Lord Murcendor stares at me from his marble throne. “It was better than the alternative.”
“Which was?”
“Seclusion,” Lord Murcendor says and rises from his throne. He stands in the center of the room, facing Lord Quinlan, who glowers back at him, seemingly unhappy to have someone steal his thunder.
“We could not have you wandering around the castle. And so we considered, when you were old enough, transferring you to a remote location and forging a mask to conceal your face,” Lord Murcendor begins. “Yet it was thought by the king that such a mask would create a mystique. And the king and queen wanted the chance to know their younger daughter. So a second decision was made: Wilha would wear a mask. And if the queen was able to bear another child, not only would Wilha be removed from the line of succession, she would also marry a foreign suitor and be sent away. And in turn, you were to be brought to the Opal Palace. Though the king could never tell you of your true parentage, he would arrange for you to be given a life here in Allegria. As no one would have ever seen the princess’s face, it was thought you could safely reside in Allegria after Wilhamina left the kingdom.”
I glance over at Princess Wilhamina. Her face has drained of color. Is this new information to her, too?
“The King was eager to reclaim you,” Lord Murcendor continues, “and so Gunther was tasked with making sure you were safely brought to the Opal Palace and—”
“You call a blow to the back of the head being safe?” I snap.
“The attack in Eleanor Square forced his hand,” Lord Murcendor replies impatiently. “Admittedly, he became overzealous.” He turns to Lord Quinlan and Lord Royce. “And he has been dealt with.”
The two Guardians nod at him, but my stomach clenches. What does that mean, Gunther’s been “dealt with”? And how exactly do they plan to “deal” with me?
“Why tell me this now?” I ask.
“The attack on the royal family has changed everything. And now we have a proposition for you. Your sister is to leave very shortly for Kyrenica.” Lord Murcendor pauses, and says, “We need you to serve as the princess’s decoy on the journey to Kyrenica.”
“Her decoy?” I choke out, stunned.
Lord Murcendor nods. “Sir Reinhold, the Kyrenican ambassador, has had several meetings with Princess Wilhamina. He has returned to Korynth, Kyrenica’s capital, and will no doubt want to welcome the princess upon her arrival. He would recognize an imposter immediately, even if she wore Wilha’s mask. But a twin sister whose hair, build, and voice is virtually identical is a different matter.”
I stare at him while he speaks, but I don’t really hear him. All I hear is that they believe Wilhamina, the twin that’s been given everything, may be in danger, and they will do everything in their power to protect her.
The rage that’s been bubbling in my heart now floods my veins. Where were these Guardians, so concerned with Wilha’s well-being, all those years when Mistress abused me? Where were they all those nights I had to fend off drunken men in the Draughts?
And if King Fennrick is so eager to “reclaim me”—like I am nothing more than a piece of property he can annex or cut loose at will—then where is he now? If I have been missed for sixteen years, shouldn’t I have been welcomed back with open arms? Instead, I’ve been thrown into a cell and denied food and water. Were they hoping to starve me into submission?
I look at Princess Wilhamina huddling on her marble throne, and a thought occurs to me. When the door opened and she walked into the room, I saw no guards standing in the hall behind her.
“What do you say?” Lord Murcendor asks when he has finished speaking. “Will you protect your sister?”
She is not my sister, I almost blurt out. I won’t risk my life for her, this paler, pampered version of me. But if I refuse, what will become of me? The Guardians have already proven my life means nothing to them.
No, I will not entrust my fate to them. I have one chance, and I must use it well.
Quickly, I bottle my rage, and stopper it with a look of tired resignation. With as much grace as I can muster, I rise to my feet and step forward toward Princess Wilhamina. I lift my skirt, as though I’m about to sink into a curtsy—and then I make a mad dash for the door.
By the time Lord Murcendor yells for the guards, I’m already through the door. The hall beyond isn’t narrow and deserted as I had hoped, but wide and circular, with white stone statues lining the back walls. Several guards lounge nearby, their expressions startled as I streak past them.
“Get her!” comes Wolfram’s voice.
My movements are jerky, and my breathing comes in ragged gasps. After so many days in a cell my muscles are already cramping. But adrenaline fills my veins and I push forward, fleeing the hall. The sound of heavy footsteps and clanking metal follows behind me. If I doubted the Guardians’ words, I know now they were telling the truth. The white columned hallways, the crystal chandeliers, the gilded walls and the arched windows—this can only be the Opal Palace.
I round a corner and rush down a narrower corridor. When I turn another corner, I enter a large hall and realize I’m running straight for a golden throne.
I pull up short when several guards, who had been standing in front of a tall statue, unsheathe their swords and start running after me. Suddenly, I’m pushed from behind, and for a moment, I’m flying forward. I hit the stone floor with a thud and a guard lands on top of me. “I’ve got her!” Wolfram shouts. “Run like that again, and I’ll gut you like a pig,” he says to me.
My lip has split on the hard floor, and I taste blood in my mouth as the guards yank me to my feet. When I look up, I see I’m standing in front of a statue of Eleanor the Great. She holds two large, colorful opals in her hands.
The circle of guards around me parts for Lord Murcendor; his dark eyes are glowering. “Take her back to her cell,” he commands. “And be careful with this one. She is not right in the head and has an unhealthy obsession with Princess Wilhamina. Pay no attention to whatever lies she may tell you.”
CHAPTER 19
WILHA
Lord Murcendor returns to the Guardians’ Chambers and dismisses me. “I would like for you to wait in your room. Lord Quinlan, Lord Royce, and I need to speak privately.” He motions to my mask. “We will also need you to put that back on.”
I obey and tie the mask back on my face. I leave the room, but as soon as the door closes behind me, I sink to the ground. Lord Murcendor told me only of Elara’s existence. He said nothing of my father’s plan to bring her to Allegria once I had left the kingdom. I bring a shaking hand to my mask.
All this time, has my father been counting the years until he could marry me off and be reunited with my sister? Did he ever wonder if he had made a mistake, if he should have sent me away and kept her instead? Given how quickly he has intended to hand me over to the Kyrenicans, I assume he must.
I think back to Rinna, the person I loved most when I was a child. Once she saw my face, did my father decide it was better if she—like the midwife before her—was sent abroad, so she couldn’t one day identify Elara?
On the other side of the door I hear the low rumble of the Guardians’ voices. No doubt they expect me to obey Lord Murcendor’s orders and return to my room. All these years, the Guardians and my father have always required my obedience, and I have always given it.
Yet what if this time I didn’t?
I rise and approach a maid passing through the hall. “Do you know where I can find Patric, the palace guard? I need to speak to him about our training sessions,” I add hastily in case she says something to the Guardians.