Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales Book 2)

by Aya Ling

  “The lifestyle of a duchess . . .” I glance at the sitting room, which is the most magnificent place I’ve been in. Friezes the color of pine trees decorate the walls, rock-crystal chandeliers hang from the rococo style ceiling, and red velvet armchairs are placed in front of a huge marble fireplace. Roses and heliotropes are everywhere, tastefully arranged in vases made of lapis-lazuli. It feels like I’m in a five-star Renaissance-style hotel. I wonder if I can adapt to the lifestyle of a princess.

  “One reason is that Elle, being a former servant herself, is incapable of growing out of her role. She prefers to do tasks herself instead of delegating, supervising, or even giving orders.”

  I nod. I was also uncomfortable at Enrilth, seeing servants lugging pails of hot water up and down the stairs, all because they were preparing my bath.

  “Why is the duchess so against Elle’s . . . un-duchess behavior? She’s no longer a servant, she’s pretty and nice, and she is clearly attracted to Henry.”

  Edward sighs. “Do you know why there are so many rules for the aristocrats?”

  Because they’re nuts? “Because it’s tradition and they don’t want to change?”

  “There has been a number of tradesmen striking gold in business. Some of them earn enough to rival a nobleman’s fortune,” Edward says slowly. “But the aristocracy wish to keep their circle exclusive. And so, they established numerous rules, such as what to observe when paying calls, what to wear for different meals and occasions, and what to write when corresponding. Failure to heed these codes of etiquette is a sign of ill breeding, and so, no matter how much you may make in mining or railroad stock, you will not be regarded as one of their crowd.”

  “Got it.” I feel like I’m in history class.

  “Another reason that could have made Lady Petunia uncommonly determined to adhere to tradition is because of Henry himself. His desire to be a doctor is not what a man of his station would do. An aristocrat does not work for a living. The taxes he collects from his lands would be sufficient. Therefore, Lady Petunia hopes that his bride might influence him and steer him in the right direction of a duke.”

  I have to smile. “Elle certainly is the exact opposite of her ideal daughter-in-law. But your family doesn’t seem to have a problem with my behavior.”

  Edward grins. “They are more inclined to upholding middle-class values. Don’t you worry, love. Rest assured that you will always have my family’s support, as well as mine.”

  He’s getting that heated look in his eyes again. I fish around for something else to say in case he starts advancing on me again.

  “Hey, Edward . . . I mean, Edward. Do you mind telling me more about Athelia? I still can’t remember anything, and I’m worried I might blunder again. You stopped me from blabbing at dinner, but what if you’re not with me?”

  He presses his lips together as realization sinks in. “That certainly is a concern. It would be highly undesirable for people to know you are mentally inflicted, especially when my grandfather is known to have gone mad. Let us proceed to the study, and I shall procure some books for you.”

  12

  “Wake up, Your Highness.”

  I stir and burrow further into the pillow.

  “Wake up!”

  The curtain is pulled apart, and bright sunlight streams into the bedroom. I throw up a hand to shield my eyes.

  Amelie tosses a pile of clothes on the bed. “It’s a quarter past seven. His Highness is already up and dressed.”

  I grumble under my breath. It’s the weekend, and I can’t even hit snooze on my alarm clock. Here in Athelia, my maid is a human-sized alarm. I don’t know how Edward manages it. I didn’t get to sleep until two in the morning, as I’m still cramming Athelian culture, doing my best to appear that I have my memories intact.

  I roll out of bed. It’s a relief that the palace has modern plumbing, complete with running taps and flushing toilets. It’s also a relief to get some privacy. I can bathe by myself without a dozen servants hanging around. Yawning, I stumble through the door and run into a solid wall.

  “Good morning, dear wife.”

  I look up to see Edward, looking absolutely tempting in his pristine white shirt and black trousers. Images of the previous night come rushing back to me of how he had lost control and tried to kiss me. If I didn’t come up with using Henry’s name in time, I’m not sure how far he could have gone. Anyway, I have to keep him at arm’s length. No way am I going to leave Jason for a guy I’ve only known for a week. I hope that Krev will hurry up and come take me home.

  “Good morning,” I say, ignoring his proffered hand. I open the door and start down the hallway.

  Edward grabs my arm. “Do you even know where you’re going? The dining room is the other way.”

  “Oops, my bad. Thanks.” Discreetly, I yank my arm back. The problem with having no memory is that I can’t even find a room by myself.

  Edward takes my hand again. His grip is firm, and I can feel his wedding ring brush against mine. “Remember, we are newlyweds. It is rare that I should walk down the hallway without holding your hand.” His breath is warm against my ear. “Act like we are deeply attached to each other.”

  “I . . .” It’s so hard not to blush. “I’m a lousy actor.”

  “Nor am I good at faking my emotions. I can conceal, but I cannot contrive. Fortunately, I do not need to act.”

  I feel like holding up a sign saying, No flirting when we’re alone.

  * * *

  Breakfast is scrumptious. The amount can’t compare to the dozen-course dinner we had with the nobles last night, but every dish screams high-class, from the delicate salmon rolls topped with cream cheese, the butter shaped like roses, and the flaky croissants, to the freshly brewed coffee with a latte art of a crown on top. I’ve come a long way from making coffee in a ten-dollar machine at home.

  It’s a pity that I can’t fully enjoy the food, for I’m still sleepy after the tiring day yesterday, starting from the train journey to the Athelian lesson at night.

  “Katriona? Are you feeling all right?” The queen asks after I yawn for the third time.

  “I’m fine,” I answer without thinking. “It’s just that Edward kept me up last night . . .”

  I shut my mouth like a clam, realizing the implication of my words. The king drops his fork and the queen spills her tea. Edward, on the other hand, is trying to contain his laughter, judging by how his shoulders are shaking.

  “Stop it,” I whisper and jab my elbow into his arm, but the mirth remains in his eyes. Behind us, a servant’s eye twitches. Perhaps I should have pretended nothing happened. After all, I have a royal dignity to maintain.

  Needless to say, I’m so glad when breakfast is over, and not just because I feel like catching up on lost sleep.

  Sweeping back to the suite, I try to look gracious and walk gracefully as the royal princess I’m supposed to be. Edward has to go to a council meeting with the king—I hope he's bored to death. Servants bow and curtsy when I pass, making me feel uncomfortable. There were house maids at Enrilth house, but they appeared to be more relaxed and carefree, while here in the palace, everyone is disciplined, formal, and well-trained. I feel like I’ve moved from a comfortable middle-class bed-and-breakfast place to the penthouse suite in an expensive Manhattan apartment building.

  “Princess?” Amelie’s voice interrupts me from my thoughts. “The suite is this way.”

  I give myself a mental shake. No matter when Krev may return, I’ve got to get my memory back. I’d do well to start by learning my way around the palace.

  When I step into my room, I gasp. An avalanche of letters sits in our office. Amelie, who follows me into the room, places a mug of hot coffee on the gilt-edged mahogany desk and checks the pens and inkstand.

  “There’s no need to grimace, Your Highness,” she says briskly. “You are now officially the princess. Besides, it isn’t as bad as you may think, for this is the accumulation of one week’s worth of letters. Two h
undred and fifty-one, to be exact.”

  That’s even more than the unread emails in my laptop.

  “I need to see your dressmakers, so I had better be off. If you need anything, all you need is to ring up someone else.” She points to a polished silver bell lying next to the lamp.

  Amelie shuts the door. I scan the multiple stacks of letters, which are skillfully arranged according to their sizes, and consider tossing everything into the wastebasket. A tempting thought that lasts for . . . one second.

  With a sigh, I plop on the mahogany chair in front of the desk. Just staring at the envelopes is making me feel tired already. I decide to start by sorting the letters first and then deciding which ones deserve priority. Pity I can’t tag or color code them like emails.

  My feet are feeling constricted by the leather boots I’m wearing—is it possible that my feet became larger during the seven years I was back in Chicago? Or maybe Katriona had smaller feet. I hope they don’t have foot-binding here in Athelia. The corset is already a pain around my ribs.

  “You are cordially invited to the costume party hosted by Lady Mansfield . . .”

  “Your presence would be greatly appreciated at our grand opening . . .”

  “We have reserved a special box in our theatre, and would be deeply honored if you would grace the opening night with your presence . . .”

  Wow. I’m well on my way to becoming a social butterfly. Right. Lacking grace or charm, I feel more like a caterpillar that suddenly grew wings.

  Is this going to be my future life? Endless parties and balls and openings and operas and plays? Am I really cut out to be a royal figure in this old-fashioned country?

  Not all the letters are flattering. Turns out that being princess also means attracting a huge amount of junk mail. A few ask my opinion on current fashions, or does Edward snore when he sleeps—do they have privacy laws here?—or whether court presentations should start earlier in the day. Do I get to choose?

  And, perhaps not surprising, hate mail that calls me a witch, a femme fatale, a fraud, and that I must have performed a seduction spell on the prince.

  “Poor Edward, tethered to such a plain creature like you. It is a sore to the eyes seeing you sitting next to him on the carriage. I pity the child that takes after you.”

  Geez, overzealous fans exist in Athelia as well.

  “The prince is the one doing the tethering,” I mutter, crumpling up the letter and tossing it into the wastebasket.

  One letter does catch my attention. It’s hastily written, but the tone is warm and friendly, unlike the nauseatingly polite, formal wordiness of non-hate mail.

  Dearest Kat, how happy I am that you finally married our prince! You looked lovely at the wedding, like a dream. Was your dress too tight? We were so shocked when you fainted after the ceremony was performed. Hope you’re feeling better now. Enrilth is well-known as a relaxing getaway. I’d love to visit some time, but Jonathan insists I stay at home until the baby is born. Yours affectionately, Poppy.

  Poppy. I remember her as Katriona’s best friend in the book. She eloped with a lawyer, and Katriona even offered to be a witness at the runaway wedding. Now she’s already expecting?

  I rub my forehead. Edward has also mentioned that Poppy is the only other one whom I’ve divulged my real identity to. Given that I chose to marry Edward and stayed nine months at the palace till the wedding, I guess Poppy no longer remembers what I told her. She probably thought I was making things up.

  I rest my chin on propped hands and sigh. It’s nice to know that I have a real friend in Athelia, but I doubt it’ll be a good idea to visit her. If she were my best friend, undoubtedly, we had shared a lot of stuff together. Poppy would be concerned or even suspicious if I act like I don’t remember our past.

  How much longer will it take before I can see Krev again?

  I snag a piece of paper—gilt-edged, scented, with a fancy emblem on top—and start jotting down the number of days I’ve been in Athelia and connecting them to the days in America. I’ve been in Athelia for ten days. I guess my part-time job is as good as lost to me by now. As for Jason—I don’t even want to think about what he’s feeling now.

  A blot of ink hits the paper, smudging a few of the dates, but I’ve already worked out that Paige’s graduation ceremony is only a week away. I promised I’d be at her graduation.

  I don’t want to get used to court life. Yes, I know I’m lucky to have all those fancy dresses and having servants wait on me. But I’m too used to a middle-class lifestyle to enjoy those privileges. Honestly speaking, I feel useless that I can’t even dress myself or do my own hair. Plus, I have no interest in socializing all day long. Even just sitting in that carriage, waving and smiling to the crowds, feels so awkward and shallow and boring.

  More than ever, I want to leave Athelia, leave this overwhelming royal lifestyle. I want to be able to grab a coffee from Intelligentsia rather than ringing a bell for a maid. I want to waltz inside H&M and take my pick among racks of ready-made clothes instead of being taken to the tailors and seamstresses, who scrutinize and measure me like I’m some weird insect under a microscope. I want to go out on dates and get to know a hot guy better before committing myself to a relationship, rather than having one who is continuously reminding me that I belong to him.

  A tear runs down my face, and I don’t bother to wipe it away.

  I want a normal life. I want to go home.

  13

  The sound of the door of our suite opening and closing disrupts my writing. I quickly crumple up the paper that contains the American dates and toss it into the wastepaper basket.

  I wipe away my tears as fast as I can. “Come in.”

  Edward enters, and his gaze seems to soften when he sees me bent in front of the desk like I belong here.

  “Hey.” I look up at him and attempt a fake smile. “So, you’re finished with your meetings and discussions already?”

  “There is never an end unless I relinquish my claim to the throne. It is a luxury I am not allowed, being the only son. However, I’m allowed to have a break while morning tea is served.”

  Oh yes, Athelians are obsessed with tea time. How they manage to have morning tea and afternoon tea plus three meals a day, I will never comprehend.

  “How are you faring, dear wife?”

  “Great.” I gesture toward the stacks of letters. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more popular in my whole life.”

  He doesn’t miss the sarcasm in my tone. “I wish that my position would not bring you this much extra work, Kat. Could you set aside those you have problems with? I have some free time this afternoon and will be able to assist you with them. Once you have regained your memory, you will be better equipped to deal with the letters.”

  I wonder how long it will take. I still can’t remember a thing. Every time I try to think, my head aches. So far, I’ve managed to fool others, thanks to my knowing the book by heart and Edward stepping in or giving hints. Amelie probably has suspicions that I’m not quite the same, but she gives no sign of being concerned about it. But now that we’ve returned to the palace, where there are a lot more people who have interacted with me previously . . . I’m not sure how much longer we can keep up the charade if my memory doesn’t return.

  Edward holds his hand out to me, a gesture that I’ve become extremely familiar with over the short time I’ve met him. I’m somewhat surprised, since he usually extends his hand when we’re about to enter a carriage or begin a meal.

  “May I request the pleasure of your company?”

  “Sure.” Bemused, I stand up and take his hand. “But what’s with the formality? I mean, I’m supposed to be your wife, but—”

  “Certainly, love. If you wish less formality between us, I shall be happy to cede to your request.” He moves closer, his eyes gleaming, like he’s ready to ‘cede’ to my request right away.

  “No, that’s not what I meant! It’s just your way of speaking. I don’t think I can ever get
used to your royal style. Like this.” I imitate his father, extending my arm and striking up a majestic air that only makes him laugh.

  “Oh, Kat,” he sighs, his gaze brimming with warmth. “You’re simply too precious. I don’t know how I ever agreed to let you leave.”

  “Where are we going?” I quickly say, anxious to change the subject. Guess he decided to ditch the ‘no flirting while we’re alone’ rule.

  “To your favorite place in the palace.”

  “You have a library in here?” I ask, incredulous.

  He raises an eyebrow. Looks like I guessed correctly.

  “The second largest in the country, after the one in the University. But while the latter holds mostly academic literature, you’ll find more books to your liking at the palace. I took the liberty of ordering books from your favorite authors.”

  Now my curiosity is roused. What kind of books did I read when I was here? I doubt Athelia could match up to the plethora of books I’m exposed to in modern life.

  I quicken my pace, eager to see this library. Edward chuckles, and there is warmth in his eyes as he guides me through a corridor.

  When Edward opens the door and I step inside, it feels like I’m entering a completely different world. For a second, I feel like I could stay in Athelia, if only for this magnificent library.

  Edward touches my arm. “Does this place seem familiar to you?” he whispers.

  I glance at the frescoed ceiling, the tall windows, and the ladders against the shelves. It does seem familiar, but maybe it’s because the library resembles the one in Beauty and the Beast.

  “Do you remember visiting this library many, many times and leaving with your arms full of books?”

  I blink. This time, I stare with all my might at my surroundings—the winding staircase that leads to the second floor, the ladders that reach up to the ceiling, the tall windows that look out to the bright blue sky, the golden reading lamps with dark green lampshades, and the low sofas installed near the windows.