The Opal Crown (4 page)

“Fine, then. Why don’t
you
leave?”

“That’s impossible and you know it. The Masked
Princess—and soon-to-be member of the Kyrenican royal family—belongs here in the city. You, on the other hand, are free to settle wherever you like.”

“I have a life here.” I force myself to add, “A life I am happy with.”

“As do I—a life you
asked me
to assume. But I can’t live it, not the way I want to, with you still here in the city. One day I shall have to take this mask off. And when I do, don’t you think someone is bound to notice that I look exactly like the local seamstress? What then? Stefan keeps asking me to take it off.” She sighs. “I refuse him only because of you.”

“Does it matter to him at all that you are a Galandrian and he is a Kyrenican?” I ask, thinking of James and the
horrible things he sometimes says about the people of
my homeland.

“Of course not.” She looks at me sympathetically. “How is James?”

I shrug. “Sometimes when I am with him I feel so horrible. It feels as though I am just . . .”—I search for the right words, and remember something Elara herself once said—“as though I am just playing a role.”

“Everyone plays a role,” Elara retorts. “Your job is to figure out which one is yours.”

“But we
lie
, Elara. Every day we lie. To James. To Stefan. Does it not bother you?”

Her face hardens. “Leave the city. Then I can build a future with Stefan free of lies.”

“But you shall always come to him claiming
my
past. That in itself is a lie. Does it not bother you?”

In answer, Elara picks up her dress and leaves.

8

I
do not sidestep James’s hug that evening when I return to the inn. I lean into him, savoring the feel of his arms around me.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve missed
you
.”

“I know,” I say, hugging him tightly. “Me, too.”

After he releases me, he resumes filling the mugs and pushes them across the bar to the fishermen waiting.

“Tonight we celebrate!” says a man, and they all raise their glasses and drink.

James pours another round and hands me a mug. I slide onto an empty stool. Instead of practicing alone in my room tonight, I think I would rather be here, where it is festive.

“What are we celebrating?” I ask.

“Didn’t you hear?” James says. “King Fennrick is dead.”

I put my mug down quickly, fighting the urge to be sick.

“What’s wrong?” James asks.

“You are celebrating a man’s death.”

“King Fennrick wasn’t a man. He was—”

“He had a
family
,” I interrupt, not wanting to hear whatever insult James was about to hurl. “He had people who cared for him, people who would have liked to see him one last—” I break off, aware that my voice is rising and people are looking.

Pressure is building again behind my eyes—tears I will not be able to explain. I push back my stool and head for the stairs. “I’m not feeling that well. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Willie, I’m sorry,” James calls. “Please don’t go.”

Don’t call me Willie!
I want to scream as he follows me up the stairs. When I reach my door, James grabs my hand and pulls me back to him. “Willie, wait. Tell me what’s wrong. I know it’s not just the death of a foreign king. Something’s been bothering you for weeks. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I—” The words are on the tip of my tongue.
I am Wilhamina Andewyn, the daughter of the barbarian king you despised.
“I have just had a long day at the dress shop.” I open my door. “I’m sure I will feel better in the morning.”

“If you say so.” James frowns. “But I wish you would just talk to me. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

After he has gone I lock my door behind me and lie down on my bed. I release the tears I have been holding in and cry. I cry for the father who was not cruel, but who was also not kind. For the man I wanted to know, but who never wanted to know me in return.

Finally, I cry for all the lies I have told.

Chapter 5

Elara

W
ilha has tied my hands.

She can’t simply walk away from her life—tell me to take it instead—then continue living in the city, only a few miles from the castle. Does she expect me to wear the mask forever? Will I have to hide my face from my own children one day, for fear that they may glimpse Wilha on the streets of Korynth?

Doesn’t she realize that the role I play every day is what
allows her to go on with her new, nonroyal life? Yet it’s
obvious she resents me asking her questions about her life—questions whose answers I desperately need—if I am to maintain the charade and keep us both safe.

She barely contained her annoyance when I asked about Andrei. Aren’t I entitled to know at least
a little
about my own brother? While it’s impossible to accept Astrid and Fennrick as my parents, not after the choice they made, Andrei is innocent; my existence has been kept secret from him. I can’t help but have questions about him—questions Wilha seems disinclined to ever answer.

Somehow, I must make her see reason, and I resolve to visit her again soon.

But the opportunity doesn’t present itself. One snowstorm after another pummels the city, and business in Korynth nearly comes to a halt. Finally, the snow gives way to a month of pounding, sleeting rain and frigid winds. Tempers in the castle run short, and I think I might go mad from so many days of being trapped inside.

When Ruby’s birthday party arrives, fires are lit in every room, the floors are scrubbed, the rugs beaten, and every noble family in Korynth is invited to the castle to celebrate, not just Ruby’s birthday, but the passing of winter.

Ruby is delighted by the thoroughbred Stefan purchased for her, and laughs gaily when she finds a klarent hidden in her slice of cake—a Kyrenican tradition, which is a sign of good things to come. While cake is served to the rest of the guests, I hurry to my room for my gift to Ruby.

On the way back, I run into Stefan’s mother, Genevieve, who has just returned from a quick visit to Ezebo’s chambers.

“How is he?” I say.

“A little stronger today.” Genevieve smiles wanly. She’s an elegant-looking woman and a kind queen, but today deep circles line her eyes.

I hug her briefly. “He’ll be better soon.”

“He will. And I’m so sorry, Wilha. With all that’s been going on I feel I have not comforted you well over your father’s death.”

“That’s quite all right,” I say, and for the briefest of moments, feel I might start crying. Not out of grief for Fennrick, but over the kindness Genevieve has always offered me—and the fact that I don’t deserve any of it.

“Is that it?” she asks, gesturing to the silken bundle in my hands. After I nod, she says, “Are you sure you want to give it to her?”

“Yes, absolutely. Ruby eyes it every time she visits my chambers.”

“That is truly generous of you, Wilha. Ruby will be delighted by your gift.”

I smile back at her, but it requires effort. Every time she calls me Wilha, it feels as though someone’s punched a hole in my chest.

Genevieve puts her arm around my waist, and together we enter the great hall. Stefan is surrounded by a circle of Ezebo’s advisors—as he often is these days—and looks annoyed. The rest of the guests watch Ruby unwrap her birthday presents. Genevieve and I join Leandra and Eudora, the dowager queen. Genevieve winks when she takes her place in between me and Eudora, as she knows the two of us rarely get along.

“Wilha,” Leandra whispers as Ruby unwraps a new saddle. “What did you say was the name of your horse in Galandria?”

“Um . . .” What did Wilha say when I asked her? I step away and offer Ruby my present.

“Well?” Leandra says when I return.

“It was . . . Adley,” I say, remembering just in time.

Ruby gives an excited squeal. “Look!” She holds up one of my jeweled masks and presses it to her face. “Now I look like Wilha!”

“In a few years it will fit better,” I say. “Perhaps one day your parents will throw a masquerade ball for you.”

I glance over at Stefan and see he’s glowering back at me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as Ruby continues unwrapping more presents.

“Of all the things in the world, you had to give her a mask? It is not a toy, Wilha.” He glances at Ruby. “I would never speak an ill word about your parents, but I would never sentence our child to such a fate as to wear a mask.”

Stefan has been in a foul mood for days and has not been pleasant to be around. “I just thought—”

“Prince Stefan?” says a page who has just materialized, “Forgive me, but a messenger has just arrived from Galandria and asks to speak to you, as well as the king and queen.”

“No doubt he brings word of Allegria’s continued decline,” Eudora cackles joyfully, making it a point to look at me as she speaks.

“Eudora, please,” Genevieve says, casting a worried glance my way.

I dig my hands into my palms, determined to keep my mouth shut and not ruin Ruby’s day. Eudora—shrew that she is—never misses an opportunity to mention her hatred of Galandrians in my presence.

“We shall come immediately,” Genevieve answers. “Stefan, it is not unusual for a new king to send greetings to foreign rulers. We should . . .” Their voices trail off as they leave the great hall.

After Ruby finishes opening presents, she announces she’d like to play a game of hide-and-seek and asks me to join in.

“Of course,” I say, glad for an excuse to get away from Eudora.

I leave the great hall and climb a staircase. After some twists and turns down the corridors, I hear footsteps behind me. I look back and see Leandra.

“Do you want to hide together?” I’m fond of both of Stefan’s younger sisters. But I haven’t grown as close to Leandra, as her formal manner is slightly off-putting.

“No,” she answers, frowning. “I only wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“Well . . .” Leandra squints
as though she’s thinking very hard. “It is just that you said your horse’s name was Adley.”

“And?” We enter Ezebo’s study, and I look around for a suitable hiding spot.

“But a few days ago you told Mother your horse’s name was
Hadley
. With an H.”

“It
was
Hadley,” I say, realizing that of course she’s right. “You just misunderstood me.”

“No, I do not think I did. You seem to do these types of things quite often.”

I stop and look at her, the game of hide-and-seek forgotten. “What types of things?”

“You constantly forget things. Sometimes you answer a question one way, and then another way the next time. Or you answer the question incorrectly.”

“Incorrectly,” I repeat, feeling my heart spiral downward. I pull the door closed behind us and gesture for Leandra to join me behind a thick wall hanging, as though I don’t want us to be found, which is true enough.

“What do you mean ‘incorrectly,’ Leandra?”

“Well, for example, last month you mentioned to Stefan that you had never walked in a maze garden, but that can’t be right because there is a maze garden on the grounds of the Opal Palace. And the month before that when Ruby’s tutor inquired about your education, she came back and said you were surprisingly foggy on the details of Galandrian history. But everyone knows you have a deep reverence for your ancestors. It’s almost as though . . .” She pauses again, as though she’s searching for just the right words. “It’s almost as though I know more about the Masked Princess than you do.”

Our gazes hold for a moment; a strange look crosses her face and she says, “I almost think—”

Just then the door bursts open and Ruby’s chirpy voice calls out, “Is someone in here?” Skipping footsteps, and then: “Leandra—come out! I can see the side of your dress!”

“We’ll talk later,” I mouth at Leandra, falling back deeper behind the tapestry. I put a finger to my lips and smile playfully, as though I merely want to continue playing the game.

Leandra nods solemnly and slips out from behind the tapestry, saying nothing as Ruby exclaims there are only a handful of people she still needs to find. When I’m certain they’re gone, I reach behind me and press the embedded opal, thankful to be near an entrance to one of the hidden passageways that curve through the castle. The wall slides back and I hurry through the darkness. After I’ve entered my chambers and closed the wall behind me, I blow out several breaths. Clearly Leandra has been watching me much more closely than I ever imagined.

I thought I had been so careful these past months.
“It’s almost as though I know more about the Masked Princess than you do.”
Was she realizing there may be a distinction between Wilhamina Andewyn and the person who stood before her?

A quick lie won’t account for all the mistakes she’s caught me in. So what will? Should I plead illness?
“My memory is beginning to fail me. Perhaps I should see a physician?”
I imagine the worried, shadowed look on Stefan’s face if I told such a lie. My stomach lurches violently, and I make it to the fireplace just in time to deposit the contents of my stomach.