The Piano Girl - Part Two (Counterfeit Princess Series)

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  He took Dory’s hand to see if she would awaken. Her eyes opened, and she stared at him with dark, dull eyes. A faint smile ebbed at the corners of her mouth. “You’re here.”

  He nodded, too emotional to speak. “Knot knew you were in trouble.”

  “An angel,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

  Did she mean Knot was an angel or . . . He brushed her hair away from her clammy face.

  “She saw an angel,” Needa whispered. “I can’t see him.”

  Either she was delusional or she was near death.

  ΦΦΦ

  Roger joined them. He’d sanitized his medical tools in the fire and returned them to his bag.

  “Dory.” Wron studied her dark eyes. “Roger’s going to get the bullet out. It will be painful.” He turned to his guard. “Do we have whiskey?”

  Roger shook his head. “Brandy.”

  Wron held the flask to Dory’s lips. She didn’t like it and turned away. “You must,” he said firmly, and was both surprised and concerned when she obeyed.

  “What can I do?” Needa held on to the neck of Wron’s shirt.

  “Pray,” Roger said. “Prince Wron, hold down her arms. Needa, pray.”

  Clutching the back of Wron’s shirt, Needa peered over his shoulder. He gripped Dory’s shoulders to keep her from thrashing while Roger worked with precision. Dory moaned. Her eyes looked like dark agates as she stared at the rock overhang. The horrific pain of extracting the bullet put her into shock. Finally, she stopped moaning.

  “Help her, Lord Jesus. Ease her pain,” Needa prayed. “Watch over her, Lord Jesus.”

  “Thank you, Roger. Take Needa to her husband, and ask the men to pray.”

  “Owh!” Needa howled as Roger lifted her by the back of her clothing and placed her on his shoulder.

  “Hold on and keep praying, Needa,” Roger said. “I’ll have one of the men bring up blankets.”

  Alone with Dory, Wron looked at her pale face. Her skin was now cool to the touch. A guard raced up the hillside, Cragdon delivering a blanket. The fair-haired guard hid no emotion while he stared at Dory.

  “May I stay here with you?” he asked Wron.

  “No.” Wron tried to calm the fire in his belly. “She needs to rest.”

  “And so do you. Come down and have a meal with the men.”

  “I will rest here, Cragdon. Leave us.”

  The young guard’s face paled. “I’m sorry, I did not realize.” Cragdon ambled down the shale hillside.

  Wron took Dory’s slim hand in his. “You cannot leave me. I command you, Dory, you cannot leave me.”

  “If I die . . .” He could barely hear her whisper. “Father…”

  “Don’t talk like that, Dory.” He swallowed. She couldn’t, couldn’t think like that.

  Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she returned to sleep. Hours later, her voice woke him. “Do you see him?”

  Wron looked about the cave. At the far end it was tall enough to stand in. He saw nothing. “No, Dory.”

  “Why isn’t it Felix?” She stared up at Wron with dark eyes.

  He felt her forehead and wondered if it was indeed an angel to take her home. Eyes closed, she returned to sleep. Her left hand relaxed, exposing a scrap of paper. He carefully slid it from her palm and unfolded it.

  Face Evland and find the moon; below it you’ll see a garden shed. —W.

  Placing his cheek against her forehead, he wept.

  ΦΦΦ

  Ivan brought Needa and Wron a sandwich. While he ate, the gnome sat on his shoulder.

  “Roger said that if she makes it through the night, she will live,” Needa said and patted his neck.

  Wron nodded.

  “He said we should tell her what is on our hearts in case she doesn’t.” One of Needa’s tears slid down the open collar of his shirt onto his skin.

  “When she wakes, you will go first,” he said. “Then you will visit Lehto and I will be alone with her.”

  Needa nodded.

  Dory awoke with dark, sunken eyes in a pale face and stared into Needa’s round blue ones. Needa stood in Wron’s steady hand. “There is much to live for, Dory. Lehto and I will have children, and I will name our first girl… Dory, after you.” Needa’s eyes glossed with tears. “Because of you, I returned home to Evland.”

  Dory’s eyelids fluttered before she returned to sleep.

  “I did not get to say what I need to say!” Needa squished her fists into her eyes and sobbed.

  “You can try again later. Visit Lehto.”

  Ivan brought dinner—dried venison jerky, bread, and an apple. Wron ate. He smoothed Dory’s hair away from her face; her color was now ashen. She was dying in his arms, and he had not said what he needed to say. He kissed her forehead, and her eyes slowly opened. Usually a warm hazel, her dark eyes urged his words.

  “You do not want to live.” He wanted to whisper the contents of his heart, but his future was not his own. “But, I do. My life is better with you in it. Even if we are not to be, my life is better…” Holding her, he finally slept.

  He awoke to a small bird, which twittered from the branches of the nearby alder tree. Dory stirred slightly to look at the bird and then into his eyes. A soft pink tinged her cheeks.

  “Are you in pain?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I fear that I will live.”

  “You will have a good, full life, Dory.”

  “I may have to learn to shoot left-handed.”

  “Perhaps.” He nodded. “I’m sorry, Dory… for everything. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.”

  ΦΦΦ

  Without any guards to attend him, Walter felt like the impish boy of his youth as he ambled down the dimly lit passageways to the prison. He carried a tray with a teapot full of coffee, two mugs, and a plate of Rhoda’s buttermilk cookies. Knot had always had a sweet tooth.

  When he reached the cavernous pit, the cells were empty. The treadmill was in motion. Walter set the tray upon the cot in Knot’s cell and, feeling a tad lonely in the dreary surroundings, ambled across the prison toward the treadmill stairwell.

  Four men walked the treadmill in unison. He could not see their faces, but their legs were lean, and their clothes were tattered and soiled.

  Noting his presence, Duron yelled at the men to stop. Above the roar of the river, the treadmill came to a slow stop. One by one, the haggard men shuffled off.

  He recalled Dory’s words: Your present countrymen.

  “What is it, Walter?” Knot asked as he neared him on the stairs.

  “I brought us coffee. Thought we’d finally have that talk.” They walked together toward Knot’s cell. Walter left Knot’s door open behind them and glanced over his shoulder at Duron. “Give us some privacy. Knot and I have some catching up to do.”

  Duron nodded and rolled the long key around his wrist as he stepped away.

  “Took you long enough,” Knot said.

  “What?” Walter grinned as Knot poured coffee.

  “You forgot sugar, but I can drink it this way. I said it took you long enough. It’s been three meals since we spoke. I thought that I whetted your curiosity enough that you’d return as soon as you could.”

  “My memory is not as sharp as it used to be.” Walter sighed. It felt good to finally share it with someone. “Eunice is weepy. Rhoda is understaffed, and Wron is away.”

  “You’ve come here for empathy, not information.”

  “Both. We need to find someone to help Rhoda in the kitchen.”

  “Power is a difficult position,” Knot said. “You want to employ only those whom you trust, but you find you often cannot trust anyone you employ.”

  “I trusted you . . . for many years.”

  “Yes, and I find I still cannot apologize for betraying your trust.”

  “Because you were right,” Walter said. “Had I listened to you, the war would have been shorter. Lives would have been spared.”

  “Thank you. Your apology
has almost made the last three years in this hole worthwhile.”

  “I would not consider what I said an apology.”

  “It was, Walter. The only words you left out were I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I am, Knot; I want you to know that.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Now, before we waste any more time, I want to share a theory I’ve developed.” Knot munched thoughtfully on a cookie. “Dory’s father did not die in the Giants’ Snare before Shepherd’s Field.”

  “What are you saying? Have you seen him?” Walter’s brows gathered.

  “No.” Knot shook his head. “What I’m saying is the man she was with was not her father.”

  Knot’s theories often made his brain hurt.

  “I have Dory’s stories mapped out on the wall behind me. Raised in Blue Sky. Knows French. Very accomplished. Gifted pianist. Everything’s going along smoothly until her father is killed in the Giants’ Snare three weeks before Alia’s presumed arrival.”

  “Yes, it all makes perfect sense to me,” Walter said. “You see, Dory and her father traveled ahead of the wedding party, because Dory’s father wanted to visit Evland—his homeland—before the wedding. You see… she was Blue Sky’s royal pianist, and she is to play at the wedding. And, let me tell you, the piano girl is very good.”

  “Yes, Walter, but you are missing one important insight.” Knot dunked the last cookie into his cup of coffee and took a bite. “Being a royal pianist does not make you royalty.”

  Walter scrunched his forehead and thought about this.

  “Everything about Dory is royalty,” Knot said. “Even when she had the pox. Dory, you see, is a counterfeit commoner.”

  “I knew the girl was a counterfeit.” Walter shook his head. “I knew she was not to be trusted. From the start her story was… pianist from Blue Sky arriving three weeks before the wedding, and she looked so much like… oh, what is her mother’s name?”

  “I am convinced that Dory’s true father is King Francis, and whoever the man was that she traveled with from Blue Sky was not her father, but a bodyguard,” Knot said. “Walter, they traveled as commoners.”

  “Why?” Walter shook his head.

  “The girl will unite two powerful kingdoms. People always fear the unknown. Due to the war, little has been done for peace and restoration. Your people are restless. They want change, and little has been implemented. One of the best things Francis could have done was let his daughter see it firsthand. Not from a carriage.”

  “But the danger.” Walter shook his head.

  “How can royalty understand the challenges facing their country when they’re cooped up in a castle?”

  “Wron listened too much to you as a child.”

  “Did he?” Knot grinned.

  Walter sighed and clapped his hands to his knees. “To think Francis knowingly put his daughter through such a journey.”

  “It’s Francis,” Knot whispered.

  “I know.” Walter patted his knees and rose to his feet. “The infant had a mark, you know?”

  “Yes, but only one of us needs to see it to believe.”

  Walter sighed and, pulling the cell door closed behind him, motioned for Duron.

  “The infant also had a middle name,” Knot said. “Do you remember it?”

  “Vankern. Her mother’s maiden name.” Walter grinned. Maybe his memory wasn’t half bad.

  “That is her second middle name. Do you remember her first?”

  “You know me; I’ve never been good with names. My future daughter-in-law is Alia Vankern Wells.”

  “I’m just going to have to tell you.” Knot shook his head.

  “Yes, please do.” Walter stepped aside as Duron swiveled the key in the lock.

  Knot waited until Duron was out of earshot.

  “Dory.” Knot smiled. “Alia Dory Vankern Wells.”

  Walter swallowed. She’d been such a beautiful little thing in his arms. She’d gripped his finger firmly with those long piano fingers of hers and smiled up at him. “I hope she’s okay, Knot.”

  “We need to ring the bells, Walter, and ask the citizens of Yonder to pray for the safety of their future queen.”

  “Yes, that’s what I will do.”

  Walter fumbled up the stairs. He’d get the bells tolling immediately throughout the village. The good people of Yonder needed to pray.

  ΦΦΦ

  When we reached Yonder, half the kingdom lined the streets, awaiting our arrival. Crowds four people deep and half a mile long lined the road to the castle. Our soldiers stopped their horses and waited for Wron to lead the procession.

  With one arm around my middle and one hand on the reins, Wron stopped in front of the people. “All is well; Needa found a husband and Dory is alive.”

  Leeson and Elza were in the crowd; I smiled in their direction.

  “She will live.” Wron rode another fifty feet and again told the people: “All is well; Needa found a husband and Dory is alive.”

  Men, women, and children bowed, looking up at us. My injury was cloaked in a blanket. Over and over, Prince Wron delivered this message to the good and noble citizens of Yonder, my future countrymen. After we reached the royal stables, he slid off of his horse and eased me into his arms.

  “I can walk,” I mumbled.

  “I will carry you.”

  “It’s not my legs that are injured.”

  “You are delirious. I will carry you.”

  The arguing weakened me. Wron boosted me to one knee, and felt my forehead.

  His mother and father and Rhoda waited outside the postern as he carried me toward them. Eunice began to cry. Walter stood tall and swallowed. Rhoda stared wide-eyed, biting her knuckles.

  “She is alive.” Wron carried me past them and down the wide corridor. He carried me into Rhoda’s room and laid me on my old bed. In silent vigil, everyone gathered around my bed. The blood-stained bandage was visible through the soiled cambric.

  “I am no longer dying.” I attempted a smile.

  “Eunice, send for the doctor,” Walter ordered. “Rhoda, get warm, soapy water and towels. Wron, wash up and get something to eat.”

  After Wron left the room, his father held my hand.

  ΦΦΦ

  “Dr. Orgel said you need plenty of liquids and toast.”

  For dinner, Wron delivered Rhoda’s cabbage soup and toast. He set the tray on my bedside table, and then propped pillows behind me so I could sit up. My forehead was still hot to his touch. Holding the bowl below my chin, he spoon-fed me several bites before I shook my head.

  Exhausted, I lay back against the pillow. “Rhoda’s soup does not make me want to live.”

  He smiled and leaned toward my good shoulder. “Tell me why you want to live. Tell me, Dory, the many reasons you have to live.”

  Painful memories were behind my lids. I peered at Wron. “Why wasn’t the angel Felix?” I murmured.

  He shook his head. “Who is Felix?”

  In my delirium, I tried to rid my mouth of the cabbage soup taste.

  “Look at me, Dory. Why do you want to live?”

  “I watched the road for you.” I smiled faintly. “I hoped you would come for me. And you did.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “You must get well.” He smoothed my hair away from my face and waited until my eyes closed before he sent a guard to get Dr. Orgel.

  ΦΦΦ

  Throughout the kingdom, prayer replaced music and song. Three days after my return, Dr. Orgel told me: “You are going to live. You need a bath. You need to start eating real food, and you need to start walking before your muscles soften. Dory, did you hear me?”

  “Yes. About my shoulder, how do I strengthen it?” I asked.

  “After you take a bath, eat, and walk, you may slowly begin to move it. It will improve, but it will take time.”

  Rhoda and Needa helped me bathe. All my plain clothes were dirty, and I was tired of them anyway, so I wore one of my nice gowns—a light blue velvet—from Feli
x’s saddlebag. After drying my hair by the fire, I sat down in a goatskin chair across from Eunice.

  “You’re too pale, but you are lovely, Dory. Where did you ever find that dress?” She yanked on her lavender-colored ball of yarn.

  “All my other clothes are filthy, Your Highness.”

  “Yes, but what you have on is quite regal.”

  I did not know what to say; so, instead, I walked from the fireplace to the piano and sat down. My right arm was in a sling. Otherwise, I probably would have pushed it too much in my desire to please Eunice. With my left hand, I moved between bass and treble clefs and played “The Ballad of Blue Sky.” Any day my countrymen would be here. After the travels my father had mapped out for me, it was hard to imagine what he’d planned for himself. I prayed for safe travels.

  “It is the loveliest music we’ve heard since you left. We had a one-armed harpist play in your absence, but her music did not move me like yours.”

  “She was not one-armed,” Wron corrected her as he entered the Great Hall. “She held a baby in the other arm, Dory.” He smiled and took a seat across from his mother.

  “Is Needa about?” I asked loudly, my back to them.

  “No, Lehto and Needa are in the garden fighting about which tree he will build their home under.” Wron’s voice boomed with life.

  I played “Tomorrow, Today” with my left hand, and I tried to not worry about today or tomorrow.

  ΦΦΦ

  Wron stared at Dory’s hair. When he’d been alone with her in the cave, he’d wrapped one of her long auburn curls around his fingers. He sighed unknowingly.

  “Within four days, Princess Alia will be here, Wron. It is probably too late now to stop her arrival,” his mother whispered. “Roger told your father of talk within our kingdom that the people want Dory to be their future queen. They have heard of all that she did. And word among the soldiers is that while you were in Evland, you behaved like a man in love.”

  His chest tightened. “I feared her dying.”

  “Even Roger, who knows you well, told your father that you behaved like a man in love.”