“And what year would that be?”
“Why, 1857, of course.”
TWELVE
“S
he’s waking.”
“My head hurts. What happened?” I murmured, groggily.
“You fainted, Mademoiselle,” the maid responded.
“I had the strangest dream.” I paused, recalling the details. “I was the Princess of Monaco. Isn’t that nuts?”
“You see,” she whispered, out of the corner of her mouth, eyes darting to someone standing on the other side of me.
“Yes, she’s had quite the trauma. She needs more rest.”
I twisted my shoulders and looked in the direction of the male voice just long enough to see a medicine dropper coming at me. The liquid forced into my mouth tasted like honey, and yet it was somehow bitter.
“No drugs.” I barely got the words out before the world went dark again.
Sleep was uneasy. I tossed and turned as snatches of the past week drifted before me like a film playing in reverse. I saw the cavern with its hypnotic glow. Then, the light changed, and it was streaming through the terrace doors of our beautiful French villa, illuminating my jewels in their rosewood box.
I groaned and twisted, blinking my eyes open and shut until they remained wide. Beautiful, warm rays of afternoon sun trickled into the quiet room. Shaking the dream away, I untangled myself from the quilts of my strange, new, canopy bed and opened the doors to the balcony. The sea looked peaceful and inviting—a beautiful day to be out on the water—if only I could find a phone and send for a cab. Of course, it would help to know where I was.
I stopped mid-thought, as my last encounter with the maid came rushing back. You are the Princess of Monaco! Oh my God, the painting—it looked just like me, just like my reflection.
I pushed my confusion aside. Could I have imagined the last twenty-four hours? Maybe I woke in this room earlier and created this elaborate hallucination. I was probably concussed after my fall from Marguerite Island.
Wandering the room, I felt along the wall for light switches but found only gas lamps and a few sconces. There was no phone either.
That’s because it’s 1857, you fool.
“No, no, no, no!” I mumbled to myself.
I hadn’t seen a phone anywhere in the palace, not even at the party. Usually, people texted or checked their cell phones no matter where they were, even if they had been playing a game.
I walked to the antique desk by the fireplace and pulled the first drawer open hard and fast, surprising myself as it hit the floor with a thud. A piece of wood went flying. Upon closer inspection, I realized I’d knocked a small compartment loose. Rubbing my fingers along the back, I discovered a panel that could be removed. A small, leather-bound book was hidden inside. Feeling a sense of dread, I turned the book over. The back read Princess Sapphira Grimaldi de Monaco. I flipped the book open at random.
22 July 1857
Charles has gone away once again to deal with the politics of our position within the Kingdom. Mother is busy with her Constitutions, and HE continues to torture me. I’ve heard rumors he is in league with charcoal society. They oppose my brother and I fear we have a traitor in our midst. With my father and brother gone, I am at his mercy. I fear he will kill me.
I breathed in sharply, flipping the next several pages of the book, but they spoke only of gossip and social events. Then I found one dated a week later.
Mother continues to dismiss my disgust at his inappropriate advances; I think she encourages him. He wants me for some political end which I have not yet figured out. I dislike the idea of opposing Mother but I refuse to accede to the will of that snake. I must marry and move away. I shall procure a love spell from the alchemist. It’s my only chance. If I remain then I am as good as dead.
I tucked the book away, and lay down on the bed, wondering who she spoke of. It was time to face facts. Nick was not here.
If I was to believe the tall, thin maid with the pinched face, then I had somehow awoken in another time—and in another body, for that matter.
That was a pretty hard truth to swallow, but the evidence was all around me. And this Princess Sapphira was afraid of someone, but who?
I stood and returned to the sitting room door. That reminded me—where had my visitor gone? Had he really exited through this door and escaped somehow? My eyes scanned every inch. I walked inside the room to the armoire and opened it. There was no way out of here. What was I missing? Shivering, I rubbed my arms, realizing there was a draft coming from the far right of the wardrobe. I moved the dresses and pushed on the panel. It slid to the side.
I ran into the other room and grabbed a candle off the mantle. Quickly lighting it, I returned to the wardrobe and pushed it into the darkness, careful to keep the flame away from the dresses. There was a passageway of about three feet wide. Where did it lead to?
Leaning against the wardrobe frame, I thought of perhaps barricading it with something to prevent any further surprises.
“Sapphira!”
I slammed the doors shut, blowing the candle out as I spun. My heart pounded at the shrillness of her voice.
“What are you doing?” Alastríona asked.
Cold sweat broke all over my body.
I ignored her question. “Did you want something?”
She gave me a confused look.
“I’ve come to accompany ye to dinner. Why aren’t ye dressed? Where’s Anais?”
“How should I know?” I snarled. I had no idea who this Anais was.
“I’m here, mademoiselle,” a cheery voice answered, from the other room. Oh, that who.
The tall, thin maid with the pinched face bustled me out of and into garments in under half an hour which seemed like record-breaking time, especially given that she was under Alastríona’s scrutiny, or maybe that was the reason. As she primped my hair, Alastríona shifted her steely gaze back and forth between myself and the room where the wardrobe stood. Did she know about the tunnel? It sure seemed like it. I thought back to my encounter. Had it really been a man? Could it have been a woman?
“Fini,” Anais said, leading me to the mirror.
I turned away doing my best to keep the tears inside. The reflection was a reminder of everything that was wrong.
Alastríona tapped her foot rudely, so I pushed past her into the hall and headed for the ballroom where I’d heard her say dinner was being served tonight.
Maria sat at the head of the table like a Goddess on Mount Olympus. Beside her was the snooty and boring Comte de Chalais. Unfortunately, there I was on his other side. The Graf, Conrad who was the only interesting one at the table was far away. Boo! He spoke at length to the courtier on his left but I couldn’t hear what they discussed. Every now and then I would catch his eye, but we never spoke. The evening droned on with talk of politics, books and paintings, but no one asked my opinion and I certainly didn’t engage.
Maria at last stood up and the room fell silent. “My dear friends,” she began. Her smile recognized the whole table. “We are here, as you know to thank Graf Von Württemberg, who saved the life of my fair daughter. Please, raise your glasses.”
Not your daughter, I thought to myself, defiantly.
There was a series of clinks and praises and I took a large sip to settle my nerves.
“Now, Princess Sapphira shall honor our brave hero with a dance.”
The wine that was swimming in my mouth, dribbled down my chin as I coughed. All heads twisted in my direction.
“Sorry. I choked,” I murmured. “My apologies.”
Maria ignored my outburst and went on. “Please stand.”
Henri patted my thigh under the table, causing me to jump once again.
“Sapphira, are you quite all right?” Maria asked.
I faked a smile.
“Then please begin,” she instructed the musicians.
Conrad came for me. Panic made my legs shake.
“Don’t forget, I’m next,” Henri calle
d out, waving a little booklet in the air. I had the urge to hit him with it.
Thoughts of tripping in front of all these people came to the forefront of my mind. As the musicians began a simple, slow song, I could feel the sweat gathering. Oh, how I miss you, deodorant.
“I don’t dance,” I whispered, which wasn’t entirely truthful because I loved dancing, but ballroom dancing wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence in my life.
“You’ll do fine,” he whispered back, gripping me tightly.
I looked down at my feet in panic, coincidentally stepping on his foot as if to prove my point. Oops!
“Just look at me and clear your head,” he whispered.
He was right. As long as I didn’t try to do anything, we flew gracefully around the room. I could have been standing on his toes for how easy he made it. I think, at one point, I might have been. By the end, I actually began to enjoy it, apart from the audience. Of course, that’s when the music stopped. Maria and the guests clapped and Conrad let me go.
With a curtsy and a nod, I excused myself. I needed a breather after an encounter like that.
I wandered down a hallway I’d seen people using and just as I rounded the corner, an older man with disheveled grey hair, a long white beard and thick glasses spun me about.
“Prinţesă, you never came. What happened?” His ancient round face carried more lines than a modern atlas. He pulled me off to the side. “Where is Francois?”
“Who—” I started to protest his grip when Alastríona appeared at the far end of the hall.
“Alchemist!” Alastríona shouted. “There ye are! Princess Maria requires more of the sleep tonic.”
His eyes shot back to me. “Send Francois and I’ll give you another.” Then he turned to the woman and strolled in her direction. “Is it working for her then? I really should speak with her before I give her more.”
I dug my fingernails into my palms, listening as the old man’s voice grew faint in the distance. What was that all about? I took a few steps forward and surveyed the ballroom. Conrad was busy speaking to a woman from dinner; Maria and Henri were otherwise occupied.
The grand entrance door, which normally boasted guards, had been left unattended. I was close now, so close, I could probably slip out without anyone noticing.
Heart beating wildly, I waited for any sound to clue me in that they noticed what I was doing, but there was none. I inched forward, sticking to the wall like trim.
The guards were probably standing outside, but what if they weren’t?
My heart drummed and my lungs heaved, but I pushed past the feelings as I ran across the open courtyard, farther and farther away. At last, I stopped at a stone wall that lined the perimeter of the cliff. Surrounded by green foliage, in the falling darkness, I kicked myself for taking off without thinking it through. The Mediterranean was far below, and I had no idea how to get down.
Where was I going, anyway? The Lérins Islands to find that spinning cavern? I’d need a boat for one thing. I sat on the wall, gasping for breath and looking for dots of light on the landscape. At last, I began to breathe more easily, which was not a simple task, given the corset. No one had noticed my departure. Or, maybe, they no longer cared.
I began to shiver. I’m not the Princess of Monaco. Time travel is not possible. I am in a coma because that stupid ahole Nick dropped me from a cliff and this is an elaborate dream. Nothing else makes sense.
A trembling started up inside, and I closed my eyes, fighting it. But I could not close my eyes to memory and I saw the diary in my mind. Saw the frantic script on the paper. Remembered the conversation behind the closed door. If this was real, then I was in trouble.
I have to keep going. I don’t know where but I have to get away from this poisonous palace. I rose and followed the wall four feet until I came to a path leading down through the trees. The overgrown pathway was made of stones. Weeds and branches shot up between the footholds.
The loud snap of a twig caused me to flinch in surprise.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
“Conrad? Oh shit!” I said, placing my hand over my chest.
“I apologize. I didn’t intend to frighten you.”
“It’s fine,” I said, trying to collect myself.
“I saw you leave the palace. I was promised another dance.”
“I know. Sorry.” I began walking down the path. “You seemed occupied with that chick from dinner.”
“Chick? Is that a Monégasque term?”
I shook my head. Shit! I’d need to control my slang. “I’m referring to the woman, of course, who was beside you at dinner?”
“Ah, so she’s a chick? Good to know. I’m always learning new words in your language. I cringed. “I was telling her of my home,” he said at last, walking beside me.
“Your home—where is that?”
“The Swabian Alb.”
“Like the Black Forest?” I said, recognizing the German territory and thinking of his title. The Graf Von Württemberg. This now made sense to me.
“You’ve been there?” he questioned.
“My mother’s family is from—” I was about to say Germany and then realized it may not be called that, “—that area,” I said, recovering.
He looked at me queerly. “My apologies. I thought they were French.”
Shit! My foot was permanently shoved in my mouth with this guy. “Hmm, about that,” I said, wondering how to recover.
“Where are you going? This is a cliff.”
“I don’t know. I’m just walking. I need air.”
“Could I interest you in returning? This path looks overgrown and most unsafe for the likes of a delicate flower such as yourself.”
I snorted. I’d been called a lot of things in life but never that.
“I’m beginning to recognize a pattern with you, Prinzessin. You are always fleeing.”
I realized he was gently reproaching me for last night’s hasty departure. I slowed down.
“I’m sorry for last night.”
“It’s all right. Are you feeling more yourself now?”
“That’s just it. I’m not. I wasn’t kidding about everything I said. I do need to get away.”
He stood there staring.
“I must get home.”
“Home? Where might that be?”
How to explain home was a hundred and fifty years in the future.
“Never mind,” I said, picking up the pace again just as a gnarly branch caught my heel, pulling me to the ground.
“Are you hurt?”
I picked a twig from the palm of my hand and shook my head no. Only my pride, and he didn’t need to know that.
“Bitte. Pardon my hands,” he said, reaching down and lifting me to my feet. “Roll your foot,” he commanded, as he bent down to look.
“Does this cause you pain?” The words were barely out of his mouth before he swooped me into his arms. “I’ll carry you back.”
My heart skipped a beat. Was it wrong to enjoy this?
“Oh, you don’t have to. I can walk. Anyway, I don’t want to go back,” I said. But it was too late. He was already striding along with me in his arms.
“I realize you are not yourself after such an experience.” He smiled down at me.
How right he was.
“I guess I must sound crazy to you,” I said, giving in and smiling back at him. He carried me a few more feet. Silence dangled in the air, much like my legs.
“Your anschneiden is very nice,” he said.
“Pardon?” I followed his gaze to my chest, which was popping out the top of my dress. I didn’t recognize the word but it sounded very dirty. Was he the nipple tweaker?
“Die Brosche,” he said, shifting his eyes.
“Oh, this. Thank you,” I said, glancing back down at my bosom, which, to be honest, framed the broach quite nicely.
“I apologize for staring earlier,” he said.
“Don’t be silly,” I replied, th
inking in this dress, I’d stare too. “Honestly, I didn’t even notice.” I forced out the words, pushing my foolish inner dialogue aside.
“I was reminded of when I first saw you. You were a fair sight, dancing with the Comte de Chalais in that ruby gown.”
More confused than ever, I tried to focus. The wine in this Palace was potent; perhaps I’d misheard him.
“I was dancing with Henri when I fell down the stairs?”
“Nein.” He cracked a smile. “I attended one of your parties two months ago. You forget me. You did seem distracted that night although I thought we had a rather good talk after about the future. You seemed most interested in my plans which is why I came back. You are unlike any other fräulein I’ve ever encountered and I have difficulty looking away when you are near”
He seemed to take my silence as encouragement.
I smiled, flattered, but baffled that he too seemed to believe I was this Princess. Did I really look and act so much like her?
“Thank you, you are very kind. You didn’t finish your story from the other night with regards to my rescue. Did you notice if there was anyone following me?”
“Following you?” His green eyes sparkled now, or maybe it was the wine, regardless this man was growing on me.
“The Comte de Chalais.”
“You mean that little weasel, Henri was there?”
“My apologies? I was just noticing someone off in the distance. Isn’t that the Comte de Chalais coming toward us now?”
He rode up quickly on a horse and came to an abrupt halt directly in our path.
“Bonsoir, Graf Von Württemberg. Is everything all right?”
“Ja, Lady Sapphira injured her ankle.”
“Are you hurt, ma chère?” Henri’s brows lifted as he paused. He glanced at my ankle which was close to him since Conrad still held me tightly.
“I’m fine.”
“It appears to be better now. Set her down and we’ll see if she can stand on it.” Henri’s tone held a growl. Conrad didn’t miss the threat. He set me down quickly, yet gently, and took a step back.
Disappointment festered. I liked this Graf. Besides, I didn’t want to go back to that prison.
Cursed be the Crown (Cruel Fortunes Book 1) Page 7
