Chapter 7, part 5

“I have been brought up to be something near the opposite. I have been told to be silent, dignified and feminine, not to be loud and running around. I never felt the desire to make myself the centre of attention like that.”

Catherine tried to look sympathetic. If she could get this one princess to loose a small bit of her confidence she might still be up against a lot of beauty and perfect, long hair, but she would have a slightly better chance. And a sudden change in behaviour might confuse the prince.

“I thank you for the advice, my dear, but I think I will stick to most of what I know. I will try to make myself a little more noticed, though.

Catherine smiled her most friendly smile and nodded. On the inside she wanted to kick herself. She had wanted to make an older, more experienced woman make a mistake by giving her false information. That in itself had obviously been stupidly dangerous, considering what she was dealing with. Now she had even managed to give the beautiful princess advice that might make it easier for her to get close to the prince. The only real advantage she had had over the princess had been the fact that she was quiet and did not push herself to the foreground to speak to the prince. It was too easy to see this now that she had ruined it.

“I have to admit I am afraid not to be able to catch his attention,” the princess was saying. “I offended a suitor of mine by accepting the invitation, and if gossip about the true nature of our visits should get out, I risk losing everything. My older brother will inherit the throne, and I was hoping to rise above him in status by marriage.”

Catherine smiled and nodded politely. She sipped some tea.

“Well, I make it sound so dramatic. Really there is little reason to believe that something like this would be a true problem. Magic is not forbidden in our country, and who can blame me for trying my luck?”

Catherine nodded again and sipped more tea. She tried to get her thoughts together, but all she could think about was the shiny, soft hair of the woman in front of her and the dusty streets of her life so far. A spark of hope lit up in her mind. Maybe she had given the prince a tougher choice by giving the princess an advantage. If all the women seemed desirable, he might not know which one to chose.

Maybe, if she made good friends with the ones that he was most likely to choose, she could tell them the truth when he married them. If the future crown princess was her friend she would not throw her out on the streets.

“Catherine, are you feeling well?”

She looked up at the princess and smiled, then nodded. She pointed to her head.

“Were you lost in your thoughts?”

She nodded.

“Were they thoughts of consequence?”

She shook her head and smiled again. The princess was about to say something when the bells of a small clock behind Catherine interrupted them. She turned around and looked at the contraption, sensing the princess' gaze turning in the same direction.

“I suppose we should get ready for lunch now?”

Catherine, who did not trust her own abilities to read a clock, or her remembering when lunch started, just smiled. Princess Iris reached across the table and picked up a small bell. She shook it. There was a long moment's awkward silence before Ingrid came in.

“Please close the door behind you for a moment,” princess Iris said quietly. Ingrid lifted an eyebrow and obeyed, sending Catherine a look.

“Catherine. I know that you are lying. I know that no one has taken vows of silence for so long that it is quite unlikely that anyone would seriously consider using one now. I know that the prince is not attracted to strong women and I know that you are most likely not a noble of any kind. The only thing I have yet to find out is why you are here and who you really are.”

Ingrid remained at the door. Catherine looked back at her, but found no help in the other woman's frozen face. She shifted uncomfortably, but did not speak. The princess looked at her intently. Catherine felt her pulse behind her ears. The tea she had sipped seemed halfway up her throat again. It sounded like her breaths were loud enough that people should be able to hear them through the closed doors. The only thing in her field of vision were the princess' dark eyes, digging into hers.

“Fine,” she said, when it was absolutely clear that none of them were going to speak. “I have a feeling that you are not dangerous as such, and I will give you the benefit of doubt. But I will ask you to keep your distance. I have no need for people like you close to me. Please leave now.”

Ingrid still did not move. Catherine was stuck in her uncomfortable position in the floor and was unable to get up. Just as she considered actually speaking to ask for help, princess Iris seemed to take some pity on her.

“Your lady is embarrassed, maid. Are you not going to help her?”

Ingrid finally left her place and came to Catherine's rescue.

“Sorry, my lady,” she whispered, as her mouth came close enough to Catherine's ears for her to hear it. She helped her get on her feet and then led the way out of the rooms. Catherine felt her face grow more and more warm with shame. She had never felt so small, so selfish and so dirty in her life.

As soon as the door opened, the princess spoke again.

“It was a pleasure, Lady Catherine. I hope we will meet at dinner!”

This time Catherine did not manage to smile or nod. She stared at Ingrid's back all that way back to her own rooms, where she was delighted to see that they were alone.

“How'd she find that out? How could she? Who is that woman?”

“You will have to go to his majesty with this,” Ingrid was saying. Catherine stopped talking and slumped down on a chair at the wall.

“I will?”

“I can not do it again, not so soon. I just can not. It is your opinion he wants and you are the one who somehow got yourself revealed.”

“I-” Catherine did not know what to say. There was nothing for her to say. She got back up and started walking across the large, gleaming floors.



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Chapter 7, part 4

The princess' rooms were luxurious, but seemed slightly smaller than Catherine's. Of course, that would depend how much space was behind the doors she had yet to go through. They were kept dim by long, gauze-like curtains and re-lit by candles and lamps. It seemed the princess had had some furniture of her own brought along, at least Catherine had not expected to see the low table with cushions in the middle of the room instead of something like the sofas of her own rooms.

Princess Iris had changed into something impossibly long and flowing that she would not be able to walk many steps in. She was lounging on a pillow in a way that would have seemed arrogant if she had not worn such an honest, inviting smile on her lips. Despite her envy of the other woman's beauty, Catherine could not help herself. She felt attracted to her friendly eyes and found herself wanting desperately to impress her.

She looked at the cushions tentatively, not sure of how to sit down in her large dress. Before she could embarrass herself, Ingrid was at her side, pushing the fabric aside enough that Catherine could sit down. It was even more uncomfortable than standing up had been. Stiff things were poking at her everywhere, it was difficult to breathe and she was certain she looked ridiculous.

“Oh no, I am so sorry, Catherine,” Princess Iris said. “I should have told someone that we would be following my customs and not yours. Do forgive me.” Catherine had to bite her tongue before forcing a friendly smile onto her face and shaking her head dismissively. The princess smiled back.

“I am so happy you could join me. You see, I have been avoiding the company of most of the others here. Everyone seems to have so many hidden agendas and I find it disturbing.”

She looked at Catherine with bright eyes for a moment, then raised her eyebrows.

“I am sorry, I forget that you are not allowed to speak. It is a most honourable thing you are doing, my dear. Sacrificing for the sake of your parent. Do you find it difficult to keep quiet, may I ask?”

Catherine thought about her answer for a moment, then decided that the truth was, conveniently, more convincing than anything else. She nodded.

A maid came and served them tea in small glasses when she left, she looked at Ingrid pointedly and whispered something. Ingrid followed her out. Catherine did not move to touch it, remembering the many warnings she had had. Both the ones regarding poison - though she doubted that the princess was a potential threat - and the ones regarding etiquette.

“Do you wish to marry him?”

Catherine looked up at the princess. Her face was calm and friendly, the only emotion Catherine could detect was curiosity. She took a deep breath and went over her own plan in her mind. Either way she needed the confidence of as many of the women as possible. She had a feeling she was playing with forces much larger than herself.

She shook her head and smiled slightly.

“I was beginning to think so,” she said, shaking her head. She raised her glass and took a small sip of her tea.

“I would like to marry him. As would all the others, of course. He is quite a catch, if you do not mind … him. Is it that you are not interested in money?”

Catherine shrugged.

“The power scares you?”

She nodded.

“Maybe you do not wish to remain here, so far away from your own?”

She shrugged. The princess sipped her tea again, carefully placing the small glass back on the table. This time Catherine followed suit.

“I believe I could get used to the country. The customs might cause me some trouble, but what am I born for if not acquiring knowledge of foreign things? I must confess I find the language easier than I had feared.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their tea and smiling politely and warmly respectively. Catherine was beginning to feel a little more sure of herself. The role she was supposed to play really did fit very well with her own goal as well of those of the prince. All she needed to do was to make sure the prince did not realise what she was doing. But even in his eyes she was a little, innocent peasant. She did not think he would expect her to act on her own behalf.

“The prince is rather one of a kind. Have you known him long?”

Catherine nodded once, pushing her fingers together to signify something small.

“Spoken to him on several occasions, then?”

She nodded.

“Do you think I stand a chance? What do you think he prefers in a woman?”

Catherine did not need to think about it for long. The message about Princess Anna had been all to clear. She raised her arms and pretended to flex her muscles.

“Strength?” The princess' voice rose a few tones. “You mean confidence,” she suggested.

Catherine nodded, the lifted her finger and pointed to her arms.

“Also physical strength?”

She nodded again.

“I suppose for a soldier it makes sense to value such things. I have not been taught much that even resembles strength. Is there anything else?”

Catherine gestured to her mouth, smiling and rolling her eyes a little.

“Women who speak? Speak their minds? That is like confidence.”

Catherine made a wide gesture with her arms.

“Women who … have broad perspectives?”

She shook her head and gestured to her mouth again, then touched her ears.

“Being loud?”

She nodded.

“Catherine, you are telling me stories, are you not?”

Something froze in her at the question. She forced herself to keep the easy smile on her face and would have given anything to know for certain that her eyes did not give away her fear. She shook her head, trying not to breathe too loudly. She no longer had any idea if she looked natural.

“I must say I was not expecting something so difficult,” the princess said. Catherine looked at her closely, trying to determine whether or not she was the subject of conversation.



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Chapter 7, part 3

The morning did prove to be interesting. The prince joined them without making any prior announcements, and began engaging them in conversation at random. He even said a few words to Catherine, wishing her good luck, wishing her mother good luck and making a point of telling her a small anecdote about the man who was supposed to be her father.

It worked like he had said he hoped it would. When he left her, she was the centre of discreet attention. Princess Iris and Princess Anna, yet again complementing each other, this time even in contrasting dresses, came to stand at her side. Princess Iris whispered an invitation for tea in her ear. Catherine smiled and nodded in confirmation.

Princess Anna, the strong-looking woman, who the prince had described as manly despite her pretty face, leaned in.

“I did not realise you knew him so well, my lady. Will you be seeing more of his majesty while you are here?”

Catherine shrugged and shook her head. The prince glanced at her but did not make any sign that he had noticed the exchange.

“You are not here … by invitation?”

Catherine shrugged again, waving her hand back and forth to signify disinterest. It seemed to work; Princess Anna took a small step back and looked at her more closely. The prince came strolling towards them, a worrying grin on his face.

“Naturally she is here by invitation. You are all here as my honoured guests. In fact, I believe it is on time that I am honest with you all.”

He made a sign towards the doors, and two servants closed them, stepping out of the room as they did.

“I realise that I am breaking every social protocol, my dear friends, but I hope you will forgive me. You are all here for the same reason.”

The room grew quiet. Catherine looked around at the women, and did not see much surprise or shame. Only three women did look as if they had not know that fact, though she suspected that their open-mouthed looks of horror were more for show than out of true disbelief.

They all stood up, two of them forming words of protest, the last one keeping quiet. After a brief confusion, they all went towards the door in silence. The prince bowed at them, a mocking grin on his face, which did not seem to ease their outrage. The doors closed behind them.

“I assume that we can speak freely now,” he said, looking around at the neutral faces.

“I did cast a spell, and it did choose each one of you as a good match for me. Catherine held his eyes for a second, noticing a strange uncertainty in them before he looked away. “The only problem is the fact that there are many of you here. I wish to choose the one among you who is most likely to be happy at my side, and allow the rest of you to go home and continue as if nothing ever happened. I apologise for my lack of complete honesty with you in the beginning, but I sincerely hope that you will not suffer any consequences from your choice to join me here under the guise of a friendly visit to our magnificent city.”

None of the eight other women left in the room looked thrilled. Princess Anna mumbled something under her breath in a language that was probably not being used for the sake of the prince.

“I suggest that you continues as before and allow me a chance to get to know you better,” the prince continued. “Of course I will not oblige if either of you should want to leave now.”

The women continued to sit still. Catherine gathered that none of them were interested in leaving, and that none of them wanted to be the first one to say so. There was no knowing how much gossip might still spread. The prince smiled benevolently at them all, one by one, then left the room. The women got up and left in turn, still not speaking.

“Catherine!” She looked up and saw Princess Iris looking at her. She smiled.

“Will you still join me for tea? I hope this is not all too shocking for you?”

Catherine nodded, waved and shook her head. She smiled at the princess.

“Then I will see you in an hour, my friend,” she said, and left the room behind the others. Something jingled every time she moved her left foot, and Catherine felt jealous of her natural, easy beauty. She kept the smile on her face and followed Ingrid to her rooms.

“This is very good, my lady,” Ingrid said. Her face was prettier when she was happy, Catherine noticed. It made her eyes seem less cold.

“Princess Iris is actually quite withdrawn. Princess Anna is the only other person who has been invited to see her in private. His majesty will be happy to hear of your progress.”

Catherine smiled and nodded. She was afraid to speak now, in case she forgot herself in the presence of the princess. Something inside her felt uneasy since last night, and she was afraid it might cause her to loose her concentration, whatever it was.

Deep in thought, she was surprised to find someone tugging at her dress. She spun around and noticed the maid, who was looking at her in confusion. She remembered then; she would have to change her clothes. It seemed like a ridiculous amount of work for such a small benefit. She doubted anyone would notice her clothes if they would only stop constantly changing it.

“Do you have anything slightly more … relaxed?” she asked the maid.

“My lady, I was informed you would be having tea with the princess,” she answered, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean something less heavy,” she explained. The woman looked her up and down a few times.

“I am sorry, my lady, but I've been told to dress you well, but old fashioned. This style was very popular about a decade ago. I could not find you anything else without ruining the look.” Her voice was stern, as if Catherine had insulted her family. She gave up, and thought about the slim, pretty dresses the princess in question always wore. She looked so much more graceful, much more like any sort of royalty than she did.

It cost her a lot of confidence to walk down the hallways, stairs and streets that led her to the building where she would find the princess. Her hair had been made up into a giant shape that resembled her father's old clock more than anything. It was miles away from the long, silky strands that flew freely from the princess' shoulders.



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Chapter 7, part 2

“What happened to the children? Did you really take them with you?”

“I had given her my word, and it was her last will. I did not have a choice if I wanted to continue to see myself as a man of honour.”

Catherine smiled and wiped her eyes again, happy that they stayed dry that time.

“Where are they now?”

The prince shrugged again.

“In my service.”

Catherine nodded. His voice had changed, and she suspected that he would not tolerate many more questions or tears on her behalf. She did not understand why he had allowed her to speak so freely in the first place. He had seemed to want to kill her when he entered the room. Now he was thoughtfully fingering her blanket.

“We need a plan, my dear. You said the women were on edge?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you think they are feeling more bored or jealous?”

Catherine thought about it. There had been plenty of lively conversations. She was sure some of them felt bored, but the fact that they were all still present spoke of iron wills. She could not imagine that any of them were happy with the danger of their situations or the fact that they had a very high risk of being sent home in disgrace.

“It's more likely they're jealous, isn't it, sir?”

“I'd think so. Do you think they'll be more likely to feel distressed if I start spending a little time with some of them? Keep in mind I want them to show their true colours.”

“I don't know, sir. They all seemed so sure of themselves. Do something they don't expect, I think.”

“Officially they are all just here for social reasons. I never said aloud that the purpose is for a magic spell to help me pick a bride. But I made sure to tell each of them in private that she had been picked out and would have to wait. Now, I am very certain that they are all aware of my slight dishonesty at this time, but the question is how many of them are willing to admit to anything. The ones who left obviously were not.”

“Tell them all the truth, sir.” Catherine spoke before she could think, and immediately regretted it, but the prince just looked at her.

“That might be the best idea,” he said, nodding his head. “It would certainly force them to show their hands and make it a little more likely that they seek out advice from someone who knows me.”

He stood up, wiping at the soiled blankets for a moment, then thinking better of it.

“I will speak to Ingrid and see how she feels. If you are not told of any changes, be ready for an interesting morning. Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

“I will call for someone to clean up this mess. You could go and have a bath in the meantime,” he said as he was leaving. He limped slightly and was pressing a hand against his ribs.

She did as he suggested, enjoying the warm water and finally feeling more like herself. She shuddered when she realised that the smell of the prince's clothes clung to the side of her face and hair as well as the clothes she had been wearing. She scrubbed herself as hard as she dared when remembering that she would have to look presentable in the morning.

The prince was confusing her. She did not like his company, and she could not relax when he was anywhere near her, but his story suggested that he was a far better person than he seemed. She assumed that the use of illegal mean to make an end to such suffering was not as bad as it had sounded on her father's lips.

On the other hand there was no disputing that he was an angry, dangerous man. And the way he treated the women he had brought with him did not put him in a favourable light. She was not sure if she understood their choice. They were, at worst, risking their futures at the chance of spending their lives at the prince's side. Power and wealth seemed to be very addictive.

Her few short days at the castle had taught her to worry and feel bad about herself. She could see the appeal of having the option to take a warm bath in the middle of the night while somebody took care of her dirty things. And she could certainly see how the surroundings might cause someone to make bad choices. She would never have thought that she would sit in a marble tub with golden ornaments.

The thought reminded her that she would still need to find a life for herself when the prince was done with her. He had promised her an incredibly large sum of money - on a weekly basis, even - but she did not want to count on that. She did not trust that she would be able to.

She did not like the thought of leaving behind so much luxury just to be back on the street. These rooms would be empty when she left, most likely for years, as only the people invited by the prince himself even were allowed into the area. That was peculiar either way. The king must really be wary to make any official statements regarding the prince if he did not even demand to know what he was doing on this enormous property. She could not see how the king wanted to prove or disprove anything when he could not follow the prince's daily life.

As far as she remembered from school, it was simply tradition to leave society's most privileged to do as they pleased. It had not been worded like that, but between her own understanding and her father's explanation that was what she had understood.

She drew a towel around herself and looked in one of the large mirrors on the wall. The bruise on her face had faded so much that it could have been the way the light fell on her. Her hair was shiny and prettier then she remembered it having ever been. She was still ugly, but when her face had been covered in make-up earlier, she had almost looked passable. They had put red colour on the middle of her lips, so they appeared less wide, put emphasis on her eyes so it was easier to overlook her long nose. She had felt uncomfortable, as if she was wearing a mask, but it had still been nice to have someone cover up her faults.

The prince wanted his life back to normal as fast as possible. But when his was normal again, hers would be too. She did not want her normal life back so soon. Maybe when she had grown tired of the stress of having to look and speak right she would be ready for the stress of not knowing when she would eat again.

She would do her best to drag out the decision.



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Chapter 7, part 1

“I don't understand, sir. What do those people have to do with war?”

“You've been living your life in a city that has not seen a battle for almost three hundred years. We have expanded this kingdom far beyond its original borders. It is the people at the borders who pay the price for our power and wealth.

“When I was your age I discovered life outside the castle, and with it, opportunities to put some of my training to the test. I got into terrific fights with gangs of orphans the first few times I went out. Disguised, naturally, and in all secrecy so no one could stop me.” At the last sentence, a bit of the gravity left his voice and Catherine smiled at the thought of the little boy sneaking out. It was nice to remember that he had been young.

“My training continued and I decided to pursue a further career in the military. That is encouraged either way. Of course, nobody knew how often I snook out at night and had some fun on my own.” His voice had gotten even lighter and Catherine could hear a smile. “I imagined that life would continue that way. I did not see anything dishonourable in eventually killing other men who felt as I did. I thought all soldiers were men who simply enjoyed fighting for what ever reason they found important. I imagined battle to be the ultimate test to my abilities, and nothing more.

“When I went to the border to fight in the area around a state we had recently invaded, I was still full of these dreams. Then we reached the front. It was a sad place, trodden into muddy fields by the many boots, kept up by old men and women who were unable to stand the cold. I heard my brothers scream as their limbs were amputated. That was when I realised that it is not always a fight to the death.

“As we rode onwards into the lands we had invaded, it was the sight of sick, hungry children running barefoot in the snow that finally cured me of my hunger for honour. Young women sold their bodies to provide for their babies and siblings. Older women starved.

“We stayed in the area for many months, fighting off and killing frightened young men who had no other choice than to place themselves in front of their lands. By then I had long since abandoned my honour and went along with the madness. As peace slowly came, as we slowly killed everyone who fought us, I began to feel better about the entire thing. After all, the people who were left were now a part of our glorious kingdom and would surely live to thank us.

“I stayed with a few of my men in the house of a small family. The mother was only a few years older than me, and took care of her three children alone. Her husband had been killed before the last one had been born. She did not like us, but our money kept her from being openly hostile. We left, moving onwards to secure a few smaller areas. When we came back a year later, I wanted to see if they were still healthy. The little children had somehow left an impression. Or maybe their mother's silent dignity had touched me. I cannot tell you.

“The house had been torn to pieces. The children were living in filth, begging for gerbage from their former neighbours. The mother had been put into prison by our army for stealing grains that were meant to be taken back to this very city as taxes.”

The prince grew quiet. Catherine could not take her eyes off his dirty face. He looked haunted by the memory, and she could understand why he would feel that way. The story he had just told her was horrible, something that she would never forget. She suddenly remembered many of her father's stories in a new light. Large parts of his entire trade depended on such cruelty. She started when the prince spoke again.

“They took her to the beach one early fall morning. It was a beautiful day. The sun was so white, the sky was bright. A little wind, just enough for the seagulls to ride on, created perfect waves. She recognised me. I could tell that she had been crying so much that she could not do it anymore. She begged me to help her children, swore that she would spend her entire afterlife taking care of me if I would only do something for them. I promised her to take them with me.

“She looked so peaceful after that. Her body was destroyed by hunger and torture, but her face lit up, and she started singing an autumn hymn. She did not stop before they had let her into the icy water and pushed her head under the waves.”

Catherine had been holding her breath. Theft was often punished by death, but she had never heard of a crime so small and so understandable being punished so harshly. When the prince finished his story she found herself crying like a baby. No matter how embarrassed she was to let him see her tears, she could not help herself.

Sobs shook her entire body. She could sense him tensing up next to her, but he did not shout. After a few moments she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Catherine, I apologise. I do not know why I told you that. It is unforgivable of me to have upset you so.”

She shook her head, but she could not see if he saw it. A handkerchief was pushed into her open hand, and she gratefully wiped her face with it.

“Don't be sorry,” she said, tears still rolling down her cheeks. “I just didn't expect it to be so horrible. I never thought about any of this.”

The prince shrugged and looked away. It seemed to be more out of respect than anger, which warmed her heart towards him yet a little more.

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Chapter 6, part 5

The deep, sweet darkness of sleep enveloped her. She was still feeling the softness of her pillows against her face, but she was no longer conscious of the world around her. Images and sounds of another place were taking shape behind her closed eyelids and she breathed slowly.

Sharp lights burned her eyes, and loud sounds blew away the other world inside her head. Her body reacted to the adrenaline, and she was flung halfway across the giant bed by her own panicked reaction before her eyes had a chance to focus. She was aware of a great danger, but she was unable to understand what, how or where. Something came rushing towards her, the same thing that seemed to be causing the noise and somehow the lights.

Prince Alexander grabbed her shoulders, the doors to his study wide open and still moving away from the wall where they had caused the impact that had woken her up. His face was bloody and bruised, his hair was clotted with either mud or blood. Blood was spraying across the silken night gown she was wearing as he crushed her shoulders against his stinky chest. She finally managed to scream, but the prince did not react. He was roaring something she could not hear.

His shirt smelled of vomit and urine, and it was soaking her face. At this realisation she began struggling against his grip. He roared like an animal and shook her violently before holding her tightly again. They somehow ended up awkwardly seated on the side of the bed. The prince sagged against her, his weight crushing her further.

She dared not move again. The prince's breaths were hard and shallow, like she imagined those of a dying person would be. She was horrified at her own cruelty when she felt a touch of happy relief at the thought. The guilt made her hold on to his arms to make sure he did not slip when he went as good as limp, helping him to lie against the headboard and leaning into his smelly, wet clothes. As for the leaning in, his clutched fist in her hair left her no real choice.

There was a long silence. She tried to imagine how much time might have passed but she was too sleepy to have any idea of it. It seemed to be hours since she had been falling asleep in her bed, alone in the dark, but the image of light somehow streaming from him to the lamps as he closed the distance between them was still so close in her mind that she assumed it had been less.

As time continued to pass she felt her eyelids grow heavy despite herself. She was still terrified that he might suddenly move, shake her, or roar again, and her joints still pained from the rush of his entrance. The last thing she wanted was to fall asleep on his chest.

It was a weird feeling being so close to him. The last person she had been close to had been Gabrielle, and there had not been anyone before her. She imagined that she might have been close to her father if it had not been for the unfortunate circumstances of her birth. She was not comfortable with the closeness, but there was still a sort of comfort. She enjoyed the sound of a heartbeat, and if he had not been drenched in fluids she did not want to know the names of, the heat from his chest would have been nice as well.

Considering the aspect of comfort in their strange embrace brought unwanted thoughts to her mind; long since forgotten dreams of a loving mother, the jealousy she had felt at the sight of her half-siblings in their mother's arms. She pushed away the thoughts all together and focused on sitting still enough that she would not disturb her sleeping prince.

“This situation is impossible,” he said slowly. His voice was hoarse. Catherine opened her eyes, only the realising that they had been closed. “We will have to work quickly to find the best solution we can in as short time as possible. You are ruining my life.”

“I don't mean to, sir,” she said. He made a noise that could signify either annoyance or mirth, she could not tell which.

“I am glad to hear you are out of excuses, my dear.”

“Sir, do you know you're bleeding?”

He pushed her away slightly and looked down at the space she left behind, then as far up his own body as he could. He would not be able to see any of the large blood stains. He furrowed his brow and sat up straighter, almost letting completely go of her.

“Where've you been, sir? Is everything in order?”

“Everything is fine. I went out to amuse myself for a bit, that is all.”

“You've been in a fight, sir.”

“I know.”

“But why?”

“I went out to amuse myself, like I said.” His friendly tone encouraged her to ask him again. Something about the situation made her feel less like a burden and more like just another person. He did not remind her of his usual harsh self at all.

“Did you fight to amuse yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“It is not as strange as it sounds, my dear. It is not the first time I do so. You should know that I have only just returned from battle, surely a bar fight can not surprise you that much.”

I didn't know bar fights were fun. And I didn't know war and bar fights are the same,” she said, considering his suggestions.

Nothing could be further from the truth! I must have confused you. War and battle is more than just fighting soldiers. Much more.”

“How? What else is there?”

The prince fell back against the headboard again, running a dirty hand across his face and through his hair. It pushed around the blood and grime already there, drawing a line across his face that followed the scar on his throat.

“There are innocent women and children, lives of people who have no way of defending themselves. There are people who go absolutely mad. I had a very good reason for turning to magic, and I knew how much it could cost me.”



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Chapter 6, part 4

The inn had some of the worst beer in the city, and the food served there was over priced and usually more than inedible. For this very reason, only people who wanted something very specific came there. It was almost as certain as going to a baker's for bread; he would find himself a nice fight.

He ordered a mug of the vile, foamy liquid the sold and sat down at a table where five dodgy looking figures already sat without bothering to ask for permission. A man next to him grumbled as he pushed himself sideways to make space. Prince Alexander grumbled back. A deck of cards were produced by one of his new friends. All a part of the game, he knew.

He assumed that most of the men there thought they came for beer and games of cards. The first time he had gone there, he had thought it was a coincidence that a small disagreement had led to fifteen men punching each other with fists and bits of furniture. When he had come back for more, he had not been disappointed, and he had never been since.

He settled down for the moment, not wanting to draw attention to himself by being the one who started the fight. None of the men spoke more than a few words, but they were all laden with accusations and distrust. Movements became faster, voices grew louder. It was like watching a storm drawing up. In the end he got impatient. He was dealt a card. He snatched it aggressively then stared at the man who had thrown it towards him.

“Hey,” he snarled, putting as much resentment in his voice as possible. “You're packing the cards!”

It was enough. The man made a sound that resembled a “what,” and jumped at him, fists swinging. Alexander had anticipated, or hoped for this, and he let his clenched fist swing straight into the man's nose with a satisfying crunch. Everyone at the table jumped up from the chairs, some shouting accusations at the dealer, others at Alexander. Everyone were pushing, slamming their hands down on the table and getting into each others' faces.

Alexander grinned darkly as he punched the man who had growled at him, ignoring the fact that he was also accusing the dealer of having cheated. The results were immediate. All around the inn, chairs were being thrown to the floor as angry, drunk men came running to have part of their discussions.

He felt someone moving behind him and grabbed his chair by the back. Turning around himself in a small circle, he brought the chair to his chest, then let go as he felt the pull of gravity. It hit his would be assailant square in the face, but Alexander did not have time to watch him fall. Someone broke a bottle against his back, making him thirst for pain and blood.

For the next few moments, all was roars of hatred and anger. He received several hard blows to his face and soft spots, but he made sure to repay every single one of them with an even harder blow. Then he dealt a few more, just in case anyone had been planning anything. He had picked up bits of a chair ans smashed the leg into an elderly, bearded man's face, feeling a few teeth break loose as the doors flew open and armed men came running in.

He grinned. This was what he had been waiting for. Drunk men in a bar were nothing against the challenge of fighting off a heavily armed soldier with his bare hands. A rush of blood filled his head as he dove into their little group. His hands met with jaws and noses, with eyes and throats. He felt invincible, certain of his impending victory as he saw them fall, one by one, unconscious and defeated.

He barely even noticed the hands that were taking hold of him, did not see how several of his brothers were already being thrown out through the open doors. His mind was set on violence and nothing else. Only when he was flying through the cold night air and landing in a pool of sodden mud did he realise that the fight was over and the arrests had begun. He got to his feet and looked around. The few soldiers remaining on their feet were occupied with the last three men inside. He saw his chance and made a run for it, somehow ending up behind a small house next to the man who had been dealing the cards.

The two men looked at each other. The silence seemed endless, only punctuated by the shouts comping from the inn and the sound of running feet. A small part of him was celebrating the fact that he had made it possible for almost everyone to escape the arms of the law. The rest of him was focused on the bleeding, wheezing man in front of him. He noticed several bruises already forming on the man's face.

“You're a right beast,” the man said admiringly, his damaged face splitting into a grin. Prince Alexander grinned back.

“You were not too bad yourself, sir;” he said. A chill went over his back when he realised that his act had slipped. The man was looking thoughtful now, pursing his lips and looking at him more intently. Prince Alexander did not wait for him to ask any questions. He got back up from his crouched down position and started running silently down a small street. He heard the man grunt behind him and looked back over his shoulder to see him waving. He grinned and waved back, still running.

It had been a wonderful way to end an evening, and he would make it back in plenty of time to have someone trustworthy help him with his wounds. Running through the city at night, body aching and face swelling, was a pleasant reminder of his youth. A soon to be king deserved his pleasures, he decided. Reliving a time long since past was not the worst thing he could be doing.

As he let himself onto castle grounds with the help of a key no one else had a copy of, a sharp pain drew the air from his lungs. He crouched down on the carefully cut grass and heaved for breath. When the pain did not ease, he found himself emptying the contents of his stomach onto the pristine field.

“Catherine,” he spat out through clenched teeth. “Catherine!”

It was not a cry for help.

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Chapter 6, part 3

Prince Alexander was a busy man. He despised it when people wasted his time, especially people who did so for no good reason. The girl, Catherine, spent so much time being afraid of him, that he had to ask her everything twice. He wanted to resort to his usual methods, he felt like shaking her, or slapping her, to get her to pull herself together, but remembering her in her wedding dress kept him from trying it out. He supposed the novelty of violence had long since worn off on her.

He had to make a real effort to calm himself down whenever he had been talking to her. The magic from the spell he had so naively cast crawled up and down his spine and stung him like a thousand tiny daggers when it found his anger directed at her. It was, at times, like a living being, surveying his every thought and emotion, clouding his mind with stupidity.

It was still absolutely unclear to him why Catherine had been picked out somehow. She could not compare to his other options in the least, but the spell seemed to want to force him to pick her. He no longer felt a pull towards any of the other women, and he now had to go by the memory of those vague pokes. He knew he was only fooling himself; there had been no detectable difference, and it had taken him the entire day to notice what had happened.

Catherine on the other hand. When he was close to her all he wanted to do was to press her against his chest to make the ache go away. When she was outside his rooms he could hardly think. The pain was overwhelming. But he did not want her, not in any way. She was too young, too small, too ugly, too much of a peasant, too scared of him, too scared of power and wealth to ever be of any use.

He had almost immediately decided to get her to stay close by. It had seemed logical that he would be able to reap the benefits of the spell without having to marry a small, ugly girl. For now he would use her as a way to spy on his other options. When he had made his pick, he would marry, be rid of the spell, and keep Catherine around for whatever purpose she was supposed to serve.

It made little difference to him. As long as he was still officially the crown prince, and he was, he had the liberty to do almost anything. He could not be punished for committing minor crimes, and he could spend large sums on anything he saw as a worthy cause. Keeping a girl in a small set of rooms was about as much trouble as buying a new horse.

Running over these thoughts in his head did wonders to calm him down. He remembered that he was supposed to win the girl's friendship, and grabbed a chess set on his way back to his study. She was still sitting on his chair in front of the fireplace. Her eyes were turned away from him, but he had seen her shoulders stiffen when he opened the door. She was at least trying to conceal her fear from him which, he supposed, was a step in the right direction. He held out the closed, checkered box towards her.

“Do you play,” he asked.

She looked up at him, studying the contents of his hand for a moment, not bothering not to frown at it. He sighed inwardly, but reminded himself to be patient.

“Play what, sir?”

“It's chess, my dear,” he said. “A game supposed to simulate two armies in battle. I thought you might play with me for a while since you are not needed elsewhere.”

Catherine looked at him blankly again, as if the words he had just said had been in a foreign tongue, and he felt his blood rising. She nodded, and he left to find a small table and an additional chair so he could sit next to her.

Explaining her the rules took so long that they did not actually play the game. He was not sure if she was aware of the fact that he was merely showing her how to move the small figurines about. Her concentrated frown made him suspect that she thought she was supposed to do something.

By the time he allowed her to leave, she looked as tired as he felt, which annoyed him. He had done almost all the talking, and he had done his best to be pleasant company. He did not think it was fair of her to look that tired when it was her fault that they did nothing but speak about rules.

When he was certain she had left, he went to his bedroom and pulled out a worn bag from a trunk under his bed. He still kept all of his most treasured belongings packed so he might take them with him at short notice. He was still not used to being back at a castle. His every instinct told him to be ready, to be careful.

He pulled out garments from the bag and undressed. Holding up each piece before putting it on, he changed into something that made him look like the people that had been surrounding Catherine just a few days before. He thought about her father and her husband, and his stomach churned. If - when he was king he would make sure to make it a lot more difficult to marry off children. He thought that raising the punishment from a few years in prison to death might have an effect as well.

Soot from the fireplace and an old hat completed his disguise. It was far from perfect, but as long as his most recognisable features and the scars were covered, he did not think he would be recognised. He left by door known only to very few people and went outside. He knew the city well, having entertained this habit of his for several years before enrolling himself in the army and tainting his reputation with magic.

He found his favourite inn looking much as it always had. There was a smell of rancid piss and vomit clinging to the rotting, wooden walls. Mud clung to his boots despite the fact that it had not rained for more than a week. Underneath his grimace of disgust, he smiled. It was like coming home.



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Chapter 6, part 2

When nothing horrible occurred, and she did not feel any deathly blows of sharp swords or magic fury, she opened them again, and almost fell over when she saw him smiling at her.

“Good,” he said, apparently taking pity on her. “Then let us continue. Did you notice anything about any of these women yet?”

“The r- Lady Marianne was very unpleasant. She did her best to insult me and acted strange around Ingrid. I don't think you'll want someone that mean.”

“It's not your place to decide what I need in a queen, girl,” he said. “It might be nice to have a woman with a bit of backbone for a change. What else?”

“Everyone seem so tense. I don't think they're very happy, sir.”

“Good.”

“Sir?”

“I want them to pull out each others' hair and scratch out some eyes rather than forming friendships. Anyone sent home from here will be our enemy, and we do not want our enemies to unite against us. Anything else?”

“No sir.”

“Good. Well, continue like that, but make sure no one else leaves. I have yet to make any kind of decision for or against any of them.”

The prince turned away, running a soot covered hand through his already messy hair. He sat down on the chair behind the desk and threw a small gemstone into the green flames. Catherine did not see a difference, but she assumed there was a reason why he did so. She looked longingly at the door and made a small coughing noise. The prince looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

“Can I leave now, sir?”

“No.” His gaze returned to the flames. After a few moments they flashed a ghastly purple and exploded in a dense cloud of black smoke. She heard the prince coughing and scrambling to get out of his chair before the smoke enveloped her as well, making her eyes water and cutting off all air from her lungs. She panicked and tried to find the doors, but she found herself completely blind.

A clanking, rattling noise came from the prince's direction, and for a few, horrible moments, she felt certain that he was abandoning her for death and escaping through the window. Then the smoke cleared as quickly as it had appeared. She found herself on her knees on the floor, the magnificent orange dress she had been dressed in covered in soot from the fireplace, her hands clawing at her throat.

The prince smiled at her.

“Sorry about that, my dear. I did not think it would be that bad. It seems I owe you thanks instead of more scolding. Helena would have been a very bad choice indeed.”

Catherine, still choking, neck burning where she had scratched herself, and in tears over the ruined dress, looked up at him without understanding.

“What,” she coughed.

The prince took a small, ruined bracelet from his desk, apparently the source of the gemstone he had thrown into the fire.

“I tested it, she was so kind as to give me a little token of friendship before she left. Magic. The smoke would mean either death or war. Maybe insanity, I am not absolutely certain.”

Catherine stared at him for a moment.

“I have destroyed the dress,” she whispered. The prince looked at her as if she had just fallen from the moon, then smiled again and waved his hands at her.

“You can destroy them all if you want. You need to stop worrying about that.”

He pulled the chair back up and closed the window, that must have let out the smoke. Catherine rose again and, deciding against asking for permission to leave again, remained where she was.

“I will give you a weekly allowance to cover any expenses you might have. That should make you feel better. Five thousand gold pieces should cover it, would you not agree?”

Catherine gaped at him, shaking her head.

“Come now, my girl. I insist. I will make sure an account is set up for you, then you will simply need to speak to Ingrid if you need anything. We will leave it at that for now. It should grow to a pretty sum before you gain the courage to spend any of it, I imagine.” He laughed at his own joke and pulled out a piece of parchment and a pen.

Catherine stood still in front of the fireplace, wishing again that she could leave. She could hear the pen scribbling across the parchment and felt as if she was digging herself further and further into a grave.

After several minutes he looked up at her for a second, then signed the parchment with a flourish.

“Is there any good reason why you are standing up?”

“No, sir.”

He looked up again, then frowned.

“There are no chairs, Catherine. Did you fail to notice that?”

“No, sir.”

“Well then why did you not tell me? You really are not giving me much of a chance to be a good host.”

“I thought you knew already, sir.”

The prince stood up and swung his own chair over the table in a swift movement. He placed it in front of her with a violent push and glared down at her.

“Of course I knew, I just did not think about it since I was already comfortable myself. You are supposed to be a lady, so please make an effort to act like one. If your host does not offer you a chair, you will ask him for one, understood?”

Catherine nodded and the prince stepped back.

“And if anyone insults you, you insult them back. I know you are not supposed to speak, but surely you can think of something. Women are supposed to be good at these things. Send her a look of some sort. Something.”

He stormed out of the room, the door swinging pathetically in his wake.



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Chapter 6, part 1

After a few, very boring hours, Ingrid discreetly touched her shoulder, and Catherine sent a series of polite smiles around the room before she left for what she assumed would be a change of clothes in preparation for an unpleasant meal.

She could not keep back a sigh as they walked down the little street to her rooms. Ingrid made a warning sound in her throat. Catherine rolled her eyes.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Ingrid's face lit up in something resembling terror. Catherine felt impressed with her acting skills even as panic overwhelmed her.

“This is a disaster. Lady Helena was one of his majesty's favourites. He will be livid when he hears about our failure.”

“Failure,” Catherine asked. “What was I supposed to do?”

“That is besides the point, my lady.” She glanced worriedly at Catherine. “I will speak to him, my lady. I think you might want to stay away from him for a few more hours.”

Catherine nodded, a feeling of dread filling her. She was not at all prepared to receive the blame for any failure, and she was not eager to meet the prince's anger again. She followed Ingrid to the dressing room and allowed herself to be undressed and redressed in a relatively short amount of time. Ingrid was overlooking the process detachedly.

“Ingrid,” Catherine said, in a surprisingly steady voice. “I think it is only fair if you let me hear what the prince has to say about the issue. I'm the one who has to do better after all.”

Ingrid laughed at her poor attempt of convincing her.

“My lady, I would like to insist that you do not meet him right now. He is likely to be rethinking the entire thing, and I do not wish to see him destroy everything simply to be rid of you,” she said in a friendly tone. Catherine felt cold, presented so easily with the possibility of what she assumed would mean her sudden death, but Ingrid did not seem to notice her fear.

She left the room through the bedroom soon after, and Catherine found it very difficult to proceed to have lunch with the group of beautiful creatures she was supposed to get to know without her. She changed her mind when a loud roar that might have come from a large fire escaped through the walls, and quickly made her way outside.

Lunch was just as uncomfortable as she had imagined, but seemed to take forever between the thousand tiny dished and the slow moving conversation. She could not help but notice that two more women had gone, and the fear took away the rest of her appetite.

Just as she was about to despair behind her mask of silence and polite smiles, Ingrid returned to what seemed to be her place behind Catherine's chair, and put a hand on her shoulder. Out of nowhere, a small note appeared in her hand, that simply read “Hand this back to me. I.”

She did as ordered and handed Ingrid the mysterious piece of paper, upon which Ingrid began pulling out her chair. Catherine got on her feet and tried to hide her confusion.

“My lady wishes to retire to her rooms for the rest of the day as she is feeling fatigued after her long journey, and asks you to excuse her,” Ingrid said, then offered Catherine an arm, as if she was really feeling sick. Catherine accepted it, no longer relieved that Ingrid had returned, but yet again admiring the woman's skills.

She nodded and smiled at the well wishes as they left the room. Ingrid's face turned serious as soon as they were out of earshot, and she let her voice sink to a quiet mumble.

“His majesty is not happy, but I think you will be fine. He wishes to speak with you right away, but I think he just wants your opinion of the women that are still here.

The prince's room was messier than before. There were no longer chairs in front of the fireplace, but a smell of burnt leather told her that they might have left their places very recently. What worried her more was the green fire burning on his desk. It did not seem to actually burn anything, but that fact did little to reassure her. She had never, as far as she knew, been that close to actual magic before, and she did not enjoy the experience. There was a strange smell in the rooms, sweet and tangy, like a fruit and yet somehow like incense.

The prince's hair, that had reached his shoulders before, stood around his head like a messy halo. His face was pale, revealing several smaller scars that she had not noticed before due to the large one, now a deep red, across his throat. His dark eyes shone black and his face was so grim, that she could not help but take a step back towards the door when he looked at her.

“Sit down and stop looking so scared, girl,” he hissed at her. She jumped to obey the first command, but stopped when the problem of the missing chairs became apparent again. She decided to do the next best thing and went to stand in the area where she should have been sitting. The prince did not seem to notice.

“Who have you met so far?”

“You majesty, I don't know the names,” she said. His face was suddenly a few centimetres from hers.

“Then you should probably just tell me about them, don't you think?” He spat. Catherine felt the blood rush from her face, but managed to stay where she was, as her fear only seemed to annoy him more.

“There is a tall, very beautiful read headed lady -”

“Lady Marianne.”

“Oh. Thank you. Well, then there's a dark woman with very long hair - “

“Princess Iris.”

“And a blonde woman. Very large, pale eyes?”

“If by large you mean tall, it would be princess Lily Maria. If you mean broad shouldered like a man, it's princess Anna.”

“I didn't notice anyone else that much, your majesty. Except for the blonde woman who left after the brown haired woman went.”

“That would have been lady Helena and lady Gray. I suggest you avoid scaring anyone else off,my dear. This is most unfortunate. I heard that two others left as well. Lady Helena was shoving some potential. And will you stop calling me your majesty, annoying girl! I cannot stand it when people crawl on their knees for me.”

Catherine's face grew warm. A foolish anger rose in her chest.

“I'm not crawling,” she said, before she could stop herself. She closed her eyes and expected something horrible to happen.



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Chapter 5, part 5

The women were different in almost every way, but had their advanced age and beauty in common. Catherine was no longer convinced that the prince was merely a victim of a spell gone bad. If there had not been some very specific selection on his behalf, then the spell must have detected his personal taste in women somehow. Either way she felt terribly inadequate.

The one closet to her right was a tall, pale read headed woman with harsh features and a seemingly endless neck. Her fiery hair was piled on top of her head and made her seem even taller, and she was dressed in dark blue, making her cream coloured skin stand out even more. She, like most of the others, seemed to be in their early or mid twenties, and they all moved with a grace that Catherine would not be able to copy in a thousand years. She sat very still.

The woman next to the read head was a large, blonde woman dressed in light blue with striking blue eyes and a body that, even underneath her dress, gave an impression of strength and agility. She and her neighbour were in such perfect contrast that Catherine suspected they sat next to each other on purpose. The next woman, dressed in dark red, was as dark and soft as the previous was light and hard. Her soft, black hair fell in shiny strands to the seat of her chair, making Catherine remember the scissors of the morning with dread. Even when the length of her hair had been able to compete with this almond eyed woman, it had never been so pretty.

The last woman was also blonde, but with brown eyes. The most striking thing about her was her defined jaw and her large, red lips. Her dress was forest green and her hands were long and slim.

The conversation was revolving around the tale of how someone's brother had caused a problem in a province that controlled part of the silk trade, making the prices soar as the demand had been thousandfold greater than the supply for several months. Catherine did not feel that the subject was important enough to demand her full attention, so she glanced around the room while pretending to listen in.

There were thirteen women apart from Ingrid and herself in the room. The nine others were split into two groups of three and six, but the faces were more than she could take in. A few of them seemed to somehow demand attention with their body language, but she could not put her finger on anything alarming. As she was doing her best to observe the women, she suddenly found herself locking eyes with a brunette in a yellow dress, with short, straight hair in the other end of the room. The woman stared at her for a very long time. Catherine pretend to look around some more, but every time her gaze drifted towards that part of the room, she could feel the woman's eyes on her.

Suddenly, the yellow clad lady rose out of her chair, throwing aside a handkerchief she had been holding in her hands.

“This has gotten ridiculous,” she snarled, looking at every other woman in the room in turn, except for Catherine and Ingrid. “I will no longer risk my honour and good name playing this game and I hope the rest of you will come to your senses as well. The last few additions to our shameless little group have been ridiculous, as we can all agree,” she eyed the one of the women at the table right behind Catherine, most likely the blonde or her dark companion, but she could not tell without turning around. “But the last one is an insult. I apologise, as I do not know your age, my dear, but I will not stand for this. I bid you all farewell.”

She left with slow, deliberate movements, nodding at some, glaring at others. Catherine felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She had not expected for anyone to be so blunt. The room was filled with a stunned silence for several moments before the conversations started again. As Catherine turned back towards the table, she noticed the blonde at her left hand getting up from her chair with an apologetic glance at her.

“I too will be taking my leave. Goodbye,” she said, and left before anyone could react.

“Better chances for the rest of us,”the other blonde at the table murmured. The read head shot her a chocked look, but did not comment. She turned towards Catherine.

“So, my dear, I hope you journey here went well?”

Catherine smiled and nodded.

“Difficult thing, such a vow. I could never have done it. My great grandmother was silent for a decade hoping to get married to the heir to the throne. She told me she lost all her beliefs when she settled for my great grandfather. Of course, this was on my mothers side.”

Catherine smiled a little more, taking note of the implied insults.

“Is this very common,” the dark haired woman asked in a soft, deep voice that Catherine envied instantly. She had not heard her speak until now. “I never heard of it.”

“Oh, it used to be! It was a wide spread belief that keeping the vow for a settled period of time would grant the young lady in question fulfilment of a wish.” She turned towards Ingrid, and her entire tone and bearing changed to something harsh and demanding, that suited her features frightfully well. “How long will the young lady be silent?”

“My lady has vowed to be silent for at least three years, or until her honoured mother recovers her health,” Ingrid said. Catherine could not quite recognise the intelligent woman from earlier in Ingrid's subdued, slow voice. The read head turned back to Catherine.

“That is very sweet of you, dear,” she said. “Allow me to express my very best wishes for your mother.”

With that, the conversation returned to politics and subjects that seemed tailored for the occasion in their neutrality.



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Chapter 5, part 4

Ingrid did not seem to notice Catherine's shaking hands, and showed her no mercy before Catherine finally gave up and allowed a maid to take away the rest of the food. She was relieved to hear that she could go to bed, much of her brain so preoccupied with the thought of breakfast that she did not notice Ingrid's presence in the bedroom before it was to late to avoid accepting her help to get undressed.

“How on earth did you manage to get these,” Ingrid exclaimed, when she had removed the last layer of clothing from Catherine's upper body. Catherine was torn between the want to cover her front side with her hands and her scarred back with her front. If she turned around, however, it would be a lot more difficult to somehow dress herself in her nightwear.

“Did somebody whip you, my lady?” Ingrid sounded incredulous.

Catherine swallowed and closed her eyes in shame. It did not help her mood that tears had started flowing from her eyes. She had wanted to wait until she was alone before crying, but the humiliation was too much for her. She felt Ingrid's finger on her shoulder blade and did not dare to move away. Ingrid seemed oblivious to her distress.

“Is this a belt buckle? It looks like a belt buckle!”

“Would you please leave me alone, Ingrid,” Catherine managed to say. She did not think her voice gave her away, at least not as much as it could have. Ingrid immediately removed her finger from Catherine's back.

“Please forgive me, my lady. His Majesty had mentioned your difficult family, but I was not expecting … well, belt buckles.” In a surprising show of understanding she threw a nightgown over Catherine's head and allowed her to put in on on her own. “Do forgive me. I hope you sleep well.”

With that, Catherine was left almost alone in the enormous room. A servant was turning off the candles with a long stick that seemed to have been made for the purpose, and left her in the glow of a few small lamps. She crawled across the bed and crept underneath the covers, making an effort to enjoy the luxury. In the end all she could do was cry.

When she woke up the next morning, she had a magnificent headache and the first sun rays of the day were blinding her. Someone was in the process of drawing all the curtains, which seemed to take a large effort. She watched for a moment, then began crawling out of the large bed. Despite her mood the night before, she had slept better than she could remember ever having slept. Most likely due to the soft mattress and the silky covers.

Ingrid came through the door, dressed much like the day before, and with an even more efficient air about her. The preparations she had spoken about seemed to have been as good as made. In a rush of activity, Catherine was washed, dressed, and styled by a small team of women. Ingrid began laying out incredible dresses on the bed, asking Catherine to pick one or two of each selection.

Before long, her head was swimming. She had no idea which dresses to pick, and Ingrid's impatient stares did little to help her.

“Ingrid, wont you please pick some for me,” she pleaded. Ingrid nodded and left the room yet again. A strange metallic sound reached Catherine's ears, reminding her that she had heard the same noise a moment earlier. She whipped her head around and was appalled at the sight of her hair on the floor. A stunned maid was holding a pair of scissors and staring at her with blank fear in her eyes.

“I need to take off at least some of this, my lady. It looks horrible. I promise I wont take much off.” Said the woman. She sounded apologetic, as if she had somehow already sensed how much her actions would disturb the owner of the hair. Catherine stared at the strands on the floor for a moment longer, then sighed and allowed herself to fall back into the chair.

“It makes no difference,” she mumbled, and closed her eyes when the sound came back. She wanted to be alone again, so she could cry.

Dressed and covered in so much make-up that she wanted to scratch it all off just to feel it under her nails, she was allowed to have her breakfast. She concentrated on the instructions she had been given, and either she succeeded, or Ingrid had decided to allow her to have a meal in peace before her big entrance.

She felt ridiculous. The dress was, she supposed, beautiful. It was dark blue, with strings of pearls falling everywhere, a small neckline and a giant skirt that made it difficult to move through small doors. Walking lightly, as instructed, was a true challenge. Ingrid praised her on their way down the stairs, making her feel marginally better.

They crossed the road between the many buildings and entered another house that seemed larger than the one she had come from. It was not built around a yard, and the rooms inside were not spilt apart but, if possible, even larger than her so called chambers. She bit back the urge to pause, and continues to walk purposefully just ahead of Ingrid, who was subtly giving her directions.

“Please welcome the latest and final guest, Lady Catherine. The daughter of a friend of His Majesty,” someone said, loud enough for everyone to hear, but not so loud that it interrupted any conversations.

Something that looked like twenty different women, all young and pretty, and in enormous dresses similar to her own, were spread around the room, reclining in ornate chairs and talking amongst themselves. Most of them paused and looked up at her with varying degrees of boredom. She followed her instructions and smiled and courtesied at everyone. She was biting her tongue, feeling insanely stupid, but Ingrid did not seem to have any issues with her performance.

She discreetly pointed in the direction of a table surrounded by chairs, many of which were empty. Only four other women occupied the space, and it did seem like a good place to start. Ingrid stepped forward and, making sure she was not interrupting anyone, explaind Catherine's supposed situation.

“My lady Catherine has taken a vow of silence to ensure her mother's good health, and I am here to speak on her behalf,” she said in a humble tone, then drew backwards and seemed to almost disappear against the furniture. Catherine smiled and nodded at the bored faces. The women fell back into what must have been their previous conversation, held in very different, quite strong accents. Catherine felt lucky that they did do their best to speak her mother tongue, even if it was for the prince's sake.



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