if the secrets of his identity could be deciphered through perusal alone.
He made no acknowledgement of my scrutiny as he fell into step beside me.
As before, the guards showed no sign of seeing or hearing him.
Unlike the first time when he’d appeared unbothered or as if he hadn’t noticed, this time he frowned.
“They’re unaware of my presence, aren’t they? I suppose there are worst fates than only being seen by a beautiful woman.”
I wanted to ask what had made him finally notice his peculiar invisibility to others, but I was afraid that if I was seen talking to myself I would be sentenced to an even longer confinement in bed; I didn’t think I could bear such a fate, especially when I still had much to investigate.
For how often he drove me mad, he was at least clever enough to gauge the reason for my resulting silence. He glanced towards the guards before returning his smirk to me. “It appears you’re left speechless by my very presence.” He winked.