Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales Book 3)

by Aya Ling

  Jacques, Katriona Bradshaw’s husband, had been the key to her acquiescing to my request of divorce. Were it not for him, I would still be struggling to figure out a lawful and ethical way to get rid of Katriona Bradshaw. I wouldn’t have been able to acquit Kat of her ‘crime’ in court, unless I could have Father issue a royal pardon, which he is unlikely to give. And so, when Jacques asked for a sum to settle the problem between him and Katriona, as well as my sponsoring him a legal permit to stay and work in Athelia, I had no qualms agreeing to his request. Anything to make Katriona Bradshaw surrender is worth the cost.

  When my thoughts turn to court, I cannot be so optimistic. Despite Katriona’s signatures in the forms, the ultimate decision rests with the judges. The reason for the divorce, which I gave as “an irrevocable mistake,” is not normal—indeed, it isn’t even heard of. However, if it comes down to that matter, there is no choice but to reveal Jacques' existence. I had promised Katriona I would not let the public learn of her secret, unless as a last resort.

  No, what I’m truly worried about is Kat. I’ve read the papers this morning. There was one story about the trial, and the author was brutal, harsh, and contemptuous in his description of Kat. As though she were a covetous siren who made me lose my head. The latter part I will acknowledge as truthful, but as for calling Kat a siren, I can only laugh. People never understand that Kat did not set out to trap me into marriage. Were it not for my persistence (twice!), she would never have married me.

  I barely notice someone calling me, as I’m eager to leave the palace. And then my mind registers the speaker, and I force myself to halt.

  “Father.” I keep a pleasant smile on my face. “Good afternoon.”

  He frowns. “Where are you going?”

  “The same place I went to yesterday.”

  A servant hurries past with a hasty bow. Father clears his throat and indicates I follow him. When we are both in a small secluded room, I wait until he takes a seat before sitting down. I know what he plans to say, and I know I will not like it.

  “Your mother told me why you moved out.” Father sends me a disapproving glare. “You have set up house with Kat in the city centre.”

  “Actually, it was at Henry’s house.” I keep my tone casual, as though what I did was perfectly normal and not, as his tone suggests, an outrageous scandal.

  “I thought that you had more sense.” Father’s glare intensifies. “Even if you wanted to marry Kat, you must follow the proper procedure. You cannot simply move out of the palace. What will the people think?”

  “As a matter of fact, I regret not having moved out sooner. Do you know what happened to Kat when I found her two days ago?”

  “I understand that she had tried to impersonate the princess, was discovered, and tried in court.” The disapproval in Father’s tone could not be more obvious. “She should not have done that. Even if she were desperate to return to you, she should have waited.”

  I sigh. “It had nothing to do with me. If she wanted to be with me, she would have sent me word and I’d have gone to her. She wouldn’t have attempted to disguise as princess.”

  “Then why did she risk it?”

  I relate to him how Katriona had purchased Princess College for Lady Bradshaw, and how Kat, unable to come up with any other idea and worried that time was running out, had tried to sign over the ownership to Elle.

  Father’s expression softens. “That was foolish, though understandable. Nevertheless, it does not excuse your behavior.”

  “I couldn’t leave her alone. She has suffered enough since I made her stay in Athelia.” I lean forward, my arms crossed. “However you may disapprove, what’s done is done. Katriona Bradshaw has agreed to a divorce. It will not be long before I can marry Kat.”

  “That may be more problematic than you think.”

  “You will not give your consent?”

  “No. That is, even if I do consent, I am not the only one you must convince.”

  A sense of foreboding prickles my mind. “I would appreciate an elaboration.”

  “Have you heard of the Royal Marriages Act?”

  I have a vague memory of the term when I was a child, but it has never occurred to me to probe further. I was not keen on the idea of marrying until I met Kat.

  “It was established because of your grandfather.”

  I look up. I am not surprised—my strict upbringing had came to be because my father was afraid that I might grow up to behave like my profligate grandfather. However, him playing a hand in my marriage prospects is a novelty.

  “Your grandfather, in his youth, had fallen in love with a stage actress. He wanted to marry her, despite she was a scandalous choice. Not even the public would accept a future queen who had dressed scantily on stage, and there were rumors she had an illegitimate child by the troupe master. In order to prevent the actress from entering our family, the Privy Council established the law as thus: any union between a commoner and a royal will be deemed void and null.”

  The Privy Council. A bunch of priggish, strait-laced men who could have better things to do with their time. My heart sinks to the pit of my torso.

  “What about a morganatic marriage?” My voice rises. “Kat does not care for my title.”

  “It is of no use, though it was allowed before the Royal Marriages Act was established. Not everyone in the country is aware of the RMA; it only applies to royals, and generally it’s impossible for a royal to meet and fall in love with a commoner. Simply put, you are not allowed to marry Katherine Wilson. Not even if you take her to Ruby Red.”

  I set my jaw. “What must I do to convince the Privy Council?”

  “Leave her. The public believes she is a femme fatale who seduced you and made you put aside your lawful wife. She is beneath your station, Edward.”

  “Right.” I control the urge to explode on spot. “I do not recall any instance that you expressed such an opinion when everyone thought she were the daughter of an earl. What if one day she is discovered to be the long-lost daughter of Augustin? Will she magically become my equal again?”

  “You’re speaking of the impossible.”

  “Allow me remind you that Lady Bradshaw’s servant had turned out to be the daughter of an earl.”

  “Edward,” he growls in a warning tone I recognize—I’ve used it on Kat whenever she teases me mercilessly. “Do you suppose High Court will grant you a divorce after you flaunted your infidelity, especially with a girl with no title to her name?”

  I resist slamming my fist on the table. Instead, I force myself to calm down and take a deep breath. “Thank you for the forewarning. However, I hope you will understand that I will not cease trying to restore Kat to her rightful place in the palace. After all the trouble I’ve went through to persuade her to marry me, do you genuinely believe that such minor obstacles could alter my decision?”

  My father sighs and places his hands on his thighs. There’s a weariness in his eyes that reminds me he is nearing sixty, and he had expressed more than once that he wished to retire. “I admit I have not expected you would acquiesce defeat. I am not a hard-hearted person, Edward, and I do not deny the vast difference in your behavior after Katriona moved into the palace. Yet I feel it my duty to caution you—if you wish to achieve your goal, you would do well to behave more discreetly. Moving out of the palace, deserting your lawful wife, taking in another woman, and now planning for a divorce…mark my words, you will find it a long and arduous journey.”

  True. Yet when I recall Kat’s disheveled face and emaciated state at court, I have not the slightest regret for moving out of the palace.

  “I appreciate your advice, Father,” I say. I probably should have left it at that, but I could not help adding, “If you have no further need of me, I would like to go home now.”

  32

  Kat

  I sense that there is something on Edward’s mind. When Amelie told me he has returned, I flew down the stairs, a huge grin on my face. I’ve been trying t
o amuse myself with the books from Henry’s library, but to be honest, he hasn't acquired anything interesting since the last time I perused it. Most of the books are dry and boring, like sand clogging my brain.

  After Edward hands his coat to Thomas, I pounce on him (husband, not butler). I fasten my arms around his neck and kiss him hungrily, my desire rising as each second passes by. Were we in my bedroom, instead of the sitting room, I would have tugged his shirt off and led him to bed.

  “Kat…” Edward breaks off the kiss and gently removes my arms. He’s smiling—the pleasure from our intimacy evident from the glow in his eyes, and his ears have gone beet red. “While I appreciate your exuberant display, do not tempt me again. I doubt I could stop myself from ravishing you if you kiss me like that again.”

  “Why should you be concerned? We’re husband and wife—almost. Besides, I’ve missed you so much. I want you, Edward. Now that we’re living together, why shouldn’t we be able to continue as before?”

  There’s a sparkle in his eyes when I proclaim that I want him, but he shakes his head, his shoulders slumped. “As much as I wish to spend the night with you, I cannot take the risk. If our child is born when we are not lawfully wedded, he would be a bastard.”

  “But even if I’m pregnant tomorrow, it’ll take nine months until the baby is born. Surely we’d be married by then.”

  He looks away. “I suppose. However, according to the proper procedure, it will take about three or four months until I can marry you. If you have a swelling belly when we re-marry, people may believe I only married you because you have my child.”

  “Our child,” I say emphatically. When others referred to our future kids, they made it sound like I’m birthing a child for the sake of producing an heir, but in my mind the child is first and foremost the result of Edward and I. “Who cares what others think? If you cared, you would have married a proper lady. You had your share of disbelief and ridicule when you chose me at the ball.”

  But no matter how I coax, beg, and do everything I can to convince him that there’s no need for us to be celibate, he remains adamant. It almost seems ridiculous at this reversal of events. Last year, when I returned to Athelia in my own body, Edward had been actively pursuing me, his desire restrained by action but evident in his eyes. However, this time when it’s me wanting to sleep with him, he is concerned about my reputation.

  Slightly miffed, I fold my arms. “Did you say it will take at least three months until the divorce is finalized? Is it because of some fussy rule that it has to be so long?”

  He explains the process of the divorce, including a decree nisi and decree absolute, and it's up to the court to decide if the prince can be allowed to divorce his wife. Geez.

  “What if High Court won’t agree?” I say, remembering the headlines. “The public doesn’t know the truth. They’ll think you’re deserting your wife for another. What shall we do if the judges won’t let you divorce Katriona?”

  Edward sets his jaw. “That is why I told you we cannot be intimate, because I cannot be sure how long it will take for us to be together. Moreover, High Court is not the only place we should be worried about.”

  “There’s more?”

  Edward informs me of a Royal Marriages Act that forbids a royal to marry a commoner. “This signifies that even if I am divorced, my marriage to you will not be recognized. You cannot take the title of princess.”

  “I don’t care about being princess,” I exclaim, glaring at him. “Being with you is enough.” But once the words leave my mouth, I know I’m being naive. There’s no way I can stay in the palace as Edward’s mistress.

  He smiles ruefully and runs a hand down the side of my face, cupping my chin. “Perhaps it does not matter as much in your world, but I care if you cannot receive royal privileges from an official marriage. I want you to hold your head high.” He applies pressure to my chin, making me tilt my head and look up at him. “I want you to walk by my side, accompany me to official events, and be widely respected and loved by our people. Besides, there are many things you will be able to do if you were royal. Think of Princess College, for example. The social acts you undertake will be much easier to implement when you wield the power and have the influence as princess of Athelia.”

  I open my mouth, but can’t find the words to argue with him. I’d be happy as long as we can live together, but it isn’t enough, no matter how I try to convince myself. Athelia will not accept a prince living with a woman without a marriage license. Our children will suffer from a nebulous, uncertain identity. And even in our world, marriage rights matter as well—LGBT groups in most countries are still fighting for their rights.

  Edward takes my hands. There’s a sadness in his eyes, though his grip is firm. “More than anything, I want to have you in my bed. But the last thing I want is for you to suffer public wrath. When we marry, I want you to be the happiest bride in Athelia.”

  He pulls me into his arms, resting his chin on my head. “Trust me,” he murmurs, his lips moving over my hair. “When you are officially mine, I will have you in bed every night. You will be yawning every morning at breakfast, and my parents will understand it is because I’ve kept you up late in night.”

  I blush, remembering the embarrassing conversation that day. When Edward and I came back from our honeymoon in Enrilth, he had tutored me in Athelian culture well into the night. As a result, I was blurry-eyed and sleepy the next morning, and the queen inquired after my health. I had blurted that Edward was the reason for my drowsiness, and naturally, everyone assumed we had a wild, passionate night, when in reality it was him giving me princess lessons so I can fool the others in my memory-lacking state.

  I draw back slightly and give him a mischievous smile. I may be easily embarrassed, but I’m not an innocent debutante. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  * * *

  Later that night I lie in bed—alone—staring at the pine-green ceiling. It’s all Edward’s fault. I’ve rarely had a fitful sleep since I left him, though knowing his affection for me, I doubt he’s having a restful night either.

  Three months. It’s going to be three months, or even longer, until we could be married again. But even if we marry, there will be no blessings—save for our close friends. People still believe I’m a witch.

  I turn to the other side, bunching the blankets between my legs. Don’t lose faith, Kat. This isn’t the end of the world. Somehow, I’m reminded of the time when I was at Lady Bradshaw’s house, when I was desperately trying to figure out how to complete the fairy tale and return home. This is just another obstacle in the path to success. Even if I never achieved my goal of getting Cinderella together with the prince.

  But what can I do? I don’t want to move out; I’d rather that the entire Athelian public hate me than leave Edward’s side.

  Talk to Mr. Wellesley, I decide. He’s my adopted grandfather; I should spend more time with him. The article that belittled me was published in Athelia Today, and Mr. Wellesley has connections with the magazine. I’ve got to do something.

  33

  Kat

  “I’d rather wear that dress today.” I point to a sky-blue gown with white ruffles around the collar, but no trimmings on the skirt. It’s the plainest gown I have. “I plan to take the omnibus downtown.”

  Amelie pauses. “His Highness is concerned for your safety.”

  “Which is why you and Bertram are coming with me. There are plenty of shops near The Bookworm.” When she looks unconvinced, I add, “Amelie, I’m not a wanted criminal. I’m going out because I want to talk to some people who might help me move back to the palace. Not because I like to contradict His Highness.”

  “This had better be worth it,” she says, but she takes the blue dress off the hanger. As I hold up the bulk of my hair so she can lace up my back, she mutters, “I wish they’d do away with those stupid rules and let you return soon.”

  Bertram is waiting for us when Amelie and I descend the stairs. His smile lights up his who
le face as he gazes at Amelie, who has once again let her hair down, which falls to her waist like a chocolate waterfall. I’m tempted to ask her to stop wearing her hair in a stiff bun, but considering her job, it is easier for her to clean the room and dress me up without her Rapunzel-like hair getting in the way.

  “His Highness said he’ll try to return in the afternoon, so we’d best head back after lunch. If that’s all right with you, Princess Kat?” Bertram says, though his gaze is glued on Amelie. She blushes and looks away.

  “Absolutely,” I say, trying hard not to laugh. Bertram really has it bad.

  * * *

  Once we reach the downtown area, I tell Amelie and Bertram to wait for me at the famous statue of King Ulrich on a horse. Ulrich is one of the founding fathers of Athelia, and his statue is set in the middle of a large market square. The Bookworm is in a narrow alley near the square.

  However, when I step off the carriage and proceed to the square, I realize there’s no way we can wait at the statue. There’s a raised platform set in front of Ulrich’s horse, and surrounding the platform are dozens—no, hundreds of people. I’d have to pick another meeting point.

  And then, an unnaturally loud voice blasts through the hustle and bustle of the people filling up the square.

  “How many of you have suffered from the disastrous crops this winter?”