by Aya Ling
19
Edward’s theory is working. My memory has been returning to me in bits and pieces ever since I started going to the places that I’m familiar with when I was still in Athelia seven years ago. It’s great fun, as I get to immerse myself in the settings I’ve read in The Ugly Stepsister firsthand. I visited the greenhouse and had an actual meeting with Galen, I went to Edward’s private garden and found it just as beautiful as the book described, and I rode in the carriage with Bertram holding the reins and took tours in the city.
Although I told Edward that flowers and chocolates weren’t required for our “courtship,” he decided to go ahead and shower me with flowers and chocolates anyway. Probably because flowers happen to be his area of expertise, and he knows that chocolate is one of my favorite foods, right up there with grilled ham and cheese sandwiches and bold, full-flavored milk tea.
One day, when I settle down to the tedious letter-writing and reading the paper, I find an enormous box of chocolates sitting on my desk.
“There must be enough to feed an army,” I mutter, making a decision to share them with Amelie and Mabel. No way can I finish them by myself.
Once I open the box, which is gorgeously wrapped in red ribbons and layered with paper tissues, a memory flashes into my mind. I remember Sideburn Sidney, one of Bianca’s suitors, and how I had encouraged him to send Bianca gourmet chocolates, which eventually ended up in my own stomach. And when I bite into one delicate truffle shaped like a rose, more memories come up, such as my trying to come up with schemes to annoy Bianca so she’d be swamped with suitors and have no time to go after Edward. It’s like Proust dipping a Madeleine cake into his tea and memories of the past springing into his mind, only in my case, it’s a lot less romantic.
Giggles and squeals come from the direction of my bedroom. It must be my maids—they come daily to deliver freshly ironed clothes and clean up the room. I gather the half-opened box and head to the bedroom.
“Princess!” Mabel’s grin widens and she points at my bedspread. “Do come and see what His Highness got for you!”
Something in her giggling face tells me it can’t be a good thing—not by my definition, anyway.
My curiosity piqued, I hand her the box. Luckily, I did so, because I might have dropped the chocolates. A mass of crimson rose petals are arranged in a heart-shape on the cream-colored bedspread.
“What the...” When did he sneak in my bedroom? Having flowers in the suite is nothing new. Every day, I’d find new vases placed in corners and on tables, overflowing with lavender and violets and starflowers. But this . . . I feel like crawling under the bed to hide my embarrassment.
“’Tis so romantic of our prince,” Mabel sighs. “Didn’t expect that he’d know what a heart shape is. He always looks so serious. Aren’t you frightfully pleased, Your Highness? I’d jump over the moon if a man did this for me.”
“It’s time you take the rugs out for a good shaking,” I say, but I’m sure my face is scarlet. Only Amelie manages to keep a straight face, a cotton handkerchief tied around her face. I learn later that she’s allergic to flowers. Sometimes, I wonder if a goblin had cast a spell over her that destroyed every romantic bone in her body.
But it’s not just the flowers and chocolates that get me. Those gestures are sweet, of course, but nothing is better than spending quality time with Edward. Since my memory has been gradually returning, Edward stops drilling me in Athelian culture and replaces the nightly lessons with nightly conversations. We sit in my study—he takes the sofa while I lounge on the window seat—and talk. I finally learn how old he is (twenty-two, thankfully not much younger than me), and when his birthday is. He tells me about his childhood, his tutors, his friendship with Henry, and even his lack of confidence when he was overshadowed by his older cousin, Philip.
“My grandparents, uncles and aunts have always favored him. His ebullient character, plus his love of sports, are more likely to find support among the people. As you may have sensed already, I have more of an introverted nature. If required, I will perform social duties and attend events, but if given the choice, I would rather not appear in public.”
“I so understand,” I say, drawing an amused grin from him. He always seems to find my modern phrases ‘quirky and charming,’ even though I’m not trying to impress him. “That’s why I prefer to read. I’d go up to a podium and make a presentation in class, but I’m most at ease with a book.”
“As I am with my garden.” He smiles—a heart-melting, knee-weakening smile that I realize I had seen frequently, long before the wedding. And even if I don’t remember the magnetism of his smile, I can’t deny there’s a connection between us, and it’s occurring more and more frequently.
Edward leans a bit closer and fixes his gaze on my face, his eyes brimming with warmth and attention. “Tell me what kind of presentation you perform in your world.”
I brief him on college life—he’s hugely curious about how a girl can receive higher education along with boys. In Athelia, there were only boys’ schools until Elle and I established one for girls. I describe to him the exhausting schedule of juggling classes, clubs, finances, and a social life.
“A club?” He frowns. “How does a club work in your university? What kind of club did you join?”
I suppress a smile. Tara dragged me to the karate club because she had a crush on the hot mixed-Asian instructor. To my surprise, I found I enjoyed the lessons, and even after I graduated, I continued to practice and take classes whenever I could.
“Self-defense.”
“They taught you fighting at school?” Edward lets out a low whistle. “Every time I think I know all the skills you possess, you surprise me with another.”
“Intimidated?” I cock an eyebrow.
He laughs. “Not in the least. If anything, I’d feel safer when you are not in the palace. Can you show me how you fight?”
Since I’m in my nightgown, I can’t very well kick at him, but I demonstrate a few punches. I can’t do a knee smash or a shoulder throw, but I show him how to do a knife-hand to the throat, a back fist, and an elbow smash.
“And this is a crane’s beak,” I say, curling my fingers to shape my hand into the beak.
“And how do you attack with that?”
“Aim for soft targets like the eye or neck,” I say. “Don’t underestimate the fingertips. They can be surprisingly effective.”
I show him the move, but when my fingers brush over his eyes, I pause. In the dim light, up close, there are distinct dark circles under his eyes. It occurs to me that every morning, no matter how soon I am dressed, he is always waiting in our sitting room, reading the paper, ready to go down to breakfast.
“Edward. How early are you getting up each day?”
“It is of little importance.”
“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to lie awake all night to find out. Yes, don’t look amused—I will be able to stay awake, if only to find out when you go to bed.”
He sighs. “All right. Five, or six, if you really want to know.”
“And when do you go to bed?” I narrow my eyes. Our nightly talks usually don’t last past midnight, but I doubt he goes straight to bed after we finish.
Edward looks away. “Recently, we have been handling more issues than usual. It’s the height of the Season right now, and Parliament is anxious to deal with as much as possible before it’s over.”
“The public health acts you’ve been working on with Henry? Such as that Food and Drugs Act?”
He raises an eyebrow. “You knew already?”
“Elle told me. Anyway, you should be going to bed earlier,” I say, doing a good imitation of Mom when she found me staying up the day before my SATs. “Really, there is no need for us to sit up so late every night. It’s far more important that you take care of yourself.”
“I want to spend more time with you,” he insists. “Don’t worry about me. The Season will be over soon. It is no hardship to sit here and talk to
you. For me, it’s an opportunity to relax and be entertained.”
I recognize the same desperation in his tone from that day when we quarreled. Like, if he doesn’t grasp this chance to make me fall for him, then I’ll go home once Krev comes back.
I change the topic, but at the same time, I also make a decision. A highly unconventional, unheard-of move that might get me kicked out of the palace if I weren’t the princess.
20
Edward is barely visible behind a mountain of paperwork when I barge into his office on the other side of the palace. As expected, he looks astonished when my flat soles click on the marble floor, the sound fading into dull thuds when I step on a carpet embroidered with intricate patterns and the royal coat of arms.
“What are you doing here?” He darts a glance behind me, and his eyes widen. “Why is he with you?”
I grin and beckon to the person following me. “Over here, Bertram. Right next to His Highness’s desk.”
Bertram gives Edward a she-made-me-do-it look before setting a handsome desk carved of polished oak, with golden handles for the drawers, on the floor, along with a matching chair. I produce a cloth from a basket I’m carrying and proceed to wipe the desk and chair.
Frantic footsteps pound outside, and the chamberlain bursts into the room, bristling, the ends of his finely curled mustache pointing in the air.
“Princess Katriona! So, the servants weren’t lying when they talked of you entering the prince’s office with a . . . a table and chair?” He mops his forehead with a large handkerchief. “May I inquire the reason for this extraordinary transgression?”
“I decided my husband could use some assistance.” I set the basket on the desk and take out pens, paper, and a few books.
The poor chamberlain almost chokes as he speaks. “A–assistance, Your Highness? But you shouldn’t be here!”
I pick up one of the books and flip through the pages. “I’ve checked the rules of the royal household. There isn’t a rule that says the princess can’t work in the same office with the prince.”
“This isn’t child’s play!”
“I’m not a child. Anyway, I promise you that the door will remain open. We won’t be up to anything depraved in here.”
Edward raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t speak.
I finish unpacking my basket. “Excuse me, lord chamberlain.” I look him squarely in the eye and raise my voice. “Didn’t you tell me that a woman’s place is by her husband’s side?”
For an entirety of three seconds, the chamberlain is speechless. Then he stomps off, muttering about since when did Athelia get such an unconventional princess. I slide into my seat, unable to stop grinning. The look on his face was priceless. And oh, how satisfying it is to throw his words in his face.
“Kat.” Edward pushes back his chair. “What are you doing?”
“Settling into my new routine.”
“Allow me to rephrase that. What are you planning? What is this new routine you speak of?”
“Well.” I flash him a cheeky grin. “You’ve been working yourself to death with all those social problems. I’m bored because there is no Internet—I mean, I have little to do apart from raiding the library. So, I decided I would keep you company instead. Or, should I say, lessen your workload.”
Edward stares at me, dumbfounded. “Elaborate.”
“I took the liberty of going through some of the papers you’ve been working on.” I spread my hands. “I’ve got a college education in literature, and I took some classes in economics and social studies. I could help you summarize documents, look up resources, and proofread your writing. Besides, before we married, we had worked together to improve the lives of our citizens. I could be your sounding board. Throw me out if you’d like, but we’re not having those nightly talks anymore. You must rest.”
He is silent for a long moment. Then he exhales. “I don’t mind—of course I don’t mind you staying. There’s no doubt that traditional duties fail to satisfy you, but you’ve got it wrong. My sleepless nights have nothing to do with our conversations. It’s because—” He stops abruptly.
Another man approaches the office. It’s Sir George, who acts as Edward’s secretary. He frowns when he sees me and my desk, but after glancing at my husband, George seems to swallow whatever question he has in the back of his mind. He steps forward and holds out a long, flat envelope.
“His Majesty requests that you review the itinerary of the Moryn emperor’s State Visit. If there are no objections, His Majesty would like for the preparations to commence.”
“Thank you, George. I shall look it over and have it back to you before dinner.” The secretary gives me a curt nod and leaves. He is so different from the lord chamberlain. George personifies the stereotypical image of an English butler—stoic, discreet, keeping himself invisible like walking furniture.
“The Moryn emperor is coming?” I say. From the tour of Enrilth Castle, books in the palace library, and personal experience related by Edward, I know enough of Moryn that’s required of me. And that’s what makes me surprised, and even a bit angry. “Why didn’t I know about this?”
He hands me the envelope. “I was going to tell you when the schedule was finalized.”
I slide out the contents of the envelope. There is an invitation printed on a high-quality card embellished with the crimson and gold royal emblem. The emperor’s name, Augustin, is printed along with his fiancé, Simone.
“Augustin originally planned to come to our wedding,” Edward says. “However, a mob uprising occurred at the capital and he couldn’t leave until it was taken care of. Hence, my father decided to invite him for a later visit.”
I scan over the events that will take place during the State Visit. There will be a military review at the royal park, an Investiture of the Order of the Garter, a diplomatic levee at the Moryn embassy, and a concert followed by a ball.
Since I have no idea what an investiture means, nor of a levee, I ask Edward for an explanation. Luckily, in most cases, the king performs the main duties. All we have to do is stand by and watch. When Edward reaches the last event, he pauses and looks at me.
“Do you remember how to dance?”
Oh no. With a sinking heart, I realize that even if I have fully recovered my memory, I’d still need practice with dancing. After I accepted Edward’s proposal at the ball, I didn’t get many chances to dance, as the Season had concluded. Balls and dances in fall and winter were infrequent, and besides, I’ve never been good at dancing.
Edward seems to guess what’s going on in my mind. “In that case,” he says slowly, “I shall have to teach you.”
I gulp. “I . . . I’m sure Madame Dubois can help me.” Madame Dubois was my etiquette teacher when I moved into the palace.
He chuckles. “I thought you were fed up with her bossing you around.” He leans even closer, so close that his breath fans my cheek. “Besides, she is currently vacationing in the north. I doubt it would be a good idea to summon her solely for extra lessons, when everyone assumes you are already familiar with dancing. Don’t worry, Kat. We shall practice in my garden, where no one can bother us.”
That means we’ll be alone. ALONE. Not that I’m against the idea—indeed, dancing in that beautifully laid out garden is perhaps the most romantic thing ever—but it also means that I’ll be getting more and more attached to the prince. To Athelia. It’s an idea that I’ve been trying to resist.
But what else can I do but say yes? As princess, I can’t hide away in a corner and be a wallflower, something that used to occur when I was still Katriona Bradshaw, the younger, less attractive sister. I may even be required to dance with the Moryn emperor, and it’ll be so embarrassing if I step on his toes.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Good. I cannot wait to have you in my arms.” Edward watches me, his smirk still hovering near his lips. “I will arrange with George to block out two hours in the afternoon, thrice a week. Unless in the case of emergency, those
two hours shall not be disturbed.”
He resumes his drafting of some tedious memorandum for a foreign country. I stare at the invitation, still lying on the table.
Some raw, inexplicable emotion stirs in my heart. Falling for him is not a good thing, considering Athelia’s society and culture are definitely not female-friendly, and being with him means that I’ll never see my family and friends again. But the truth is that I am falling for him, no matter how reluctant I am or how hard I try to fight it.
21
I descend the stairs leading to the courtyard and wipe sweat from my brow. It has been an uncommonly hot day, and I really wish that I could get into an air-conditioned car and drive away. However, in Athelia, I have to settle for an open-air carriage and a fan, which will not provide me shelter from the dust on the roads. I doubt it’ll do much to alleviate the heat, but considering that most citizens are on foot, I can't complain. I duck into the carriage and give Bertram a smile. “Let’s go.”
It’s the day of the school board meeting at Princess College, the girls’ school that Elle and I established prior to my wedding. As the head patron, my presence is required. Thank God that I’ve gained most of my memories by now.
The carriage stops at a handsome stone building. Again, the familiar jolt occurs in my head. It feels like another crack has appeared in the barrier that’s keeping my memories from me, and sooner or later, the multiple cracks will break down the barrier and I’ll remember everything.
I wander through the corridors as old memories spring in my mind, falling into place like jigsaw puzzle pieces. The Ugly Stepsister never mentioned the school, since the book ended at my marriage, but I do remember going down the hallway with Elle, discussing how to design the interior, how to implement the classes, how to advertise, etc. Princess College reminds me of Miss Minchin’s Seminary in A Little Princess, with an old-fashioned elegance that I find really charming.
