Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales Book 2)

by Aya Ling

  There doesn’t seem to be anything else to do but follow him. Edward pulls open a door, and I gape.

  It’s like traveling on a first-class train, vintage-style. The cabin is the last word in elegance, with polished oak paneling, banquette seating by curtained windows, lacy white coverings on the seats, rose-patterned lamps, and a vase filled with orchids on a table. On another table near the wall lies a fully-laden tray, a tea set complete with a three-tier dessert stand.

  “Pinch me,” I say faintly. “I must be dreaming.”

  Beside me, Edward chuckles. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “Does this feel like dreaming?”

  The young giant shows up. He has to stoop in the doorway before entering, but he does it pretty smoothly, like he’s used to ducking wherever he goes.

  “Your Highness. Princess Kat.” He bows and grins. I snatch my hand back from Edward’s grasp, feeling totally embarrassed. “If there’s nothing else you’ll be needing, I’ll tell the driver to get ready for departure.”

  Edward’s gaze sweeps over the compartment. “We’re ready.”

  “Very good, Your Highness.”

  “One thing—guard the doors. I wish no interruptions until we arrive.”

  The giant’s grin grows even wider. From how he caught the prince kissing my hand, I can imagine what he’s thinking—the prince doesn’t want to be disturbed because he can’t wait to be alone with his blushing new bride. Probably looking forward to a steamy make out session.

  As if I’d let him kiss me again. As soon as I figure out what bizarre accident I was in, I’ll find a way to return to my sane, non-luxurious, boring home. Well, maybe I don’t have to figure it out immediately . . .

  4

  Edward settles on one of the plush covered chairs. “Tell me what you remember.”

  “Do you always talk like this?”

  “Pardon me?”

  I imitate his imperious tone, cross my legs, and look at him like he is beneath my nose.

  To my surprise, he laughs. There really should be a law that forbids a guy this good-looking to laugh like that. It easily melts my defenses.

  “If I needed the last bit of proof that you are the Kat I know, this is it. My Kat wouldn’t tolerate any arrogance.”

  “My Kat? Since when did I become your property?”

  “I apologize,” he says, though he doesn’t really sound sincere. In fact, he looks kind of pleased, even relieved. I wonder for the hundredth time what is going on, and who is this other Kat he is referring to? “Let us start again, shall we? Please tell me what you can remember thus far.”

  I glance outside. The townhouses have become increasingly sparse, replaced by cottages dotted in farmlands. It confirms my suspicions. I really am in a different world. There is no way a movie set could be this big. With a sinking heart, I wonder how I am ever going to get home. I wonder if I’m dreaming. I wonder if I’ve lost my mind.

  A sweet, rich aroma tantalizes my nose. Surprised, I find a cup of hot tea pressed into my hands, the steam still rising from the caramel-colored liquid.

  “Here,” Edward says in a soothing tone. There’s no trace of the haughty manner as might behoove a prince. All I can sense is a compassionate, concerned look in his eyes. “Perhaps some tea will be more conducive to conversation.”

  He pours himself a cup as well. I raise the cup to my lips and take a sip. Strong, bold, without any bitter aftertaste. It contains the precise amount of sugar to make the taste sweet but not cloying. The addition of cream enhances the flavor, warming my insides. It’s almost as if he knew what I preferred.

  Edward catches me staring at him, and he smiles. “When we were engaged, I taught you to appreciate a good cup of tea. Before that, you told me you preferred coffee.”

  I do remember developing a taste for tea several years earlier, when Gabriel and I started dating. But this guy—prince—doesn’t look like Gabriel. Well, they’re both tall and gorgeous and friendly, but the similarities stop there. Gabriel is your ordinary, down-to-earth guy, whereas Edward gives off a polished, refined, debonair air that speaks of a man whose upbringing is anything but ordinary. I could imagine going to the movies and getting popcorn with Gabriel, but never with Edward. A candlelit dinner in a Michelin restaurant with flowers and champagne seems more like the latter’s style.

  “You said you are a prince,” I say slowly. “And you said I’m a princess. How the heck did I become princess of a country I don’t even know exists?”

  He pulls out a pocket watch and consults it. “It is a long story, but we have a few hours’ journey.” He gives me a twisted smile, but there is a sad, lonely look in his eyes. “Is there truly nothing you can remember about me, Kat?”

  For some reason, I feel sorry for him. I must look exactly like that girl he confuses me with. I wonder what kind of amazing girl she is to catch the attention of this prince, who seems totally devoted to her. “Tell me your story. Perhaps after hearing it, I can give you a better answer?”

  He looks around, like he’s trying to make sure that he’s not overheard, and then leans back in his chair. “Shall we start with the day we first met?”

  And he tells me the most ridiculous story I have ever heard. Apparently, I was transported to his old-fashioned country when I ripped apart an old Cinderella book. The only way I could get back to America was to complete the story, which basically means that Cinderella has to get married to the prince. But in the end, he fell in love with me instead.

  I don’t remember that I had ever met him, much less falling in love. But why do I feel like I’ve already heard of this story?

  He mentioned a book.

  A book that started it all.

  The Ugly Stepsister.

  Most of the stuff he told me had happened in the book, I realize with startling clarity. Except that there was no background on the ugly stepsister being from another world. But everything that happened between her and the prince is exactly the same as the story he told me. And the prince . . . and the prince . . .

  Both are named Edward.

  It can’t be true. According to what he said, I am now Katriona Bradshaw, the other stepsister in the Cinderella retelling. The same retelling that I owned. But I don’t remember anything of ripping up the book. It might be a bit worn after numerous re-readings, but all the pages are intact. Speaking of the book, an image of the book spinning in the air, right above Jason’s bed, flashes in my mind.

  Impossible. There is no way that the book could be at Jason’s. As much as I loved the book, I couldn’t take it along with all my luggage to Oregon. Yet . . . I reach into my mind, desperately trying to remember what the book looked like, but somehow, the more I try, the hazier it becomes. One moment, I recall the book rotating slowly, and the next moment it’s gone . . . gone where?

  Pain explodes in my head.

  I let out a cry and put both hands on my head. The dizziness returns in full force and I massage my temples, trying to compose myself. In a second, the prince is by my side.

  “Kat? Kat, where are you hurting?”

  “I’ll be . . . I’m fine.” I try to wave him away. “Just let me lie down for a second.”

  He suddenly gets up and leaves, but soon, he is back with a middle-aged man in a black suit. “Dr. Jensen, it seems that my wife has a severe headache.”

  The doctor checks my pulse and asks a few questions, which I’m able to answer clearly. The pain has subsided, but my head is still throbbing.

  “Her Highness seems to be all right, apart from the sudden attack that I cannot find the reason for. I would suggest that she have some nourishment and take a good rest. She seems healthy enough, so hopefully it was simply over-exertion.”

  Edward says a few things to him in a low voice. The doctor looks at me, shakes his head, and tells him in an equally low voice that I can’t discern. “Memory . . . temporary loss . . .” seems to be what they are talking about.

  But I am in no mood to listen. My conversation w
ith Edward was so shocking, so ridiculous that I refuse to believe it. I can’t have traveled to a storybook and later returned home. I can’t have met him, gotten engaged, and not remember anything about him. The most plausible explanation is that I happen to look like the princess, who has somehow disappeared. When the train stops, I must try to find where the real princess is and try to get home.

  I pretty much sleep through the rest of the journey. Edward converts one of the chairs into a makeshift bed so I can lie down, using one of the cushions as a pillow. Once or twice in my sleep, I am dimly aware of the brush of his fingers on my forehead, smoothing back the hair from my face, but I’m too exhausted to care. My last conscious thought is to get away from this strange but fascinating world. I am not, and cannot be, this princess of Athelia.

  * * *

  “Kat. Kat, wake up. We have arrived.” I crack one eye open. Edward is leaning over me, that damned gorgeous face of his too close for comfort. I feel a fierce blush rising in my cheeks. I scramble up and try to put some distance between us.

  “Where are we now?”

  He smiles. “Enrilth, my childhood home. I’ve always longed to show it to you.” Then he takes a deep breath. “I am well aware that you do not remember anything about me, or us, but until we can figure out what has caused your memory loss and how we can deal with it, I fear that we must act as a couple in front of others. As the notorious royal family, I guarantee there are plenty who will take advantage, or even bring harm to you, should your condition be widely known.”

  I bite my lower lip. I admit that his suggestion makes sense, but it makes me uneasy. In every romance I’ve read, couples that pretend to be in love always end up together. But in my case, this is a risk I can’t afford unless I absolutely cannot help it. I already have Jason, and besides, I’ve got to get home.

  “Only in front of others.” I manage to keep my voice frosty. “When we are alone, you had better behave like a friend. Like a casual acquaintance.”

  He doesn’t even blink. “Certainly. As long as it is necessary.”

  I consider arguing with him about what constitutes as necessary, but my thoughts are interrupted by a rap on the door.

  “Your Highness.” The curt, no-nonsense voice of the young woman rings out from the other side of the door.

  Edward holds out his hand. I take it, and my heart beats faster when he wraps his fingers firmly over mine like he doesn’t want to ever let go.

  “Remember, her name is Amelie,” he whispers. “And Bertram is the man who looks like he has giant blood.”

  “Got it,” I whisper back, trying to ignore our joined hands. He held my hand earlier, but now that I’m aware that we must playact as a married couple, somehow, it’s more distracting.

  Amelie is waiting for us, a folded cloak in her arms.

  “It’s turning dark outside.” She hands me the cloak. “I heard it can get pretty chilly up here in the north.”

  No way do I want to catch a cold, which seems easy with my short-sleeved gown, so I thank her and draw the cloak around my shoulders. I fumble for a moment with the clasp—it’s fashioned in an intricate twist of brass and bronze, which proves to be difficult compared to the simple modern ones that I’m used to.

  “Allow me.” Edward reaches over and deftly fastens the clasp. Then he tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear and holds out his arm expectantly. “Ready?”

  All of this happens so fast that I’ve barely time to reflect on how he touches me so naturally, so easily, like he’s used to taking care of me. Amelie doesn’t even blink or offer any help, even though she’s supposed to be my maid.

  But since we’ve agreed to act like newlyweds, I can’t show any discomfort over the fact that a stranger is treating me like a cherished jewel. And the way he looks at me when he smooths back my hair—intense, affectionate, devoted, like I’m the only girl in his universe—I’m not even sure Jason has ever looked at me that way.

  Jason. What is he doing now? It’s been hours since I’ve disappeared from his bedroom. He must be worried sick about me. He probably even reported to the police. My heart twists with anxiety and fear. It won’t be long until Mom and Paige know I’m missing.

  I look away and focus on the place we’ve stopped at. I had expected a huge, magnificent station after all the grandeur I’ve experienced, but the station is actually quite small and quaint. It’s built almost entirely from logs, the fences are painted buttercup yellow, and the signs are hand-drawn, not printed. Ivy and honeysuckle hang from the roofs, the ends only a hand’s breadth from the fences.

  “There they are!” Someone shouts.

  Gathered behind one side of the fence are around a dozen people, including old and young, male and female. All of them are gawking at us in the same manner as the crowds during the carriage ride.

  “I thought I specifically requested not to have anyone line up for our arrival,” Edward says in a low voice.

  “No matter how you try to conceal your schedule, there’s bound to be gossip around the village,” Amelie says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Not to mention that the papers have widely reported where you chose to stay for your honeymoon.”

  “Three cheers for Prince Edward and his bride!” A man calls.

  The cheers echo through the air, followed by a smattering of applause and whistling.

  There’s nothing to do but to respond with more nodding and waving and smiling, but what I really want to do is run away. Whoever is supposed to be the real princess had better return, because this royal thing is getting on my nerves. I feel like an impostor, no matter what Edward says.

  Fortunately, because the station is so small, it takes little time to leave the platform and head outside, where a new carriage awaits. Bertram, the young man who looks like the Hulk with normal tanned skin, is holding the door open.

  “It’s all right, Kat,” Edward says. “The ride to our house is much shorter compared to the one around the city.”

  I don’t answer. All I want to do is look for any way I can escape. But the sun has gone down, the sky is a dreary gray, and I can already see several stars. Outside the station, there is just one lone cottage, and the rest is undeveloped plains. And with Bertram looking on, I doubt I’d have any chance of success. Edward himself, with his broad shoulders and six-feet stature, is impossible to get away from.

  I have no choice but to get on the carriage. The only comfort is that it is a normal one with a roof and curtains, so we're instantly invisible to the eager villagers.

  Once we’re in the carriage, I let go of Edward’s hand and scoot as far away from him as possible. I’ve wounded his feelings, but I’m already in a relationship. Briefly, I wonder if I should mention Jason so he’d stop treating me like I’m his wife, but will it work? He doesn’t seem the type who would back down. Besides, I don’t feel like imagining his expression if he learns that I’m already taken.

  “How long is this honeymoon thing?” I ask quickly before he can speak.

  “One week.” His tone is clipped and he doesn’t look at me. Can’t blame the guy.

  “And for the whole time, we’ll be here? In this Enrilth place?”

  “Correct.”

  My chances don’t look good. Enrilth seems pretty deserted, from what I can see out of the window. Cottages appear few and far between. On the road, there is nothing but carts and carriages. No traffic lights. It’s a bit puzzling that they have railways, but cars aren’t available yet. And apart from the train, I have yet to see anything that resembles modern civilization.

  I let out a frustrated sigh. I have to get back. I have an extra shift tomorrow! Our boss is going to be furious if I don’t show up, especially since we’re understaffed.

  But without any tangible help, what hope do I have of getting away?

  5

  It’s completely dark by the time we arrive at Enrilth House. The windows are bathed in a warm yellow glow—lamps? candles? I doubt electricity exists—allowing me to perceive a large, but not gig
antic, building. Wreaths of flowers decorate the walls and there’s ivy crawling over at least half of the entrance gates.

  Edward helps me out of the carriage, though with considerably less warmth. No brush of his fingertips against my skin, no solicitous voice asking if I’m all right, no affectionate look into my eyes. Which is how it should be. He’s a stranger. We haven’t even known each other for one day.

  A gust of wind cuts over my face, and I can’t help but nestle closer to Edward. Amelie wasn’t kidding about the colder weather here, and I have no doubt the temperature will drop further at night. Chicago has pretty harsh winters, but the chilly air here still makes me shiver. Edward says nothing, but he puts a hand against the small of my back, urging me to get inside quickly.

  Enrilth House isn’t exactly the kind of place that I’d expect a royal couple to be staying for their honeymoon. The cozy interior is more like a bed-and-breakfast place. No glittering chandeliers, marble floors, or gilt-edged furniture. After the splendid procession we had when touring the city and the luxurious car on the train that oozes wealth, this is somewhat of a surprise.

  “Is this where you spent your childhood?”

  “Disappointed?”

  “Oh no, it’s much better this way. I don’t think I’d be able to relax if everything were marble and gold. I’m just surprised that given you are a prince, you didn’t grow up in some place fancier.”

  “It was my parents’ wish to focus on simplicity and comfort over an overt display of wealth, so when my father was still the prince, he chose to build this house and settle here during the summers.” Edward steers me toward the living room and indicates that I settle on a dark green couch before taking a chair across from me. The large brick fireplace in the sitting room has a homey, country feel to it. A few paintings adorn the top of the fireplace. One, in particular, catches my eye—an extremely handsome man, whom I suspect is where Edward gets his looks from.