The Opal Crown (8 page)

“Which one are you?” she whispers in a sharp voice.

“Wilha. Elara is in another carriage.”

Arianne merely grunts in reply. To the guards, she says, “There’s a person of interest in one of the other carriages. Deal with her.” She grabs my arm and begins leading me into the palace. “The king asks you to wait in your chambers until he is ready to see you.”

Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “Welcome
home, Princess.”

Chapter 10

Elara

N
ot too long after we’re waved through the city gates, my carriage at the back of the convoy heaves and shudders. The driver steers the horses to the side of the road, and when we come to a stop, Rolf appears in my window.

“What happened to the carriage?” I ask.

“Busted axle.” Rolf grins. “It makes for a very convenient distraction.” He glances around and continues, “In a moment, I want you to step out onto the street. I don’t think we’re being watched, but nevertheless, we must be cautious. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“The rest of the way where?” I ask, but he doesn’t reply.

Rolf watches the street intently. After a few more minutes, he opens the door and I exit the carriage, just as a large crush of men and women pass by. We join them and they nod politely.

Behind us, a few of Lord Royce’s men begin shouting and I tense up.

“Keep walking,” Rolf says quietly. “They’re going to act as though you just escaped and ran back in the direction of the gates.”

“Can we trust them?”

“Of course. They’ve sworn an oath of loyalty.”

“To Lord Royce?”

Rolf pauses before answering. “Not exactly.”

By now, the rest of the carriages have traveled far ahead of us. All at once, it seems that Wilha is finally recognized. A crowd swarms her carriage,
pushing and shoving. I start forward
toward them, but Rolf places a restraining hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t even think about it. There’s nothing you can do, and help is already on the way.” He gestures to a line of palace guards on horseback. The crowd disperses and the carriage moves forward again. “We’re going to turn at the next street.”

He grabs my arm, but I shrug out of his grasp. “No, I want to make sure she reaches the Opal Palace.”

“His Lordship was quite clear I was to escort you straight to your new lodgings. Against your will, if I have to.”

“Really? Well, did
His Lordship
also tell you just how loudly I can scream? Loud enough, I’m sure, to draw attention. I assure you, I can be quite convincing.”

“So I’ve been told,” Rolf says sourly. He curses. “Fine, we walk to the palace. The place we’re going to is in the southern section of the city, anyway. But keep your head down, and your mouth shut.”

A crowd, keeping a wary distance from the guards, has surrounded Wilha’s carriage, and they continue on as though they’ve become a part of the royal escort to bring the Masked Princess home. Rolf and I keep a safe distance behind.

We enter Eleanor Square and journey up the hill leading toward the Opal Palace. The entrance gates to the palace grounds are ornate and golden with a swirling letter
A
at the top. Guards wave the carriages inside. Just before Rolf and I turn away, I glance up at the balcony. A boy whom I recognize as Andrei stands looking down upon the crowd, a displeased expression on his face. The opal crown rests atop his head. The doors behind him open and my gaze is drawn to a second figure emerging onto the balcony.

It’s only then that I understand the horrible mistake I have just made.

Chapter 11

Wilha

I
follow Arianne’s quick strides into the palace, but stop when I hear excited shouts echoing from the yard. “What’s going on?”

Arianne doesn’t slow down; she merely grunts that whatever scene Elara is currently causing isn’t her problem.

The palace has not changed in my absence. The cream-colored walls, the vaulted ceilings that drip with crystal chandeliers, the ornate gold-leafed doors and gilded furniture are still here. And yet it all seems far grander than I remembered.

When we arrive at my chambers, maids are scurrying around, lighting candles and stoking a fire in the fireplace. A golden teapot and a platter of cakes sit on a table. Once the servants have left, Arianne waits quietly while I explore my rooms. Here, too, nothing has changed; all is as I remember. Yet somehow I cannot help but see it through new eyes. I pick up the golden teapot and think of the man digging in the streets for a single opal.

A thought occurs to me, and I put down the teapot and enter my closet. Far from being empty, as I had expected, several masks sit inside the glass cases. Most of my collection still resides with the Strassburgs in Korynth; these ones must be brand-new.

“Andrei commissioned Master Welkin to begin producing more masks,” Arianne says, entering the closet.
She
steps closer, and I recognize the tinkling, musical
sound that accompanies her movements. “More will be arriving soon.” She thrusts the necklace of jeweled keys
into my hands. “I’ll wait outside a moment while you orient yourself.”

After she leaves, I run my finger over the necklace. When I find the jeweled key that unlocks the glass cases, I remember all too keenly why I wanted to flee my life last year. It was not solely because I did not wish to marry Stefan Strassburg. It was the mask and everything that goes with it.

Holding the keys, I finally understand something: I am not the same girl who once spent hours staring into the mirror, wondering what was so wrong with her. Nor am I the girl who once hid under a tarp, too afraid to venture into the city of Korynth.

In the months since then, I have become someone else entirely.

I find Arianne in my sitting room, eating a slice of cake. “Right, then,” she says when she sees me. “Your brother has planned a series of parties to welcome you back to the city. He will expect you to show him your support.” She pauses, and the scorn in her voice is evident. “So there shall be no complaining about all the public appearances you are to make this month. Understood?”

She pauses again. No doubt she is waiting for me to acquiesce.

Quietly I untie my mask, and thrust it into her hands.

“Tell my brother I no longer prefer to wear the mask.” Ignoring the shocked look on her face, I add, “Things will not be as they were before, because
I
will not be as I was before.”

Chapter 12

Wilha

I
pull on the thick black cloak Arianne offers and flip the hood up. We leave my chambers and make our way down the corridor. As we walk, we pass no servants, nor any of the nobles who often linger inside the palace, hoping to be received by the king. I wonder if they have been ordered away so as not to see my face.

After Arianne relayed my message, Andrei sent back one of his own, summoning me to the Eleanor Throne Room to meet with him.

“The king is expecting us,” Arianne says to the soldier standing guard outside the doors.

He nods, glances quickly at me, and enters the room. When he emerges again, he signals we should go inside.

Arianne and I approach, our footsteps echoing in the hall. Even though he sits on the gilded throne, I can see Andrei has grown several inches taller in the last year. His hair—curling around his face underneath the opal crown—is brown, the same shade as mine and Elara’s. His lips are pursed in a frown. His blue eyes stare at me curiously as I sink into a curtsy before him.

“Leave us,” he commands his guards in a voice that is deeper than I remembered. After they’ve gone and the door has shut behind him, he says, “Show yourself, Sister. I wish to see your face.”

I reach up and push away my hood.

He looks at me for a long moment. “I have seen portraits of our mother,” he says. “You look like her.”

I am not certain he has offered this as a compliment. Our mother died immediately after giving birth to Andrei, so I have no idea if he holds fond feelings toward her. There is so much I do not know about Andrei at all.

“I am happy to be back in your presence,” I say, straightening
up when he bids me to rise.

“Yes, I cannot imagine it was pleasant, hiding out among the scum of Korynth.”

“Thank you, Brother, for bringing me home.” If he hears any hesitation, any hint that I am less than pleased at being brought back to Allegria, he does not show it.

“If our father had betrothed
me
to a Kyrenican dog, I would have run away also. You can be sure I will not sentence you to such a fate.”

I offer him my thanks again, for it is obviously expected.

“There have been many pigeons between Stefan Strass-burg and myself. He is aware that you were in hiding last year, though we have been
vague regarding the details. The official story among both kingdoms will be that you fell ill and decided to travel back to Galandria to regain your strength in a warmer climate.”

“Are they threatening war?” I ask.

“No. My advisors tell me they most likely don’t want to publicly admit they were so easily taken in by the deceptions of a weak, deceased king,” he says, and I wince, for it is our
own father he speaks of with such little regard. “And
Galandria is currently in no position to fight a war, in any event. For now the peace seems to be holding, although a new treaty will have to be negotiated. In a few weeks’ time, we will announce that your betrothal to the crown prince has been broken. The Strassburgs also believe your decoy escaped from her cell in the middle of the night.” His lip curls. “They are currently searching Korynth for her.”

I am unsure how to respond, so I say nothing. In the silence that follows, I’m certain I hear the faint sound of cheering, and turn slightly toward the windows.

“Your return to the city has created a stir,” Andrei says, following my gaze. “The people love you, you know. Sometimes they even sing songs about you.” He frowns. “No one ever sings about me.”

He turns to Arianne. “Where is Lord Royce? I want to know exactly how the other girl escaped.”

Escaped? Does he mean Elara? I open my mouth to ask, but think better of it.

With a curt nod, Arianne leaves to summon Lord Royce.

“So, it seems you have a twin,” Andrei says.

“Yes. It seems I have.”

“And you just became aware of this last year?” Andrei crosses his arms. “This was not something you and Father kept from me?”

“It was kept from me just as surely as it was kept
from you.”

“I knew there had to be a logical explanation for the mask. I was not as stupid as you to believe the rumors.” The scorn in his voice and the expression on his face reminds me of Elara. “Speaking of which,” he continues, “what’s this I hear about you not wishing to wear your mask?”

“I did not see the point of it,” I say carefully. “Now that Elara’s presence is known to both of us.”

“But it is not known to the people. They still believe the rumors, and they will want to see the Masked Princess.”

“I had hoped we could let the people know
me
, Wilha-mina, without the mask. . . . I had also hoped they could know Elara. Our sister.” I watch his face while I speak, but I can’t guess what he’s thinking.

The double doors open behind me, and I hear Arianne speaking softly. To Lord Royce, I assume.

Andrei leans back in his throne, studying me. “Your face isn’t very interesting without the mask,” he decides. “Once you are properly settled in you will resume your appearances on the balcony. I shall be joining you, and I will expect you to show your devotion to me as your new king.”

“Are you sure that is such a good idea? The people nearly attacked me in the street. I do not think they love me nearly as much as you believe.”

“Your appearances on the balcony will be a nice diversion. Let them stare in wonder at you and your mask and forget, if only for a moment, their own woes.” He turns to Arianne. “Escort her back to her room. She is to wear a mask always. I do not fancy seeing the likeness of my dead mother flitting around the palace like a ghost.”

“Of course, Sire,” Arianne says with a thinly disguised smile. She reaches for me, but I ignore her outstretched arm.

“Andrei, please. Can you not reconsider? Our father—”

“The king has spoken,” says a voice from behind. “You have been taught better than to argue with your sovereign.”

For a moment my heart stops altogether. I was mistaken; it was not Lord Royce who accompanied Arianne into the hall. Instinctively, my fingers tense, grasping for a sword I do not have. I turn around.

Lord Murcendor stands behind me.

He does not glower or scowl, or appear threatening in any way. Instead, he wears a disapproving frown, as though I am a child who has just disappointed him. In his hand he carries a jeweled mask.

“Your Highness,” he says, bowing. “How nice to see
you again.”

Chapter 13

Elara

P
erhaps King Fennrick was right about me all along.
When he first looked upon me, he stared into the future and thought he saw another Aislinn Andewyn. A younger twin who would one day betray her sister. I have hated him for this and refused to acknowledge him as my father. And now what have I done? I have abandoned Wilha to the man who tried to assassinate her.