by Cora Caraway
“There’s a diagram in here somewhere.” She tosses a pack of light blue paper onto the table before me. “Don’t ask me to help. I can’t be bothered to read directions.”
“When’s your wedding, again?”
“Not this Saturday, but next.” She scribbles something in a notepad.
“And you expect me to make 1,000 swans by then?”
“You will, unless you want me to reveal all to your fair fiancé.”
I study the diagram, trying not to fume. It only requires 14 steps. It can’t be too difficult. I assume that Natalia wants blue swans, since that’s what she threw at me. Choosing a piece, I make the first fold.
“Are any of our friends going to be joining us?” I ask. “Or relatives, maybe?”
“You aren’t going to get out of swan-making, if that’s what you’re asking.” She looks over at my effort, eyeing it critically like I should have finished by now. “It’s just you, so you’re going to have to fold a lot faster than that.”
Instead of saying something I’ll regret, I review step five. Though it’s more work for me, I’m relieved that I’ll be working alone. I’m not sure I could survive Natalia’s favorite people. Still, I can’t help but poke at her. “Why do you want me to be your maid of honor, anyway? Do you really have so few friends?”
“Don’t you know? You don’t choose the wedding party based on who’s closest to you. It’s about who you can coerce to do the most free labor.”
Mercifully, Natalia seems to be engrossed in her notepad. I may be undergoing torture by 1,000 paper cuts, but at least I don’t have to hold a conversation with her. I focus on my swan.
The directions get harder near the end. I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do, but at some point my swan stopped looking like the one on the instructions. Something’s definitely wrong with its neck, and it comes out looking like some kind of mutant. If only it would come to life and eat Natalia. That would solve most of my problems.
Silence reigns for the better part of two hours. By the end, I’m sporting three fresh paper cuts. Fifteen swans sit in rows before me. The newer ones have evolved to look much less like mutants, to my relief. I’m actually proud of my most recent creation.
“What is this?” Natalia picks up my perfect swan, crushing it in her fist. “Why are you making them blue? Start over in pink.”
“But you threw the blue paper at me.” I watch the crumpled swan fall to the floor. If she didn’t want it, at least she could have let me keep it.
“I want pink.”
I look at her dully. “You’re going to make me do this again, aren’t you.” I picture myself drowning in a lake of rainbow swans.
“You’ll keep going until you do it right.”
Mechanically, I reach for a piece of pink paper. Most likely it will be deemed to be the wrong shade an hour or so from now. “Don’t you have sisters, or someone else who could help you with this?”
Natalia lounges in her chair, studying her sprawling seating chart. “I only have one sister, and she’s useless. Vivian’s off at university getting a degree in criminal psychology. Can you imagine, the daughter of a duke studying criminals? I guess you can, I’m sure they’d be much like you. Anyway, it’s indecent. She thinks her summer course is more important than my wedding. ‘It’s required, Natalia.’ Like my wedding isn’t?”
“How awful of her.” Sadly, I don’t think Natalia detects my sarcasm.
“Daddy said she didn’t have to come, and for once I couldn’t make him budge. I should have expected it. Pouting doesn’t work as well over the phone.”
I concentrate on my swan, feeling immensely sorry for Natalia’s father.
Natalia lets out a gusty sigh. “If you’re just going to sit there, you might as well do something useful. Look at this catalog with me.”
It’s all I can do not to throttle her. Is she even going to use these swans?
“I got this for some light reading.” Natalia drops a tome of a magazine in front of me.
My stomach drops at the dress on the cover. She can’t seriously want my opinions on dresses, can she? I’m not sure how much more satin and lace I can take.
“Are you sure you want me to help with this?” I think I’m starting to sweat a little. “Wouldn’t the queen be more helpful, or Valda? Marc, maybe?”
“Don’t be stupid. You can help me, you’re a girl.”
And totally out of my depth where dresses are concerned. Not that I want to tell Natalia that. I’m sure she’d find some diabolical way to use it against me.
“It won’t be that difficult,” Natalia assures me. “I only need to pick out six or so.”
“Six … magazines?”
“Six dresses. My god, Grace, pull yourself together. I’m having my main gown made in Andova, which is what I’ll walk down the aisle in, but I still want six or so to rotate through over the course of the reception. Why, how many dresses are you planning to wear?” She narrows her eyes, as if she expects me to try and outdo her.
“I thought one was traditional.”
“Yes, for peasants.”
Natalia pours over every page of that cursed magazine, providing a running commentary. “This dress costs 15,000 euros. That’s not worth it unless everyone knows somehow. Maybe I could put the price in the program. No, that’s tacky. I’ll have to have a servant spread the word.”
“Check out this model! She looks like a harlot cow. Did she really think she could pull that dress off?”
“Can you believe this? Only 500 euros for this dress? Why is it even in here?”
If I didn’t have my swans to focus on, I think I’d go insane.
“Look at this one.” Natalia brandishes the magazine. Thankfully, she’s close to the end. “It’s positively scandalous. It leaves almost nothing to the imagination, especially up top. It would drive Marc wild.”
It is a bit risqué. I think she’d be in danger of popping out of that dress, though I’m sure Natalia wouldn’t mind. “What would your father think?”
“Oh, it would drive Daddy mad.” Her lip curls. “I love it.”
“That’s five that you’ve said you love. Are you almost done deciding?”
“Of course not. We’re going to have to start over at the beginning.”
I have the urge to throw her magazine out the window. “But why?”
“I might have missed something. We’ll read through two or three more times.”
Is this another angle to her plot? Is she trying to keep me from marrying Damon by making me hate weddings? Because I think it may be working.
By the time Natalia finally closes her magazine, content with the eight dresses she’s chosen, I’ve amassed a small army of swans. My fingers are starting to go numb. I keep folding though. Maybe if I work hard, she’ll let me go. I blink hard. Natalia is incapable of showing mercy. I must be delirious at this point.
“Now for the seating arrangements.” The enormous chart groans under its own weight as Natalia pulls it forward. “I’m still not sure how many tables we’ll need, but we’ll start with one hundred to be safe. Now, the Kadars have never gotten along with the Fas, since my grandmother never forgave my father for taking her daughter away. Never mind that the whole thing was arranged by both of my grandfathers. But since my babica outlived both of them, she keeps the feud burning. We’ll put her at table three with her sons and their families. Of course, my uncle Albin will need a separate table altogether, after what he said about my aunt Eva.”
My eyes start to glaze over as she prattles on about her family dynamics, going into far too much detail about who cheated on who, or stole from who, and who’s giving who the silent treatment over an argument that took place twenty years ago. At least I’ll be able to avoid all this by not inviting any family at all. I guess that’s the silver lining of having horrible parents.
Natalia happily pushes notecards around paper tables, making me take endless notes. Her family alone seems gargantuan, but she also has to
include anyone remotely connected to the Fa family to avoid snubbing anyone. I don’t think Natalia minds the hangers-on one bit. I’m sure she’d invite the whole world if she could, just so they could see her marry a prince. In fact, she has an entire table set aside for the press.
“There we are.” Natalia looks over her work, the vast number of concentric circles that have taken over the table. “Now we just need to squeeze in the Lion family.”
It’s not long before the sound of shuffling paper becomes agonizing. I think I’m developing a twitch.
“That’s enough of that,” Natalia declares. “I want your opinion on the song for the first dance. Now, I’ve already picked out a song…”
Oh, thank god.
“…But I need your help choosing the right version.”
The song she’s chosen is in a language I don’t understand. It’s also fourteen minutes long. I’d feel sorry for her guests, but they aren’t being subjected to seven different iterations of the same interminable song.
I wince as the eighth version starts playing. “Is this one really much different from the last?”
Natalia rolls her eyes. “Of course it is. You need to listen more carefully, Grace.”
“I’m trying. But I’ve never heard this song before.” Honestly, after almost two hours of torment, I’d be fine never hearing this song again.
Picking up a swan, Natalia twirls it between her fingers. “For someone so in my debt, I’d think you’d be putting a bit more effort into helping me. After all,” she twists the swan’s neck, “I could destroy you with a word.”
There are quite a few words I’d like to throw at her, but now doesn’t seem to be the time.
Natalia turns back to her notepad. “Ah, the last item for today. Choreography for the processional.”
Does she plan to dance down the aisle?
She draws a diagram, listing names and jotting numbers beside them. “I’m planning on nine bridesmaids and nine groomsmen.” She pencils in perfect little arrows that point toward the altar. “You and the best man can walk first. I’ll have to pair off the others.”
I watch her ponder over the names, wondering if these lucky individuals have yet learned of their fate. Are they going to participate willingly, or will Natalia have to get dirt on them, too?
“I’ll worry about the best pairings later,” she says. “All that really matters is me and my groom. I can see Damon now, standing on the altar.”
I look up sharply. “Is he going to be the best man?”
“Of course not, silly. He’s going to be my groom.”
Peering at her notepad, I see that she has written Damon’s name in the groom’s place, and enclosed it in a heart. “You can’t be serious.”
“I don’t see why not. I want to marry Damon. And I always get what I want.”
I laugh. She has some nerve, keeping me locked up in this room, making me plan her wedding to my future husband. If she thinks Damon wants 1,000 paper swans, she’s crazier than I thought.
“What’s so funny?” She angles her head like a viper.
“Just the fact that you think Damon would marry you.”
“Then I bet you’ll find the rest of that tape amusing as well.”
My throat constricts.
“Yes, that’s right.” Natalia leans back in her chair, languidly crossing her legs. “And what did I ask from you?”
“You wanted your wedding date.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “And?”
“And?” I stare at her, confused. “Help with wedding planning?”
“My exact words were ‘and anything else I want.’ And I want Damon.”
I stand up so fast that I knock over my chair. “You can’t have him. He’s not something you can bargain for.”
Now she laughs. “But I can, can’t I? Look, I have evidence of the kind of whore you are. I’m offering a trade, the tape for Damon. Because, believe me, once he sees it, he’s not going to want to even look at you again.”
The floor feels like it’s shifting under me. This can’t be happening, can it?
“I’ll give you the option of leaving quietly, and never contacting Damon again. It would be better that way, for both of you. You don’t have to know how he’ll look at you once he knows you’ve betrayed him. He’ll be sad for a spell, but not bitter about you. If you go now, you can avoid completely shattering his heart.
“But if you stay, I’ll show him the tape. You can take your chances and tell him what you are, but I guarantee you the outcome will be the same either way. He can’t marry someone like you.” Natalia elegantly rises to face me. “You have three days to choose. I need to get him through the breakup phase in time for him to be my groom.”
My hands are trembling. “Why are you doing this?”
“Damon should be mine. You stole him from me.”
I shake my head. “One thing I’ve learned is that you can’t steal emotions. Love has to be freely given.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Natalia flips her hair behind her back. “I told you that you wouldn’t last a minute in court. This is probably for the best. People like me don’t marry for love. People like Damon certainly don’t, especially not once he comes to his senses. We’re a perfect match, in every other way. When you have looks and money, you don’t need something as crass as love.”
She saunters out of the room. “You have three days.”
9
In a daze, I follow her from the palace, lingering in the shadows as she steps into her glossy car and drives away. Headed back to her villa no doubt, probably to send Damon’s measurements off to her tailor and have seven suits made for him.
I can’t believe I walked right into her trap. How could I have let my guard down? I should have known that she wouldn’t give up so easily. A few words not laden with venom, one night where she was not entirely awful, and I presented my back for her to stab.
For a moment, I seriously consider taking her offer and leaving. Can the Lion family afford to have a princess who can’t last a week without being betrayed? And no matter what comes next on that tape, what I remember is damning enough: Nic and I, on a bed together, getting way too close for comfort.
Even if I’m luckier than I deserve and that’s the worst of it, will Damon be able to ever trust me again? By distracting Nic, I could have put Damon in serious danger. That’s not something I can easily forgive myself for.
So what if I left? I close my eyes as my heart tightens. Damon would go on. He would be free to find someone noble to marry. His bride should be someone who understands how to navigate court politics, how to run a country, which of the fifteen forks to use at dinner. Someone who’s not quite so good at picking locks. Someone who would never betray him.
What if I’m not the one for him?
Who is then, Natalia? Though she’s long gone, I glare in the direction of Fief Street. She may have noble blood, but she’s no prize. The exterior may be gorgeous, but the inside is pure poison. Of course Damon would never marry her. Right? I sigh. I’m sure his father would love that match. The daughter of a duke makes a better bride than a common thief.
Leaning against a pillar, I slide down to the cold marble floor. Natalia is no better than me. Without her elaborate scheme to get Nic and me alone, I wouldn’t even be in this position. She couldn’t compete with me openly for Damon’s affections, so she’s trying to fight me from the shadows. I guess I need to drag her into the light.
Shit. I have to steal that cursed tape, don’t I? I think I’ve officially run out of other options.
A lilting whistle reaches my ears. It takes me a moment to find the source. Nic stands at the corner of the palace, only half his face visible. When I meet his eye, he slides out of view.
I fly down the steps and around the palace, almost bumping into him.
He glares. “Stay at a distance. There’s a hedge maze at the center of the gardens. Meet me there.”
He’s right, of course. As I’ve just learned, there�
��s always someone watching or listening in the palace. I try not to watch him as he ambles away. Giving him as much of a head start as I can stand, I pick my own path to the maze.
None of the gardeners are out in the heat of the day. There’s no point, as water would evaporate instantly. I’m glad for the quiet, and the lack of an audience. I’m too anxious to put on much of a performance. I stop to smell some of Damon’s late mother’s roses, but it’s more to calm myself. If Valda heard rumors, there’s no telling who else has. The dressmaker alone could have told half the staff by now. I’m sure there are at least a few people working at the palace who would gladly take any odd sighting back to the king. That’s just what I need.
Nic has been swallowed by the maze. I approach it, suddenly wary. What if a monster lurks within? Like a minotaur, or Marc. Or, worst of all, maybe Nic and me. If we really did betray Damon … well, he deserves more than a monster for a bride.
Squaring my shoulders, I step into the hedges. I’ll face the monster, even if it turns out to be me.
I can’t see a thing through the thick leaves. Venturing deeper into the greenery, I try to ignore the prickling claustrophobia that gnaws at me. There’s nothing but green around me, drowning me. The sky is far above, unreachable. The exit has vanished from sight, and now there’s nothing but the maze. I see why Nic chose this place. No one would come here willingly.
My heart starts to pound. Nic is in here somewhere, isn’t he? I don’t want to be lost in the crushing green.
I wend my way through the twists and turns, the forking paths. Letting out a long breath, I try not to panic. I’ve heard about this maze. All paths lead to the center. The only hard part is getting out.
Turning a corner, I stumble into a circular clearing. Nic stands there, arms folded. Is he too big, or is the clearing too small? I wish he weren’t this close. Of course, that’s probably what he was after, wasn’t it? A place where we could speak without being disturbed. My thoughts are in a jumble. One night together in a hotel room, and now we’re sneaking around the palace together. I want to fix things, but are we just making them worse?
