by Aya Ling
* * *
Gemma was lying about not wanting me be late for the trial. There’s a big difference compared to my trial when I was princess. The Common Court is smaller, and there are only a few judges sitting on a raised platform. A clerk is in charge of the procedure, reading out names and calling witnesses, and occasionally provides legal assistance from a thick book on his desk. There is an audience, but only about a few dozen, unlike the teeming crowd when I was at High Court. Looks like my trial isn’t publicized, or there has to be more people. Maybe Bianca or Katriona wanted my case to be kept as low-key as possible, so Edward, or the king and queen, won’t know about it. I scan the audience for Elle, but she isn’t here either. I’m completely on my own.
Be strong, Kat. Do your best to exonerate yourself. You must stay strong for Edward’s sake.
I sit through three convictions before my name is called. When I am conducted to the front, I feel someone gazing at me and I turn around.
Bianca and Katriona have arrived. Both of them look ridiculously out of place in this small courtroom. Bianca, in particular, looks like royal herself. Her navy blue gown isn’t flashy but speaks of high quality. Diamonds glitter on her throat and in her hair. There’s a cold, cruel smirk in the corner of her lips, as though she’s deriving joy from seeing my sorry state. I can't see my reflection, but I must be a fright. The judges are less likely to be merciful when I look like a criminal.
Katriona Bradshaw, on the other hand, seems rather frightened, and when she meets my eyes, she drops her gaze and folds her hands in her lap. Bianca whispers something to her, like she’s telling Katriona not to worry.
“Katherine Wilson,” the clerk reads my indictment. “Stating in evidence whereof the accused did attempt to possess the property of another by means of forgery.”
I stagger to the space in front of the judges. My head hurts and I’m shivering, but I have to stay put. The judge in the middle peers at me through giant spectacles. The one on his right glances at me and Katriona, then whispers to the judge on the left. They are all male, wear white wigs and black cloaks, and none of them appear sympathetic.
“Your name is Katherine Wilson?” The judge in the middle asks.
I nod. There’s no use trying to say I’m Katriona Bradshaw. And there is a certain relief that I can use my own name.
The judge questions me about my family and where I grew up. Thanks to Edward’s idea that Mr. Wellesley adopt me, I’m able to provide a plausible story.
“Do you admit to forging the princess’s signature and impersonating her, when you went to Spencer’s Sky-High Realty on the third of June?”
Sir Langley is also among the audience. He doesn’t have the vindictive expression Bianca wears, and he’s staring at me with suspicion and curiosity. The judge said ‘the princess.’ Not Katriona Bradshaw.
I throw back my shoulders and straighten my spine. “No.”
Bianca gasps. Surprise flits across the judge’s face. They might not expect I would admit to the crime straight away, but neither would they expect I’d deny it in such a defiant manner.
“You do not admit that you’re guilty of impersonating the princess?” the judge says, cocking his head. “Are you saying you were not present at Spencer’s Sky-High Realty that day?”
“No.” I raise my voice and send Bianca an intense glare. My fury at Bianca fuels me with strength to keep going. “There’s no need for me to impersonate. Because I AM the princess.”
This time, even the audience erupts with amazement and excitement. Bianca looks speechless for a moment, then snarls, “Liar!” Katriona stares at me, a hand pressed on her chest.
“She’s not of sound mind,” someone utters.
“The prince proposed to me at the ball,” I continue calmly, as though I was doing the weather forecast. “He chose me out of hundreds of girls. We married at St. James Cathedral, I’ve been the princess ever since, and I’ll be damned if I say otherwise.”
Ignoring Bianca’s spluttering protest, I turn to Sir Langley. “I came to your office a year ago and requested that you sublet 102 Longbourne St. It was previously a boys’ primary school, and when the school had to be relocated due to its being insufficient to house too many students, I asked you if you would sell the place to me instead. Because Lady Elle, daughter of Earl Bradshaw, and I, wished to establish a school for girls. Is that correct?”
“The accused may not question, unless the witness is sworn in,” the clerk says.
“Then let Sir Langley be brought forward,” I say, my voice ringing with authority. I may look awful, but I know my attitude is of someone used to giving orders.
The judge doesn’t seem pleased at my issuing orders, but he asks Langley to stand as witness.
Langley is sweating, but he confirms everything I say. I watch with satisfaction as Katriona stammers through questions like Edward’s birthday, his favorite flowers, and his childhood. The judge has no way to confirm if I’m right, but at least I got the facts right with Langley. And Katriona didn’t even know I fell on my butt during my presentation, nor anything about the articles I wrote.
By this time, the audience has grown to accommodate the entire courtroom. Hushed whispers and suspicious looks abound. I stand tall, my expression smug. I cannot lose heart.
Bianca looks like she wants to scratch my eyes out; Katriona is hugging her shoulders, her spine bent, her face a picture of frustration. The judges, who at first seemed bored and convinced I was guilty, appear troubled and wary.
But while I’ve managed to disrupt the foregone conclusion (in the previous three convictions, all were found guilty), the evidence against me is too overwhelming.
“Katherine Wilson,” the judge in the middle intones. “If you are, as you say, the real princess, a few matters need to be sorted. Why did you not use your own name? Why use the name of Katriona Bradshaw?”
Because when Edward was courting me, I inhabited her body. Yeah, right. As if I could tell the judge the truth. I might be burned at the stake instead of being hanged on a noose.
“Because she’s a fraud!” Bianca says, her nostrils flared. “Don’t you see the similarities between her and my sister? She thought she couldn’t marry the prince, the lowly commoner she is, and masqueraded my sister!”
“Er…Lady Pembroke,” the clerk intervenes tentatively. “By the rules, one may not speak unless the judge makes the request.”
Bianca sweeps him an icy glare.
“Do you wish to stand in as witness, Lady Pembroke?” the judge asks.
She glances at me, but sits down. “I will if the occasion requires it. Continue with your questioning.”
“Well, Miss Wilson?” The judge levels a stern look at me. “By law, the prince cannot marry a commoner, yet you have revealed yourself as having pedestrian roots, not patrician.”
I remember Edward saying that under Athelian law, a royal cannot marry a commoner unless it is a morganatic marriage.
“Was the prince aware that you were common-born when he married you?”
I cannot bring Edward into this. It’s bad enough that I am prosecuted, but it’s worse if Edward shoulders the blame. He has suffered enough.
I shake my head. “No. The prince knew nothing. It…it was all my fault.”
“So you admit that you are guilty of impersonating Katriona Bradshaw?”
My mouth is dry. It is then I realize I’ve been arguing two different things. I may convince the judges I am the princess, but the case is about assuming Katriona Bradshaw’s name. Whether Katriona is princess or not, I did assume her identity, even though it was never my idea to wrong her.
I lick my lips, my throat dry. The pain in my stomach has started again, more violently this time, and I double over, clutching my stomach.
“Miss Wilson?” The judge’s voice seems far away.
My mind is wiped blank, I can’t think of anything to defend myself, and I’m all alone in this court, with Bianca and Katriona determined to see me convicted of
crime.
And then—
“Kat!”
A tall figure cuts through the crowd, his face filled with consternation. Dark, wavy hair, golden-brown eyes, and a face that is more perfect than any sculpture. Edward, my fairy-tale husband, is striding through the court, ignoring the gasps of surprise around him, ignoring the clerk’s pleas that he stay back.
“Release her.” He speaks in a tone so icy that it rivals Bianca’s. “All charges on this woman shall be dropped immediately.”
29
Kat
Edward has come for me.
I want to run and throw myself in his arms, but my knees buckle and I stumble. I don’t know if it’s the relief of seeing him, the stress accumulated in that horrible windowless cell, but I’m on the verge of fainting. Dang, I hate to be so weak.
The uniformed officer stretches a hand to me, intending to support me, but Edward grasps his arm. “Do not touch my wife.”
“Edward,” I croak. “How did…you were supposed to have left…”
“I came back,” he says, placing his arm around my back, oblivious to my filthiness. The solid warmth from his hand reassures me I’m not dreaming. “Thank goodness I returned in time.” His gaze roves over me, taking in my matted hair, my torn and dirt-stained gown, and my big toe peeking out of my hole-filled shoes. His brow wrinkles--he must also have sensed that I’m stinking, as I wasn’t able to bathe for days. “You were in jail.” He looks over at Bianca, and there is such fury in his gaze that she flinches and looks on the ground.
“Your Highness?” The judge says with uncertainty. “I beg your pardon, but no intrusion is allowed while court is in session. I must ask you to release Miss Wilson and take a seat.”
“She is innocent,” Edward says, his tone resounding with authority. “Whatever crime you’re accusing her of, she is not part of it.”
“According to the rules, you must be seated until summoned.”
Edward doesn’t move, however. He looks in Katriona’s direction and mouths something I can’t read. She turns deathly pale, as though she is the guilty one, and nods.
“I…I take it back,” she says. “I withdraw the accusation.”
“What are you talking about?” Bianca looks incredulous. “She’s guilty of serious offense!”
Katriona shakes her head and speaks again. The judge waves his hand, the clerk bangs the gavel, and gradually the crowd quiets down. When the noise is kept to a bare minimum, Katriona opens her mouth.
“His…His Highness has informed me with...with facts I had not known before. Katherine Wilson is innocent. There has been a misunderstanding, and I revert all charges against her.”
The court erupts again. The judge calls for order, but the audience barely heeds him—who can stay still at this moment?
Edward tightens his arm around my shoulder. “Kat, let’s go.”
The next second, I’m shocked when he hooks his other arm beneath my legs and carries me outside, like I’m an invalid.
“Put me down,” I protest. I'm elated to be in his arms, but at the same time I hate that I'm filthy and stinking. “I can walk, honestly. Everyone’s staring.”
He simply winds my arm around his neck, making me nestle closer in his embrace. “They’d stare, whether I’m holding you or not.” He readjusts his grip and frowns. “You’ve lost weight. How long were you in prison?”
“I’m not sure...five...or six days? I wasn’t able to keep count.”
Edward’s jaw tightens. “I’ll make sure you eat properly from now on.”
The crowd becomes a blur, the deafening noise becomes a buzz, as Edward carries me away from court, his arm a pillar of support. Outside, along a wide road, Bertram stands next to a sleek black carriage—the one Edward uses when he doesn’t want to be recognized.
“Princess Kat.” Bertram bows and averts his eyes, as if he can’t bear to see my pathetic state. “The court ordered her release?”
“Of course. I would have removed her by force if it comes to that.” Edward’s face is grim. “Let us depart without delay.”
Edward wraps a long cloak around me and bundles me into the carriage. At that moment I could do anything for him—never have I felt such overwhelming affection for him. I’m so thankful to be out, to be away from prison, and safe from the noose. Tears run down my face, and Edward wipes them away.
“There, don’t cry,” he whispers soothingly. “I’ve got you, Kat, and God forbid that you stray in danger again. Everything is going to be all right.”
“Where are we going?” A jolt of alarm runs through my head. “We’re not going to the palace, are we? You can’t bring me back when Katriona is still officially princess.”
“Don’t worry.” He presses a finger on my lips. “We’re going to Henry’s. I already wrote him and asked him if he could lend use of his house, and he readily agreed.”
I let my head fall on his shoulder, all strength drained from my body. Even if we're heading to a straw hut, I wouldn’t mind. As long as he is by my side, anywhere is fine by me.
* * *
Henry’s place is like heaven, after experiencing jail. It’s not as magnificent as the palace, nor on par with Bianca’s residence, but it’s distinctly more expensive than Poppy’s house.
Once we step off the carriage, Thomas, Henry’s butler, is already waiting by the door. He bows low as we enter the parlor, and does not even blink that the prince is carrying a woman who resembles a street rat.
Soon I’m conducted to a bathroom upstairs, where a middle-aged woman (I was later to learn she’s the cook) scrubs away the layers of dirt and washes my hair, scenting it with floral shampoo. What a relief it is to step into a clean, sweet-smelling nightgown that isn’t patched or torn.
“Sorry it’s a mite larger for you,” Cook says, toweling my hair dry. “There wasn’t enough time so I got you one of my own. But I expect His Highness will send a supply for you soon.”
I thank her and assure her it’s no problem at all. A while later, a maid ducks her head into the room and informs us that Edward is waiting for me.
Edward is in the library, reading a book. A fire crackles merrily in the grate. I’m reminded of the first time we met in Henry’s library. So much has happened between us since that encounter.
“Kat,” he exclaims. Relief spreads over his face as he gazes at me, now clean and presentable. “How are you feeling now?”
A rumble from my stomach answers his question. We smile at each other; Edward hails the maid and tells her to bring a dinner tray.
I sit down on the sofa, kick off my fluffy slippers, and snuggle against him, enjoying the heat radiating from his body. He raises my chin and kisses me, his lips soft and warm on mine. Oh, how I’ve missed moments like this.
“What did you say to Katriona Bradshaw that made her drop charges?”
Edward gives me a ruthless smile. It’s not often that I am witness to the darker, manipulative part of him. “I’ve found out her past when she was in Moryn. She’s already married to a young farmer in a small Moryn village.”
“No. Freaking. Way.” That’s why he disappeared for so long. He went to make sure that Katriona was already married.
“Mother was suspicious about her behavior. She had attempted to be kind to Katriona, and asked her where she was before you moved into the palace. Katriona was evasive when answering; it seemed that she was hiding something. When Mother mentioned this, I remembered that when we attended the emperor’s wedding, Katriona was reluctant to participate in public events, such as riding through the city or taking a boat ride. It was as if she did not want to show her face in public. It later occurred to me that maybe she didn’t want to be recognized. I asked Henry to do some investigating for me. When Katriona was transported to Moryn, in order to survive, she agreed to marry a local farmer.”
Despite my dislike for Katriona Bradshaw, my sympathy goes out to her. What would I have done if I had ended up in a small village, alone and helpless, instead of bein
g a younger daughter of an earl?
“Obviously, she wasn’t happy with the arrangement. While she was not as popular as her sister, she had expected to make a match in the peerage. Not to an illiterate person, not far away in a foreign country, not in a tiny village. So once she had the chance, she stole everything she could from her husband, made her way to Moryn’s capital, and boarded a ship to Athelia.”
That must be when Jérôme sighted her. When he came on the State Visit to Athelia, he had told me I looked familiar. It was Katriona Bradshaw that he had seen in the streets.
“And you tracked down her husband?”
“We did. Since she stole his life savings, he was frantically looking for her, and once we gave out the description of a red-haired Athelian girl, he answered our ad. I met him in person, and he showed me the wedding ring.” He looks at me with regret. “If only I wasn’t away, I could have saved you.”
If he didn’t discover Katriona’s secret, he would have a much tougher time freeing me, especially when I’m guilty of forgery and the public despises me. But I didn’t get to say that, for at that moment, Thomas enters, bearing a tray of aromatic food. My mouth starts to salivate and I can barely restrain from wrestling the tray from him.
“Thank you, Thomas.” Edward gestures to the table. “No, there’s no need to ladle the soup; I will tend to my wife. I shall let you know when we are finished.”
There’s a pot of steaming chicken broth and a loaf of fresh rye bread, still warm from the oven. I wolf down two bowls and three slices; table manners can wait for another day. Edward also helps himself, but mostly he watches me eat, a pensive look in his eyes.
“Did they mistreat you in prison?” He narrows his eyes, as if he’s planning to punish anyone who’s responsible for my thin frame.
Quickly I assure him that since Elle got me a private cell, it could have been worse. Still I shiver, remembering those long hours in prison, unable to do anything or talk to anyone. If I were sent back, it’s possible I could go mad. “But oh, I’m so thankful you came in time. I kept telling myself that I had to be strong for your sake, but this time I didn’t have Mr. Davenport to defend me, and I was guilty of assuming Katriona’s identity.”
