Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales Book 3)

by Aya Ling

  And she’s succeeding.

  27

  Kat

  I am brought to jail, escorted by the burly policeman who had jeered at me at the station. Elle has gone to get Edward for help. If Bianca has the power and influence to have the police send me to jail without conviction, then Edward can certainly get me out. I may be punished for my impersonating Katriona, but at least I won’t have to be locked up. And knowing Athelia, I’m positive that their prison conditions will be horrible.

  I’m bundled into something like a horse cart. Once I’m thrown into the cart, I lie down to avoid being seen by the people on the streets. The cart is dirty with animal droppings and stinks of body odor and sweat, but I’d take it over being seen, my hands tied behind my back and my hair unbound and a mess. If anyone recognizes me, I can’t bear the humiliation.

  Closing my eyes, I pray that Edward would arrive ASAP.

  When the cart stops, I open my eyes. There’s a commotion outside, and I wonder if we’ve been held down by a demonstration or rally. Maybe Liam has got the Union together on a protest march.

  But then there’s the sound of the back of the cart opening, and I raise my head.

  “Get off, wench,” the policeman growls. “If I need to haul you off, it won’t be pretty.”

  I try to scramble off with as much dignity as I can muster. The din around me grows louder, which makes me wonder why it’s so noisy near the jail.

  I look up, and receive a nasty shock.

  There’s a hanging noose set up outside a yellow-brick building, and scores of people are gathered under the scaffold, as though they are waiting for a theatre performance.

  “Is that a...” I swallow. “A public execution?”

  “What, you’ve never seen one before?”

  I avert my gaze, repressing an urge to throw up. While I am aware of a thing called morbid fascination, to see the Athelians clamoring to see a person hanged dead still sickens me to the core. There’s even a raised stand with well-dressed people sitting on it, and one of the ladies is fanning herself. As though she is here to attend an opera, not an execution.

  “Want to watch the hanging?” The policeman says, grinning. “That’ll roughen you up for jail.”

  A woman in rags, bound by the wrists, staggers onto the stage. The crowd roars. I swallow again and look away. “No.”

  The policeman grunts, but tugs on the chain attached to my handcuffs, leading me towards the yellow-brick building. We have to take a longer route due to the crowd. It seems worse dragged out that way, with the people shouting ‘Kill her!’ ‘Kill her!” “Make her pay!” A wild thought enters my mind—what if Edward doesn’t come in time and Bianca somehow convinces the court (assuming I’d get a trial) that my crime is serious enough to be hanged for it? I’ve read Athelian papers; I know punishment for crime is much harsher. As the crime rate in the capital had risen along with the population increase, most Athelians approve of a stricter application of law. It isn’t impossible or unrealistic to expect a death sentence.

  I shut my eyes and make myself get a grip. Ridiculous. Elle will find Edward and he’ll rescue me, that’s for sure. I did not come back to Athelia, only to be sentenced to death before I could be reunited with Edward.

  I’m not sure how much time passed before we enter the prison, and I find myself being pushed in front of a large woman who’s as tall as the policeman. There’s a frown on her face which looks like it's perpetually etched, and as she comes towards us, the jingle of keys coming from her pocket is audible.

  “What’s this?” She wrinkles her brow. “Why’re you bringing a lady in here?”

  “She’s no lady, Gemma,” the policeman says. “She tried to impersonate Princess Katriona. Heard she wanted to get her hands on a house off Longbourne Street in the princess’s name.”

  She gives a low whistle. “You don’t say! How did they find out she ain’t the real one? She looks lady enough for me.”

  “Seems that the real one came along when she was almost done. She could have gotten away with it. I saw Princess Katriona and couldn’t tell them apart. They’re as alike as peas in a pod.”

  The matron, Gemma, looks intrigued and even slightly impressed. “So what’s she got—deportation or hanging? Better not be long-term imprisonment. We’ve been getting so many, this place’ll fill up soon.”

  “She ain’t got a sentence yet,” the policeman extracts a paper and hands it to Gemma. “Got to wait till the trial.”

  “I warrant the magistrate won’t go easy on her,” Gemma snorts. “You know the woman who’s hanged right now? She was a maid who passed forgery notes for her employer. He got off, placing the blame on her.”

  I make a noise of incredulity. Gemma’s sharp ears didn’t miss me.

  “If I didn’t learn you tried to steal from the princess, I’d take you for an innocent. Things like that happen every day—you can get away with anything as long as you can pay for it.”

  The policeman seems to remember something when she utters the last sentence. He does a weird gesture with his hands—some secret code between them—and she nods.

  “Let’s get the girl to her cell first.” She fishes out a large bunch of keys from her pocket, looks over them with squinted eyes, and selects one. “Bring her along.”

  I’m led to a tiny room that doesn’t have any windows. On the way, I’ve passed a miserable sight—women of all ages huddled behind bars, most of them with sullen looks and hollow expressions. A few of them even have babies.

  “No one could afford to take care of ‘em, so they had to bring the little ones along,” Gemma says, when I pause before a woman prisoner feeding a baby in her arms, and two more lying at her feet. “Move along, we don’t have all day.”

  However horrified I am, I believe it’s worth coming here. However Edward cares about his people, it’s unlikely he’d try to visit a prison. And even if he did, Gemma mayn’t let him see the real thing. He’s a person of importance. If he reports of the ugliness of the prison, Gemma could lose her job.

  I also notice that most women prisoners are wearing shapeless gray uniforms of some coarse material. Will they also force me to strip off Elle’s expensive gown (possibly the nicest one she owns)? Another shiver runs down my spine.

  Then a hand shoves on my back and I stumble into a tiny room. It reeks of an odor I’d rather not speculate, the floor littered with rat droppings—I’ve never seen rat droppings, but I guessed it from the vanishing tail of a rodent that scurried away when we entered.

  “Is the room to your liking, Your Highness?” Gemma makes a mock bow, and I avert my eyes. “Consider yourself lucky that you get a cell to yourself. If it weren’t for Lady Elle’s generosity, I’d throw you in with the others. We ain’t got space for everyone.”

  I know I should be thankful. But still, the tiny cell makes Mary’s cottage look like a five-star hotel. The lack of windows accounts for the horrid smell. The bed looks hard, the blankets have holes, and the mattress is filthy. There’s a waste bucket that’s equally filthy. I shrink away and my back meets cold hard stone.

  Gemma ignores me; she’s probably used to prisoners looking horrified at their lot. Seizing my chain with a strength that could rival a man's, she links the end to an iron ring jutting out of the bed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you don’t escape.” She snaps the chains in place, the click of iron sounding ominous in the room. “Lady Elle paid for an upgrade, but Lady Pembroke also requested for extra surveillance. I ain’t risking my neck over a prisoner.”

  I’m reminded of my escape from Jérôme’s chamber. If Jérôme had chained me to the bed, I couldn't have escaped. I couldn't have met Edward in the masque and returned to Athelia.

  “Well then.” Gemma inspects the padlock on the door, then fixes me a stern gaze. “Don’t try anything funny, or I could have you whipped. You hear me?”

  I nod. What else can I do?

  “Have a good night, Your Highness.�
�� She giggles (got to say it’s pretty disturbing), and the door clangs shut, followed by the ominous sound of the key turning in the lock, sealing my doom. I’m plunged into darkness, except for the light filtering through the slit under the door.

  As the room is so small, my legs bump against the bed. All of a sudden, my courage fades into nothing. Like a kid who’s punished, I curl up on the bed and cry. I was a dumbass to visit Sir Langley. But I couldn’t stand by and do nothing when Katriona Bradshaw planned to hand over Princess College to her mother. I just had such rotten luck that Bianca and Katriona dropped by when I was at Spencer’s Sky-High Realty.

  And now, Bianca must have ripped up the sign-over of ownership. Katriona is still on the throne. I’ve accomplished nothing, and I’ve got myself in the worst possible situation—in jail.

  Even when I thought life couldn’t get worse, such as when I learned I couldn’t survive in Athelia, I had Edward by my side. But now, I’m all alone, helpless, and locked up.

  When is he going to come get me out?

  I wait. And wait. Until my tears have run dry, and I feel like going crazy in this windowless room, surrounded by darkness. Then finally, there’s a sound. I spring up, the chain clinking on the floor, but no one unlocks the door. Just a hand pushing a tray into the room.

  “Wait!” I cry. “What time is it? Is it already evening?”

  The person who delivers the food tray doesn’t respond. Then—“Quarter past eight. Leave the tray outside when you’re done.”

  Dang. It’s that late already? It was early afternoon when Elle and I visited Spencer’s Sky-High Realty. When she left me to seek Edward, it can’t be evening yet. Why hasn’t Edward come? Doesn’t he even know I’m in jail? Can it—I don’t even want to think of the possibility—can Katriona, or Bianca, managed to prevent Elle from finding Edward?

  I’m doomed.

  * * *

  Two days have passed since I was brought to prison, and no matter how I try to convince myself that I’m already better treated than the other prisoners, it’s hard to stay sane when you’re shut in a dark, windowless room all day. I am let out in the morning for a one-hour walk around the courtyard, but I’m not allowed to speak to other prisoners. I attract attention because of my dress, but I hear someone say, “Lunatic,” and this seems to satisfy whoever is wondering why there’s a prisoner in a fancy gown. Although by now, the gown is dirty and torn at edges. My hair is matted and filthy, my body stinks.

  I try to make myself stop wallowing in misery. Until I leave this prison, I can’t let myself succumb to insanity or sickness—well, as much as my willpower allows. I came back here for Edward. Thinking of my husband gives me incentive to survive. If Edward sees my spirit battered, or even if he loses me, it would be like sentencing him to mental death. I remember his disbelief, followed by the violent burst of joy in his eyes, when he learns that I’ve come back to him. I cannot afford to lose heart. I must get out of here alive.

  There’s a noise coming through the padlock. The key is turning! Edward has come for me!

  I spring from the bed, my heart soaring. Anything, anything, to get away from this horrible place.

  “Fifteen minutes, lady,” comes the gruff voice of Gemma.

  Lady? It feels like I’m hit over the head. Still, a visitor is better than nothing. I haven’t talked to anyone since I was locked in, apart from asking the time. At the third attempt, the person who delivers my food stops responding, possibly fed up by my questions.

  The door opens, revealing Elle. I could have hugged her, if I weren’t in such a terrible state.

  “Kat!” The tone of her voice says everything. Elle looks at me like her heart is breaking. “Oh Kat, I’m so sorry.” She turns to Gemma and glares at the matron. “I thought I had told you to treat her well.”

  Gemma shrugs. “She got a private cell and she’s fed three times a day. My pardon, lady, but the prison was built to keep people away from it, not make their lives better.”

  “Elle,” I quickly say. “Did you tell Edward about me?”

  She faces me, her expression of guilt, and my heart sinks. “I’ve tried, Kat. I went straight to the palace after you were taken, but he hasn’t returned yet.”

  Can my luck get even worse? Since when did he go away on such a long trip?

  “What about his parents? Did you talk to the king and queen?”

  “The king was at Parliament, and the queen was visiting a friend in the suburbs. However, Amelie has promised to let me know as soon as possible when Edward returns. She wanted me to bring you food.” Elle hands me a basket. A spicy aroma wafts from the cover. “She knows you like spicy food, so she had the kitchens prepare this.”

  Tears prick my eyes. It’s sweet that Amelie remembers I love spicy dishes.

  “And this is from me,” Elle says, opening a large satchel she had brought. I barely noticed it when she arrived; I was so disappointed that Edward hadn’t come for me. There is a bundle of clothes made of thick, good-quality material, a toothbrush, and even a woolen blanket.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, my heart filled. The prison bed is so freezing cold that it’s a miracle I haven’t developed a fever.

  “Time’s up,” Gemma says. “You should go, Lady Elle.”

  “I’ll be back soon.” Elle grasps my hand firmly. “I promise I’ll visit the palace every day until His Highness returns.”

  After Elle has left, I sit on the hard, wooden bed for a moment, wondering when is the next time I’ll see Elle or Edward. A pang of despair pricks me—not only because I can’t get out yet, but also how Edward must feel when he knows I’m in jail.

  A sudden movement arrests my attention; Gemma has snatched the satchel Elle brought and picked up the basket containing the dishes Amelie packed.

  “Hey!” I make a grab for the items, but the iron cuffs from my wrists prevent me from reaching her. “Those are mine!”

  “Not anymore.” Gemma inspects the contents of the satchel. “Hmph. Some decent stuff here. These will fetch a pretty penny.”

  “Lady Elle will be furious when she knows!” I do my best to appear intimidating, but Gemma lets out a cackle. “She won’t know, your trial is scheduled tomorrow. Won’t be surprised if the judges sentence you to the noose.”

  She slams the cell door, leaving me in darkness. I’ve no comfort but the lingering smell of chicken roasted in spices.

  * * *

  I had a nightmare that night.

  I’m arrayed in a gorgeous turquoise gown, my hair twisted and braided with yellow ribbons, and a diamond pendant resting in the hollow of my throat. Amelie had sprayed my neck and shoulders with a new perfume that smells like roses and lavender. Everyone’s attention is on me, and a ripple of murmuring and whispers flows through the ballroom as I make way to the center of the dance floor.

  I crane my neck and search for Edward. We’re supposed to open the dance together. We had practiced a complicated choreography in his private garden.

  But no matter how I search for my husband, I can’t find him.

  “Kill her!” A cry tears through the crowd, and it seems to have caught fire. The whispering and murmurs change into deafening chants, and the audience that appeared to be aristocrats is in fact a large group of commoners, their expressions bloodthirsty.

  How did this happen? I look up, and discover a noose hanging over my head. I must escape, but then I find that my hands are bound, my feet tied to a heavy rock. Chains trail from my wrists, making clanging sounds as I struggle.

  “Witch!” Bianca hisses, her long finger pointing accusingly at me. “You impersonated my sister and forged her signature! For this heinous crime, you shall be sentenced to death!”

  “You deserved it.” A cold, hard tone that belongs to Katriona Bradshaw. She stares at me with vengeance in her eyes. “You stole my name, sent me to Moryn, and made me suffer. It is only fair that I am entitled to what you got. I will never divorce the prince.”

  “No.” My throat is dry, parc
hed and scratchy, my voice crackling. “No way. Edward needs me. I must return to his side.”

  Elle appears, her expression sorrowful, filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Kat, but His Highness isn’t here. We don’t know where he went.”

  “Time to go.” Someone pokes my back—Gemma, I think?

  I stumble forward, and my gaze finds the noose swinging above me. They're going to hang me. My life is about to end. Edward will never see me again.

  “NO!” I scream. “I’m the princess! Edward married me! Let me return to him!”

  I wake up, my teeth chattering, my chest heaving. I cough, and for a moment I wonder if my old symptoms have returned. No, it’s more likely the freezing cold.

  Then a noise interrupts my dizziness. “Get your lazy arse off the bed now. You have a trial today.”

  28

  Kat

  Memories of that eventful day when Bianca accused me of identity theft come rushing back to my mind, and I repress a shudder. I don’t want to go back to court. And it’s going to be worse this time.

  “I need a lawyer,” I say, biting down on my bottom lip. It’s unlikely the judges will give me a fair trial when I’m no longer royal. And to be honest, I am guilty. But maybe Mr. Davenport can at least reduce my final verdict. I don’t want to be the next one pushed under the noose.

  Gemma snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous. I ain’t wasting my time, and you don’t want to be late for your trial.”

  There’s a pain in my stomach; I don’t even want to think how prison food is prepared. Or maybe my immune system is weaker after those days in my cell. Whatever it is, I have to keep standing firm. I’d rather go to trial than return to that dank, miserable, claustrophobic room.

  “I know a lawyer personally,” I say again. “Please. Lady Elle will compensate you any expense.”

  Gemma rolls her eyes. “I ain’t wasting my time,” she repeats. Then she gives me a hard shove in the direction of the door, where a blue-uniformed officer is waiting. “Get out.”