Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales Book 3)

by Aya Ling

  Kat

  I sweep over the corridor in a new dress, a mask fitted over my face. After subduing the maid and ordering her to unlock and remove the bolts on the door, I set out dressing up for the ball. Jérôme would recognize me in the fairy dress. So I find a mask that covers most of my face, leaving just my eyes and mouth visible. I don a wig as well—fortunately it seems that wigs are fashionable, and I’m able to find a good-sized wig that can conceal my auburn hair under a mountain of raven black tresses. I also apply a load of makeup—so much that I could be performing on stage. The mask can conceal my face, but there might be an occasion I have to take it off, so it’s imperative I look as little like myself as possible. Using what cosmetics are available on the table, I draw and paint until I resemble a clown.

  I’m grateful that the former mistress of Jérôme had left so much stuff in this room I can use. Otherwise, I don’t know how I can sneak in the ball.

  It takes me a long time getting dressed up, as there is no handmaid to help me, and also because I need to find a dress my size and relatively easy to get into. Something without too much lace in the back. I end up wearing a shocking purple-and-pink gown with a row of buttons rather than a maze of laces. Hopefully, with the more liberal attitude towards fashion and sexual behavior here in Moryn, I won’t be subjected to much scrutiny. I also bring a fan. With the double protection from the fan and mask, I’m reasonably sure that no one will recognize me.

  When I take a final look in the mirror, I am startled at the woman in my reflection. She looks so sophisticated, so ornamented, and so unlike me. The dress is low-necked for Athelian standards; the swell of my breasts is visible, but I don’t need to look like an Athelian tonight. I could pass off as a high-class courtesan. Or an extra in Moulin Rouge. A burlesque dancer wearing a crinoline.

  Will Edward recognize me? But there’s no time to re-do my makeup or change into another gown. There’s the distant sound of music drifting from where the ball must be held.

  “Well,” I tell myself. “Here’s to good luck.”

  My best hope is to get Edward’s attention. It’s hard enough being a commoner in Moryn, but doubly difficult when I might be recognized as the girl who tried to impersonate Athelia’s princess. Only Edward, who is aware of my true identity, can get me out of here.

  * * *

  When I left Jérôme’s room, I had to do the same as what he did to me—I lock the servant in the bedroom, with a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth so she couldn’t yell. I feel sorry for doing this to her, especially since Jérôme would be enraged when he comes back, but I have to get out.

  “Pardon me, but I’m afraid I have no idea where I am.” I hail a servant. “Would you be so kind to show me the way to the masque?”

  My accent, carefully engineered to resemble an Athelian noble lady, poses little problem. Soon I am guided to the ballroom. Thankfully, the servant doesn’t recognize me. Actually, I’d bet neither Mom nor Paige would be able to recognize me either.

  But the difficulties have just begun. The ballroom, which is just as huge, if not larger, than the ballroom in the palace of Athelia, is crowded. Augustin is the type to enjoy huge parties, and there must be tons of people in here. Like, numerous foreign nobles have been invited along with the Moryns. How am I to find Edward and speak to him?

  At least it isn’t difficult to locate him. As I walk around the room, straining to catch any conversation about him, soon I hear some Moryn ladies chattering and sighing, their hands pressed to their chests. “Look at that prince from Athelia,” one sighs. “He is indeed as handsome as the papers say.”

  “And cold as well. I would much rather dance with Jérôme or the Count of Mont Blanc. That prince of Athelia gives me the chills.”

  “Yes, but dancing in his arms is reward enough. Oh, I do envy Simone. What a beautiful picture they are!”

  I stand on tiptoe. Sure enough, Edward is dancing with Simone in the center of the room. I remember that it is custom that couples do not dance together in a big event. Like, the king had escorted Simone and Augustin the queen when they came for the State Visit. And I have to admit that Edward and Simone look gorgeous together. Even through the mask, I can recognize his dark hair and the noble manner he carries himself, and even the firmness as he presses his lips together. I recognize the way he dances, with the grace of a cat. I wish it was I in my husband’s arms.

  Since there are so many people in the ballroom, it is easy to stay anonymous. A few nobles ask me to dance, and although I am in no mood for it, it might offend someone if I keep rejecting them. So I try my best, and to my surprise, I am brought only several yards away from Edward. He is talking to some Moryn noble about urban planning. Jérôme is nearby. My mind racing, I wonder how to attract Edward’s attention. If I speak, he will recognize my voice, but so will Augustin and Jérôme. And Katriona Bradshaw, dancing with some Moryn aristocrat, isn’t that far away either.

  My hand goes to the wedding ring Edward gave me, concealed in my dress. As stealthily as I can, I make my way past Edward—the closest I can get to him anyway. I hold up the ring when I think he glances in my direction. He freezes, and I know he at least recognizes the ring, if not me. When the dance is over, I decline another request to dance, feigning weariness, and head to a corner where a buffet table is. If I were to talk to him, we must be far away from Jérôme and Katriona.

  Some giggles from the girls signify that he has approached me.

  “Lady.” His voice is low. He hasn’t recognized me—I’m hideous in this gaudy dress and mask. “How did you obtain that ring?”

  I pitch my voice low. “The prince of Athelia put it on my finger.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  This time I look at him, straight into his golden-brown eyes. My heart is pounding so hard, it feels like it’s going to burst through my chest.

  “The first time was when we married at St. James Cathedral. The second time was when we came back from our honeymoon in Enrilth.”

  He inhales sharply; I resist the urge to throw my arms around him.

  “Edward,” I whisper. A tear rolls down my face, leaking under the mask. “It’s me, Kat. I’ve come back.”

  He stares at me, as if he’s trying to discern my real features under the mask, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Will you favor me with a dance, lady?”

  I curtsy and take his hand. When our hands meet, he glances at me quickly. He might not recognize my face, but he knows the shape of my hand, the texture of my skin, and the way we used to hold hands.

  As we head to the dance floor, a few Moryn ladies are whispering behind their fans. Perhaps I shouldn’t have accepted this dance, but it’s too late now. And rational concerns aside, I miss his touch. Now that we’re holding hands, I wish we could do more. I want to pull his head down to mine, kiss him until both of us are out of breath, and make love until light dawns in the sky.

  Edward’s hand is trembling; I don’t even have to look at him to know he’s experiencing an emotional turmoil inside. As the orchestra strikes up a tune and we face each other, his eyes search my face, hungrily, as though trying to see through the mask. He stares at my eyes, and finally he speaks.

  “It is you.”

  He has recognized me, despite the mask, the heavy makeup, the gaudy fashion.

  “Kat.” I could have wept at the disbelief and longing in his voice. “This isn’t a dream, is it? Have the goblins taken pity on us and conjured an image of you to comfort me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, resisting the urge to kiss him in front of everyone. “The fairies discovered a way to help me. They transformed the physiology of my body so I can now survive in your world.”

  “The fairies?”

  “Yes.” In a whisper, I tell him about Lady Gregory and Lysander. Luckily he is able to read my lips when the music drowns out my tone. His eyes widen when I mention the transformation spell that made Lady Gregory and Lysander more similar in age, and when I finish, his grip
on my waist is so hard that it's painful. This is the Edward I know.

  “So they did succeed and made it possible for you to exist in our world.” Something glistens in his eye; he blinks and regains his composure. As touched as I am, I’m relieved that he didn’t break down in the middle of the dance floor. “But how did you get here? How did you know I was in Moryn? How did you find your way to the palace? Did you have an invitation?”

  The song is drawing to an end. “I’ll explain later, but I need your help. Jérôme found me and I’m supposed to be confined in his room.”

  He looks surprised, but as we have reached the last notes of the song, he doesn’t ask for an explanation.

  “Did he hurt you?” His eyes harden, and he looks like he’s going to spit fire.

  “No. Truly, Edward. There wasn’t enough time.”

  “Thank heavens.” His hand lingers on my elbow; his gaze remains fixed on my face. I swallow hard. His love for me has transcended this hideous mask I’m wearing. “Don’t leave the ballroom. I’ll send someone to look for you.”

  I wonder how he is going to achieve it. But at least I've succeeded in finding Edward. Even if Jérôme finds me now, I don’t mind. Just the happiness that washes over Edward’s face is enough. Even if I’m going to be branded a witch, a traitor, or a seductress, I don’t care.

  I dance a few songs with other people. A Moryn noble tries to ask me for a private stroll in the garden; I decline as politely as I can. Fortunately, no one asks who I am. They seem contented to assume I’m an Athelian noblewoman, and they ask questions about Athelian culture, famous sightseeing spots, and the royal family—questions I’m able to answer without difficulty. I’m so thankful that my memories are intact this time.

  And then, someone seizes my arm. I squeak and wrench my arm away. Jérôme must have found me.

  “Lady Katherine. Would you do me the honor of being my partner in the next dance?”

  Oh my God, I’m so relieved. I thought it would be Jérôme, but it’s Henry, formally dressed in a black suit and tie.

  “The honor is all mine, Your Grace,” I reply, the princess training in me coming out. At the same time, I look around for Edward, but he is already occupied with some other noble lady. But I’m pretty sure he sent Henry here. Besides, he called me Katherine. He knows I’m not Katriona Bradshaw.

  Henry takes my hand and off we go.

  “How did you come back?” Henry asks, twirling me around. To be honest, he isn’t a good dancer as Edward is, who manages to keep a running conversation without missing a beat. His movements are stiff, and sometimes he makes mistakes. Maybe Henry’s athletic ability is limited to cricket only, or Edward was forced to train more extensively.

  “My disease,” I say in a low voice. “It was cured.”

  “Good.” He keeps a firm grip on my arm. “I am very glad to hear that, Lady Katherine.”

  “Did Elle come?”

  “She was not invited. And frankly speaking, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t come to Moryn for my research project with Dr. Durant.”

  “Oh.” I almost forgot. Henry was a fan of Dr. Durant, the Moryn emperor’s head physician, and wanted to do research with him. But the duchess disapproved of Henry undertaking something that is at odds with his position as a duke, and it wasn’t until Elle went to Somerset that the duchess eventually consented.

  The song reaches the end. When he bows and I curtsy, that should be the cue for us to separate, but instead of walking off, he glances over his head, and nods. I bet he's signaling to Edward.

  “Lady Katherine, it has been most pleasant dancing with you.” Henry’s hand stays on my arm. “However, I would hate to be deprived of your company so soon. Would you mind accompanying me for a stroll outside? I would so dearly love to see your face under that mask.”

  If I didn’t know there must be a motive for this invitation, I would have rolled my eyes and asked who is he and what did he do to the Henry I knew.

  “Certainly, my lord.” I flutter my eyelashes in an attempt to look flattered, though it can’t be effective when conveyed through the mask. “Your wish is my command.”

  We attract little attention as we head outside. Were Edward accompanying me, the ladies would definitely notice, as he is the crown prince, but Henry is regarded as any other aristocrat in the masque. Besides, several couples are slipping away from the dance floor as well.

  Outside, the palace gardens are magnificent in a kaleidoscope way—it seems that the emperor has tried to cram every tree and bush and shrubbery he could find into every nook and cranny of the garden. I wonder what Edward’s opinion is of this garden, as Henry leads me past a clump of red roses as large as saucers. The aesthetic style of the garden is similar to the decor of the palace, and probably reflective of Moryn culture as well—bold, flashy, dazzling.

  Giggles can be heard now and then, and I cringe at the sight of unabashed, passionate couples in various places of the garden. Henry and I even had to circle past a couple who are making out in the middle of the path. It wouldn’t be so bad if I were here with Edward, but with Henry, whom I always see as a good, reliable friend, it’s so awkward.

  After what seems like an eternity, we reach a courtyard where numerous carriages are crowded.

  “Oy!” A Moryn man stumbles past, held up by a woman whose makeup is smudged. “Can’t wait to take this one home, eh? Why not join us for a party—the more the merrier!”

  “Thank you for the offer, but no.” Henry’s expression is tight and indifferent.

  “You’re from Athelia!” The man slaps Henry’s back. “No wonder you’re so uptight. Let me do you a favor, you don’t know what’s a real carnal delight until you…”

  “Excuse me, but I really must decline.” Henry finds a carriage with a driver and hustles me in. “Have a good night.”

  He pulls the curtains up, hiding us from outsiders, and shouts for the driver to get going. As the carriage moves away from the courtyard, the man’s yells die away. I sink in my seat, feeling so tired that I could fall asleep in the carriage. I have escaped Jérôme’s clutches. And what’s more important, Edward knows I’ve come back.

  15

  Kat

  Henry’s apartment is near the Moryn Royal Institute. He chose it especially so he could go to the Royal Institute every day on foot. Like how his townhouse is near the university in Athelia. Convenience over comfort.

  “Why did you rent a flat instead of a house?” I ask. Henry is more down-to-earth compared to his peers, but still, I’d expect him to be used to living in a house with servants.

  “Half of the houses near the Institute are owned by a Moryn count, while the other half are owned by the Institute’s faculty,” he says as he guides me up the stairs. “I know few people in Moryn, so there’s no need to entertain guests in a party. I have no need for servants; meals are provided at the Institute and I have a cleaning woman over twice a week. Besides, it is only going to be a year. Less, if the project goes well.”

  “No invitations from Moryn aristocrats?” I ask. “If they know you are Edward’s cousin and a duke from Athelia, I’m sure they’d love to make your acquaintance.”

  “It’d be hard to complete my research if I lived like a normal Moryn aristocrat.” Henry shrugs. “I would also not want Elle to have any cause for concern. You have seen how…carefree the Moryns are with their affections.”

  Oh yeah. Not that I have anything against the Moryn culture, but nevertheless I’m glad it was Athelia I was transported to. If I had ended up as Augustin or Jérôme’s bride…

  Urgh. I feel sick just thinking about Jérôme. Augustin isn’t that bad, and I think Simone is glad to marry him, but I remember the stories of the Moryn people who are unhappy with his autocratic rule. Edward is way, way better than any man I’ve met, whether it may be in Athelia or Moryn. I don’t know how I’d had the luck to attract him.

  The flat is spacious and cozy, and decorated in a style similar to Edward’s house in Enrilth. How
ever, since there is only one bed, Henry insists that he sleeps on the sofa in the sitting room.

  “It’s your place,” I protest. “I can’t take the bed. That sofa looks big enough, and if you loan me some blankets I shall be quite comfortable.”

  “Edward will never forgive me if I let you sleep there,” Henry returns, and I sense there’s no point arguing with him.

  Despite a long stressful day, I lie awake for a while, anxiety gnawing on my mind. What will Jérôme say when he returns and finds that I’m gone? Suppose he discovers that Henry and I have disappeared from the masque? Unlike Edward, Henry is going to stay here for one year. Will Jérôme make life hell for Henry?

  And where can I go when I return to Athelia? It’s unlikely that I can stay at the palace. I have to find a place to live and learn how to take care of myself, without servants helping me dress or serving me meals. I don’t think I’d want for money—Edward won’t let me starve—but can I go back to pretending I am Katriona Bradshaw? Impossible. Bianca can easily prove that I’m not her sister. I’ll have to use my own name.

  Moreover, how are we going to pull Katriona Bradshaw off the throne? Mr. Davenport warned us that adultery is the only acceptable reason to grant a divorce. Katriona Bradshaw is in the most coveted position of most young ladies, and if it were me, I’d be hard-pressed to let it go either.

  My troubles are just beginning.

  * * *

  Early next morning, Henry enters the bedroom and informs me there’s a carriage waiting for me outside. I’m still wearing that horrible gown I got from Jérôme’s former mistress, since Henry doesn’t have any clothes that I can change into. Unless I could disguise myself as a man, but I don’t want to learn how to bind my breasts. My dress is all wrinkled, but there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s already a relief I’ve escaped from Jérôme.

  “Thank you for helping me.”

  “I’m only doing it because Edward asked me.” There is a pause, and his gaze hardens. “You’d better make him happy this time, Katherine Wilson. Or I’ll never forgive you.”