by Laura Burton
There’s something about sitting with a friendly person and exchanging stories over a game of chess that just feels good for the soul. I learn that the old man’s name is Harold, and he was a former chess champion. At least, that was his title at the last senior home he stayed in.
We banter back and forth a little as we play and all of my nerves are instantaneously soothed. There we go, I just found my antidote. All I have to do is kidnap Harold and his chessboard, bring him to the palace and whenever I get freaked out, I’ll suggest a game.
“I used to play chess with my grandpa,” I say, scanning the pieces and thinking about my next move.
“Well, how about that. I did not picture King Bernard to play chess. But then again, he was an excellent leader. I fought in his battalion, you know,” Harold leans forward to peer over his spectacles at me and I sit up a little straighter, putting on my best impression of a knowing smile.
Battalion? I have so many questions. But I suppose I should know all about grandpa Bernard’s battalion. Grandpa Bernard is most certainly not the person I was thinking about though. I must do better at not blabbing about my own life to people.
“Thank you for your service,” I say humbly. The old man places a hand over his heart. “It was an honor to serve my King and country.”
After our game of chess, the PR manager urges me to move on and speak to other residents. A lovely lady, who tells me her name is Joy, is right in the middle of describing how to make the best shortbread when a commotion to our left stops our conversation. Joy and I watch as Cristiano approaches a very frail looking lady sitting in the corner of the room.
The senior home manager scurries alongside him, waving his hands.
“Excuse me, Your Royal Highness, but Eileen is deaf,” he says, his steady voice laced with panic. But Cristiano can either not hear him, or is simply choosing to ignore the man. Instead, he kneels in front of the lady, who is so short, her feet rest on a little footstool.
Undeterred by the staff member, Cristiano gives a polite nod, then smiles broadly at the lady.
“Hello, my name is Cristiano, what is yours?” he says, while moving his hands. There’s a sudden wave of delighted gasps, and the camera crew dash over to get a clear shot of Prince Cristiano signing to the lady.
She signs back, and the two of them continue their conversation in their own little world, not paying attention to the fact that everyone is staring.
When they’re done, Cristiano places his hand on the lady’s, giving her the kindest smile, and it floods my whole body with warmth.
After a quiet dinner, and no sign of the King and Queen, Cristiano and I walk arm in arm in the garden, with Teddy trotting behind us.
We’re somewhat alone; only a pair of royal guards stand within our vicinity. Being chaperoned constantly is annoying, and I wish we could just sit somewhere private and have a frank conversation.
Then I catch a glimpse of the white marble water fountain and steer Cristiano in that direction. I glance back, watching the guards slowly patrolling the path. As we sit on the edge of the fountain together, I look up at the gleaming palace windows overlooking us. I don’t know about Prim feeling like a bird trapped in a cage. Now that I’ve experienced it, it feels more like being in a fishbowl with people watching from all directions.
I swallow hard and rest my gaze on Cristiano as he tickles the backs of Teddy’s ears.
“I didn’t know you know sign language,” I say, finally breaking the silence. Cristiano looks at me with mild surprise.
“Everyone in Rossini knows how to sign. My uncle is deaf, and my father witnessed the challenges he faces on a daily basis. So he made a decree that all children must learn to use sign language at school.”
“I think that’s wonderful,” I say, thoughtfully. “All countries should do that.”
“Yes. They should. It’s important for the deaf community to be included.”
I’m struck by how passionately Cristiano speaks on the topic as he talks at length about his hopes to encourage countries to be more inclusive of people with disabilities. I wonder what other brilliant ideas are swimming around in that beautiful head of his?
We both fall into a comfortable silence, listening to the birds hawking in the billowing trees. I close my eyes and can just make out the sound of the ocean.
“Primrose…”
I open my eyes and turn to look at Cristiano, blinking out the sunspots in my eyes. I’m surprised at the seriousness of his tone. “Yes?”
Cristiano clears his throat and glances behind me, probably checking to see if the guards have caught up with us. I’m guessing they haven’t, because his shoulders relax as he looks at me again.
“I know I said I was going through with this wedding because it’s my duty,” he says, in a deep rumbling murmur. I lean in close so I don’t miss a word.
“But I need you to know that after spending more time with you, I find myself becoming quite undone.”
My gaze flickers downward. “Undone, eh?”
He follows my line of sight at his pants and blushes. “No, I don’t mean…” He breaks off with a laugh and drags a hand over his face. I grin back at him, pleased to see him squirm.
“I’m only joking, I know what you mean,” I confess, giving him a playful nudge. We share a laugh, then Cristiano pecks me on the cheek and rises to his feet, dusting off his pant legs. He paces on the spot for a few moments, looking deep in thought, meanwhile Teddy and I sit and watch him in silence.
The pair of guards walk by and Cristiano shoots them a look as they round the corner and disappear. Then he falls to his knees and grasps my hands like a man about to offer up his darkest secret.
“I want you to know; this is no longer a matter of duty to my country. It is now a duty to my heart. I am yours, my sweet Violet. For as long as I breathe, I vow to love and serve you.”
Cristiano’s eyes sparkle at me, and my chest tightens as he grips my clammy hands. With the heat of the afternoon sun beating down on my face, and my own conscience prodding my insides, I suddenly find it impossible to breathe.
I can’t do this anymore.
I can’t lie. Not to him.
Cristiano loves me.
Well, he loves Prim. I’m the villain in this story.
I don’t deserve happiness.
My tongue swells up and flops around in my mouth like an eel as I wrestle with my thoughts.
But then my courage takes over and my mind is set.
“Cristiano, I have to be honest with you…”
My heart hammers in my chest and my hands begin to tremble. If only we could have this conversation over a game of chess. It would be so much easier. Cristiano picks up on my nerves, and softly caresses my cheek. “You can tell me anything, my princess.”
His kindness is going to be the end of me, I swear. I can’t bear to see him look at me with such adoration. To him, it’s like I’m the most precious jewel on Earth, and there’s nothing I can do to change his mind.
But before I can speak, the guards return and one of them coughs. It’s not a weak cough, like he’s got a tickle in his throat. It’s a deep, official cough. Cristiano and I turn in unison to look at him.
“His Royal Highness King Francis and Her Majesty Queen Catherine of Rossini await you at the palace.”
Cristiano and I exchange identical looks of surprise and my insides turn to jelly. “Your parents are here?”
Chapter 16
Cristiano kisses his mother on both cheeks before shaking hands with his father. “Mother, Father. May I please introduce Primrose…” I do my best to curtsey without wobbling over. The last thing I need is to fall flat on my face and make a fool of myself now.
The King and Queen of Rossini look far more regal than my biological parents. Queen Catherine has rich black hair tied up in an elaborate braid atop her head, and a line of diamonds draped across her forehead like a string of tiny, sparkly bunting.
Her dress reaches the floor and drapes over
her slim form like a waterfall. She reaches for me, her jeweled fingers wiggling, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.
There was nothing in Prim’s folder about meeting other royalty. Do I kiss her on the cheek like Cristiano? No. He’s her son. I’m just a… Well, I don’t know what I am exactly, but kissing the Queen on the cheek feels totally wrong.
Left with no other choice, I force my brain to scan all of the movies I’ve ever seen where this situation has cropped up, and I go on autopilot. I take her fingertips and I kiss her rings with a ridiculously loud “mwah.”
When I let go and look up, Cristiano and his parents are staring at me with bulging eyes. I realize then, with horror, that perhaps kissing her rings wasn’t the right call after all.
Now I wish I had fallen over mid-curtsey. At least I could have blamed it on swooning again and avoided all of this awkwardness.
“What was that?” Cristiano mouths to me. He doesn’t even need to sign it. I can see the question written all over his face. Even the King looks bewildered. The Queen, however, recovers quite spectacularly and holds her hands in front of her.
“It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Primrose. It is so kind of your parents to offer their hospitality.”
I almost snort. Almost. But thankfully, I hold it in.
The word hospitality sounds odd coming out of a Queen’s mouth. I bob down a little despite the urge to laugh, and open my mouth to say… something. Anything. But unfortunately my brain is still replaying the time I kissed the Queen’s rings. Each time it repeats, my kiss sounds more and more cartoon-like.
A door opens and my biological parents, the King and Queen of Andonna, waltz into the room. I have never been so relieved to be interrupted.
“Catherine! Are you quite well? How lovely to see you.”
The Queen, my birth mom, draws Cristiano’s mother into her arms and the two of them kiss each other on each cheek. As the Kings and Queens exchange greetings, I try to take Cristiano’s hand, but he moves away the moment my fingers brush against his. He shoots me an apologetic look, then joins in the conversation.
“The priest will be joining us for supper…”
I snort. For real this time. And all eyes swivel to me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “It’s just... We’ve got two Kings and Queens... Now a priest. Soon we’ll be able to make a human chessboard.”
An abrupt laugh in the corner alerts me to one of the servants standing by the door. She throws a hand to her mouth and looks at me in horror.
I feel you, girl.
What the heck did I just say? My brain has been so busy playing the highlights of my life blooper reel, it’s forgotten to apply my filter.
There’s a tense silence as everyone gives me an odd look. But then the Queen smiles and gestures for Cristiano’s parents to follow the King out of the room. Everyone files out and I bid to follow, but the Queen holds my arm.
“I have a gift for you, Primrose,” she says softly, and my heart flutters.
She might think I’m Primrose, but the thrill of getting my very first gift from my birth mom is off the charts.
She takes me to her room and disappears in the closet for a few moments. I try to keep my expression neutral as I take in my surroundings. The large four-poster bed looks like it’s made out of gold. Or marble, maybe? Whatever it is, it’s shiny and super grand.
All manner of fancy furniture and elegant paintings beg my attention, but I resist and keep them in my peripheral vision as the Queen returns with a long white dress in her arms.
“The seamstress has finished working on your wedding dress,” she says. “I wanted to be the one to show you.” Her face is glowing with pride, and for a moment, she looks just like Prim... Like me, I suppose. It’s a surreal moment, and not just because my biological mother is giving me my twin sister’s wedding dress.
The gown is quite simple for a royal wedding dress. The bodice has a lace overlay, and the skirt falls straight. I pick up the skirt and the material is like melted butter under my thumbs.
“It’s perfect,” I say, breathless.
The Queen nods, then takes the dress away, draping it carefully on the bed. “I would like to spend some time together tomorrow,” she begins, still looking at the gown. The way she stands with her back so perfectly straight amazes me. Even as she keeps her gaze downward, she looks like a beautiful swan.
“I have arranged for your father to take Cristiano and his parents shooting. I thought we could go to the art gallery. It’s been so long since we’ve spent time together.”
I clasp my hands behind my back and squeeze my fingers so tight, it hurts.
“I would love that,” I say, trying to sound pleased. My time at the palace is drawing to an end. I had written off the possibility of getting to know my birth parents. Now my mother wants to spend some quality time together.
We join the others in the music room, where Cristiano sits at the baby grand piano playing a classical piece by Mozart.
As he plays, everyone converses around me, and I sit perched on the edge of a chair with my eyes glazed over and my imagination running wild.
I keep thinking up crazy scenarios where Cristiano and I run away together and elope. Then we’d meet my parents in Rome, and laugh over the ridiculous mistakes I’ve made since coming to the palace.
Our conversation by the fountain comes back to me in perfect high definition. Cristiano loves me.
He looks up from the sheet music and our eyes meet. Somehow, he manages to continue the song without looking at the keys, or at the papers sitting in front of him. Under his gaze, the stirring music unravels something inside of me and all of my body starts to melt.
I can’t help it. Pretense aside, I know the one simple truth.
I love him too. But the question is, how can we ever be together?
Chapter 17
“Prim. I’m in trouble,” I say glumly. I’m back in my bed with Teddy snuggled up to me. My glowing phone is the only source of light in the dark room, and I bite my lip waiting for Prim’s reply.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve failed you and I’m a terrible person.” The words cut the back of my throat as I force them out.
“Oh, don’t say that. Whatever it is, I’m sure we can work this out. I’m leaving tomorrow night…”
“No, Prim. I’m a bad princess, and I kissed Cristiano.” I shut my eyes and brace myself for Prim’s reaction.
She gasps. “You kissed…?”
“Actually, seeing as I’m making a confession, I kissed him twice,” I confess, my hands trembling. Then I go into full ramble mode. “Well, he kissed me loads of times. I mean, always on the cheek, you know? But he’s so affectionate and well… It sort of just happened. And then I guess I initiated the second kiss in the cleaning closet––”
“Wait. What?” Prim cuts in. “You were kissing in a closet?”
“I’m so sorry.” My face scrunches up of its own accord as my conscience tugs on my heart. “Prim. I’m sorry. I’ve been so foolish. I was just pretending to be you, but he’s been so charming and then I fell for him.”
My eyes prickle and a lump forms in my throat. I can’t speak anymore.
“This… is a lot to take in. I don’t know what to say,” Prim says. Her voice is hollow. I roll over and wipe my eyes with a sniff. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I just needed you to know.”
“I appreciate your honesty, Violet,” Prim whispers. “I’ll be back tomorrow night. Just try and hang in there.”
“You too,” I whisper back. “I promise from now on, I’ll keep my distance. He’s your prince.”
“Oh, Violet. I wish things were different. I told you, this union was never about love,” Prim says, her voice breaking with emotion. “I’m so sorry I put you in this situation.”
I end the call feeling equally relieved and crushed. At the end of all of this, at least, I can keep Prim as my sister. But seeing her marry Cristiano and have
his baby will crush my heart.
Overcome, I bury my face in the plush pillows and let out a scream.
After breakfast, I hurry to my room to look through Prim’s folder. I flick through quickly and stop on the picture of my birth mom. The image makes my heart sink. I wish I could talk to her properly. As Violet, not Prim.
Today, I’m wearing a soft pair of cotton pants with a silk blouse. The stylists pin my hair up into a loose bun. My palms are sweating, and I don’t know how to make them stop.
According to Prim’s folder, the art gallery holds all of her artwork. I just hope the Queen does not ask me to paint anything, otherwise it’ll be a dead giveaway that I’m not Prim.
I’m so bad at painting; my dad paid for decorators to come in and fix my work after I painted the living room. I’d have been offended, but I used a cheap brush that shed bristles, so there were several hairs simply stuck to the walls. I also forgot to tape the edges of the baseboards, so it all looked pretty bad. I couldn’t blame him.
I’m one of those people who will never sign up for a talent show. I’m an average singer. I can just about play chopsticks on the piano and I’m pretty sure I have two left feet. Everything about me is... Mediocre. I got average grades at school, so I can’t even fall back on a genius mind.
The corners of my eyes sting as I chew my lip and walk out into the garden to one of the smaller buildings. How can I spend time alone with my birth mom and convince her that I’m Prim?
What if she realizes the truth, and is bitterly disappointed by how clumsy and ordinary I turned out to be? I don’t know if I can handle that type of rejection.
It’s a funny thing. I’m in my late twenties, a fully-fledged adult. But meeting with my birth mom shoots me right back to my childhood.
My insides tangle and knot themselves as I yank open the wooden door. The echo of my sandals clip clopping along the stone floors has my heart racing. I round the corner and find the Queen sitting beside one of the tall windows. Her hair is twisted up into a loose knot at the back of her head. She’s in a pair of light cotton pants and an oversized shirt.
