Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance

by Laura Greenwood et al.

  She helped me stand up and while she went to fetch me some jewelry to put on, I stared at myself in the mirror. In a matter of minutes, Mother had transformed me into someone who was eerily familiar yet different. I looked more mature, less like a girl, more like a woman.

  But would it be enough, compared to the radiant beauty of my cousin?

  A memory flashed through my mind, a fleeting moment, transporting me back in time. Two years ago, a masked costume ball, a hand lightly touching mine, a shiver traveling down my spine.

  No, don’t think about that. Don’t.

  A smile, fingers touching my cheek. Then, Celia’s face, her coy smile, how she carelessly swirled her hair around her fingers. Celia, taking it all away, ripping it away from me as if it was nothing, nothing at all.

  The cold touch of a necklace against my bare skin brought me back to the present. I couldn’t dwell on the past, not tonight of all nights.

  “Turn around,” Mother ordered me, already swirling me around before I could even follow her command.

  She studied me for a second, taking in my features while she held on to my shoulders.

  “You look beautiful,” she said. “If he picks her over you, he’s as blind as a mole. Now, let’s go.”

  I followed after her, half-running to keep up as Mother strode out of my room, onto the hallway. Although we looked like twins, she held her head up straighter, she was at least a head taller than me, and she also looked far more regal than I ever could. If she hadn’t succeeded to get that which she really wanted, how did she ever expect me to get it for her then?

  I imagined her with the crown adorning her head, how queenly she would look, and how much better a ruler she would be than Celia, or even than the King himself. It was blasphemy to say that out loud, and I was afraid to even think it, although it was the truth.

  Celia would never make a suitable queen.

  It was my duty to the kingdom, my duty to Wonderland, to make sure she was never crowned Queen of Wonderland in the first place.

  Chapter 2

  “They’re not here yet,” Celia said impatiently, tapping her fingers on the side of the throne. She looked the exact same way she did back when we were children and she was losing at a game—annoyed, upset, on the brink of a tantrum. “And what took you so long? I was worried they would show up and you wouldn’t be here.”

  She liked to pretend that she needed me for everything, but when she had pushed my feelings aside as if they meant nothing, ripped out my heart and stamped on it, she hadn’t needed my help once.

  I sat down on the seat next to hers, while Mother sat next to me. Our seats were far less elaborately decorated than Celia’s, or her parents’. The King nodded at Mother and I, but the Queen stared on straight ahead, lost in her own world, as she had been for the last ten years. A puppet, her mind broken, she barely spoke anymore, but she sat there dressed up like a pretty doll.

  “Well, I’m here now,” I said to Celia while I sat down. “Don’t be nervous. Everything will work out, don’t worry.”

  “What if he doesn’t like me? What if he thinks I’m ugly? What if he refuses to marry me and—”

  I put my hand on hers, urging her to stop babbling. “He won’t, Celia. You’re the most beautiful girl in all of Wonderland.” The words tasted sour on my tongue; even if she looked like an angel, she hardly had a matching personality. “If he doesn’t like you, we’ll make sure he gets eaten by the Bandersnatch.”

  Celia gave a small smile, but I could still see how nervous she was. For a moment, I wanted to comfort her, really comfort her. When we were children growing up together, I had always had her back, and it came natural to me to want to protect her. Even after she had betrayed me in the worst possible way, I still wanted to keep her safe, but I had to steel my own heart against that. I couldn’t protect her anymore, now. I had to put myself first, before she trotted all over me.

  The doors opened in the back of the room, and a herald waltzed in.

  I sat up straight, my throat as dry as sandy paper. On my left, Mother turned as rigid as a statue, and on my right, Celia practically crushed my hand.

  Chin up, Regina, I told myself. This is all just a game of chess, and you’ve beaten Celia at chess for years.

  Never mind the stakes were much higher now and that the odds, history taken into account, were not in my favor, this was the one game I couldn’t lose.

  “Prince Caspian and Prince Malachi of the White Lands,” the herald announced, before he retreated back in the shadows, and the delegation from the White Lands came waltzing in.

  First came Prince Caspian, crown prince of the White Lands, the man who was to be engaged to my cousin. I heard Celia gasp from next to me, her fingers digging into my skin as she was still holding onto my hand as if it was her last lifeline.

  Prince Caspian was handsome in a traditional way: strong jaw, piercing blue eyes, golden-blonde hair, cleanly shaven. He looked like a prince charming ready to whisk away his princess, his armor brimmed with a golden line that sparkled in the light of the candles illuminating the room.

  He reminded me of Derrick.

  Derrick, the one person I shouldn’t think about. I felt my hand go limb in Celia’s, not from her holding it too tight, but from thinking about the uncanny resemblance between Derrick, the first and only man I had ever loved and this Prince Caspian.

  If history repeated itself, I didn’t know if I would be able to get over it this time around.

  Heck, I didn’t know if I had gotten over what happened the first time.

  “He looks like that knave, Derrick,” Celia whispered to me. “Remember him? I had such a crush on him when we were kids.”

  “Ssssh,” I snapped at her, while I kept on gawking at Prince Caspian. The White Prince, as he was called. He had once been our enemy, and now he was here to become our friend.

  The White Queen and the Red King had been in war for generations. But when to warring nations face an even worse foe, they often forget their own quarrels and try to find a way toward peace. That way came in the form of a possible union, between the crown princess of the Red Kingdom, my very own cousin, and the crown prince of the White Kingdom, this Caspian.

  Right behind Caspian walked a man who was no doubt his brother, but at the same time, looked as different from him as night and day. Prince Malachi had mid-length, black hair, a five o’clock shadow, but the same piercing blue eyes as his brother. As I studied him, his gaze travelled toward me, but he didn’t smile. Instead, with an icy cold glare, he stared at me from head to toe, taking me in the way one would an opponent.

  A slight smirk appeared on his features when he caught my gaze, as if he didn’t care in the slightest that I had caught him staring at me.

  “King James,” Caspian spoke, and I focused back on him, on this stranger who reminded me so much of a boy I had once known. The White Prince bowed before my uncle. “Thank you for your hospitality, and your kind invitation.”

  My uncle stood up straight, his bulging belly nearly tumbling out of his tunic. I had heard that our King was quite the catch in the day, but that day had long since passed. “Prince Caspian of the White Kingdom, we welcome you to the Red Kingdom.”

  Caspian bowed his head, and then gestured at the dark-haired man behind him. “May I introduce also my brother, Prince Malachi.”

  “Welcome,” my uncle said briefly, and Malachi gave the same bow as Caspian had. Something about this man gave me the shivers, even though I couldn’t pin-point what exactly.

  “May I introduce to you my daughter,” King James said as he took Celia’s hand and urged her to stand up. “Princess Celia.”

  Celia curtsied. I secretly hoped she would trip, but she was practically made from elegance and grace, so of course she didn’t.

  “As a way to welcome you here,” King James said to his visitors, “we have organized a banquet and a ball tonight.”

  I practically fumed in my seat. So, the King wouldn’t even bother to introduc
e my Mother and me.

  Mother glanced at me, the fury in her eyes matching my own.

  “Thank you, King James,” Prince Caspian said. “As we have travelled quite far, some food is certainly most welcome.”

  “In the meantime, the servants will bring your luggage to your chambers,” King James continued. “I hope the chambers are to your liking.”

  “I’m sure they will be immaculate,” Caspian said tactfully.

  He never once looked at Celia, during the time he spoke. His gaze was glued on the King. While I was studying the crown prince, I felt his brother staring at me, probably trying to figure out who I was and why I was sitting next to my cousin, considering my own uncle had so rudely forgotten to introduce me.

  To my surprise, Mother veered up from next to me. “Prince Caspian,” she said while she clasped her hands together. “It’s a delight to meet you. Allow me to introduce myself.” She shot a venomous look at her brother, who looked at her just as darkly.

  “I’m Lady Fiona, the Red Duchess, sister to the King,” Mother said. “And this is my beautiful daughter, Lady Regina.” She gestured at me, and I gritted my teeth. Did she have to make it anymore obvious what she was trying to do?

  I stood up as gracefully as I could.

  Play the game, Regina. Think about Derrick. Think about what she took from you once. Don’t let her do it again.

  But this Caspian, even if he did resemble Derrick in a way, wasn’t him, and the magic I had felt when Derrick was around, just wasn’t here now. And it never would be, because I wouldn’t let it. I refused to get hurt again.

  “Prince Caspian.” I curtsied and bowed my head toward him, without breaking eye-contact. My voice was slightly lower than I usually spoke, slightly softer, like a kiss of wind.

  For a second, the prince didn’t move, but then he bowed for me as well. “Lady Regina.”

  I liked the way he said my name, like a melody, a promise.

  For the first time, I began to believe that this game my Mother had planned might work after all.

  The King cleared his throat. “Please, my guests, let us head to the banquet hall.” He gestured to the double doors to our left, leading from the throne room to the banquet hall.

  While the other members of court already started moving toward the banquet hall, Celia grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks. For a moment, I worried she would snap at me for what had just happened, but as usual, she was too stuck in her own mind to even notice.

  “He’s pretty handsome, isn’t he?” Celia whispered to me. “I think he fancies me too. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s too soon to figure it out,” I whispered back to her. “Besides, he doesn’t need to fancy you to marry you.”

  I pushed her forward, and she followed after her father, toward the banquet hall.

  My heart hammered in my chest like a fright train. Celia was right that the crown prince was handsome, and he looked entirely too much like Derrick for my liking.

  Before the delegation from the White Kingdom had arrived, I had promised Mother I would play along with her games, but that was before it all became real, and before I realized how disastrous the consequences could be. Because, despite what I had promised my Mother, I never really thought it would work. I never imagined that anyone would pick me over Celia, no matter how much my mother schemed to make it happen.

  But judging by the way Prince Caspian had looked at me earlier, holding my gaze as we bowed for one another, my worst fear was starting to become reality.

  What if Mother’s plan worked after all? What if the crown prince of the White Kingdom chose me over my cousin—and what if that brought in motion the second, even more horrible part, of the plan Mother had concocted?

  Chapter 3

  During the banquet, I was seated next to Celia, who was chatting so much that she had barely managed to take a bite from the food. For obvious reasons, Caspian was sitting next to Celia, indulging her by pretending to listen to her chatting about the marvelous Bread-and-Butterfly collection of the palace. His brother, Malachi, was sitting next to him.

  I wasn’t comfortable at all. Not with Celia babbling non-stop, and not with Mother shooting me a warning glance every few seconds and nodding her head toward Caspian. It wasn’t like I could physically restrain Celia from uttering another word, even though I would’ve liked to.

  “That is truly fascinating, Celia,” Caspian said. “I mean—may I call you ‘Celia’?”

  She blushed, red dots appearing on her cheeks. “Of course. I shall then call you… Caspian.”

  I nearly gagged on the chicken leg I had just stuffed into my mouth. If I would have to listen to this awkward flirting all night, I would rather jump off the palace tower and welcome the sweet release of death.

  Malachi at least looked as bored by the festivities as I was. He had barely touched the food either, and instead, seemed slightly disinterested as he was leaning back in his chair, a faraway look in his eyes.

  “Lady Regina,” Caspian said, making me turn my attention away from his brother and toward him. “Forgive me, but I wanted to ask… If your mother is the king’s sister, your father, was he…”

  He didn’t even have to finish the sentence. “Obelin, the Slayer of the Jabberwocky,” I said, finishing it for him. Jabberwockies were fierce creatures that looked like dragons, with eyes of flame and wings on their back, but with a head more resembling a sea serpent. Not many people fought a Jabberwocky and lived to tell the tale. Ironically enough, my father had become famous for killing a Jabberwocky, but he himself has been killed by something as common as madness.

  “We’re all mad here,” were the last words my father had said to me, before he dove into the Pool of Tears. “I’m mad. You’re mad. We’re all mad here.”

  He was probably right.

  I coughed, clearing my throat. “Yes, my father was the famous Jabberwocky Slayer. He has passed away, unfortunately.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Caspian said. “He was quite famous in the White Kingdom too, and many a legend and song has been made about him, and about how he beat the Jabberwocky just to get the princess’s hand.”

  I glanced at my mother from across the table, glad she couldn’t hear this conversation. She was, as usual, seated next to her brother, with the queen on James’s other side. Even though she no longer spoke, at least she was still there. My mother had no one at her side—no one but me.

  “There are many tales about him here too,” Celia said enthusiastically. “Shall I sing one? I’m told my voice is quite melodious.”

  “No,” I said hoarsely, too quiet for Caspian to hear, but loud enough that Celia should pick up on it.

  I didn’t want her to sing any songs about my heroic father, not when the last memory I had of him as he perished in the Pool of Tears was far from heroic. Not when he had left my mother behind, not when he left me behind.

  Celia widened her eyes at me, as if telling me to shut up, and then turned right back to Caspian. “So, you want me to sing one?”

  I balled my hands into fists. Sometimes, I pretended that her ignorance was just that—ignorance. But when Celia so blatantly pushed aside my needs for hers, I was always reminded of how it was much more than that. How egotistical she was, how easily she put her own desires above everyone else’s.

  Caspian looked past Celia, at me. “Only if Lady Regina is all right with it.” There was a hint of hesitation in his voice. A prince from a faraway country who knew next to nothing about me and my family, and he had more dignity and understanding than my very own cousin.

  “Of course, Regina is all right with it,” Celia said, patting my arm and smiling at me, as if that would make everything all right.

  I grabbed the arms of my chair with all my strength, wishing I could wrap my hands around Celia’s neck instead. “I would prefer if you didn’t,” I said evenly, trying hard to keep my calm.

  Celia shot me an angry glare, as if I was the one acting stupid, not her. />
  “Of course, Lady Regina,” Caspian said quickly. “I completely understand. I’m sorry to bring up the topic. Let us talk about more joyful things.”

  “I’m sorry Regina is acting so uptight,” Celia said without missing a beat. “She probably just needs some air.” She turned to me, and with a straight face, said, “Cousin, why don’t you go grab some air out on the balcony?” She gestured her head toward the balcony at the end of the banquet hall, malice glistening in her eyes.

  Why did I sometimes still delude myself thinking she was a decent human being? That she cared about anyone but herself?

  “I shall.” I pushed my chair back and got up. Mother looked at me questioningly—she would no doubt question me about this later tonight, but I was glad to get away from Celia and her games for once.

  Without another word, I went toward the balcony. As soon as I exited the banquet room and felt the fresh air enter my lungs, I already felt slightly better.

  The balcony towered above the courtyard, and I wondered if Celia’s neck would snap if I pushed her down. Would it be enough to kill her?

  Of course, I didn’t want to kill her. Not really. Sometimes, she was infuriating enough to make me imagine it, though.

  I leaned my arms over the balcony, taking a deep breath. I had to stay calm and dignified, if I wanted to get through the night.

  Caspian was a decent guy; I had realized in the short amount of time I had spent in his presence. He had principles. Morals. This would complicate matters. People with morality were so much harder to manipulate.

  I craned my neck towards the starry sky ahead, wondering if maybe I was just as bad as my cousin, given I was willing to manipulate someone for my own purposes. Maybe all the things I blamed Celia for, I could also blame myself for.

  “Your cousin is a real piece of work.”