Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales Book 2)

by Aya Ling

“I’ll come back some other time,” Elle says, smiling. “Please relay the happy news for me.”

  Edward gives her a nod, but it’s clear from his expression that he wants to be alone with me. When I look at him closely, I notice that he looks exhausted, like someone made him sit through a five-hour-long meeting.

  “I’m sorry,” I say without thinking. “Trust me, I have no idea how it happened. I never knew that Katriona Bradshaw existed. I thought I came back into her body, but it turned out that she was still living somewhere.”

  He grabs my arm, pulling me into his lap. “I had a lengthy conversation with my parents. They asked if I knew I was married to a commoner. I told them that I didn’t care whether you were a lady or a servant. All I want is you.”

  “Did the Bradshaws leave?”

  “Katriona Bradshaw is assigned to a room downstairs and a guard stationed at her door. Father also suggested that you be relocated, but I told him that anyone who tries to remove you from our suite has to get past me first.” He presses his forehead on mine, and I cling to him, as if the next second the guards will burst in and take me away. “I promise you I am not going to let you go. Even if it means that I have to abdicate, I will not give you up. Never.”

  He captures my lips in a deep, lingering kiss. It lasts so long that I have to push him away because I can’t breathe. I cough, reaching for a glass of water, my head dizzy. “Sorry,” Edward says a bit sheepishly. “When it comes to you, it sometimes seems that all the discipline I have is sorely tested.”

  I don’t answer. My mind is blank, and there’s a strange feeling that something isn’t quite right with me.

  We don’t hear from the Bradshaws for a few days. Amazingly, there hasn’t been much news about Katriona looking like me. And that’s when disaster strikes.

  Three days later, I receive an urgent letter when I’m having breakfast in the suite. It is from the High Court, summoning me. Bianca has accused me of fraud.

  I am to appear at court.

  42

  Bianca has charged me by filing a writ of identity theft. It feels like the world is crumbling around me—my identity as princess is going to be ruthlessly torn away from me, and I have no right to stay in the palace any more. My hands are cold and clammy, and I feel like throwing up when I imagine going to court.

  Edward had gone white when he read the letter. “If I had the power,” he says quietly, though his tone carries a determination of iron, “I would banish Bianca Bradshaw to the mountains up north, never to return.”

  “Well,” I say, trying to cheer him up. Even though I am scared stiff myself, for Edward’s sake I’ve got to act calm and unaffected. Like Amelie. “Since I have to appear in court, I might as well figure out the best way to deal with it. Am I allowed to have a lawyer represent me?”

  Edward rubs his chin, his eyes thoughtful. “Let me check. Frankly speaking, I am not well acquainted with such legal matters. The last time a royal member of the family had to appear in court was hundreds of years ago.”

  “So it’s done already? Too bad.” I try to look disappointed. “I thought I was setting a precedent.”

  He doesn’t smile, though. “You are a precedent, love. In so many ways.”

  It turns out that yes, I am allowed to have a lawyer, and even though it’s literally unheard of for a princess to be accused of a crime, the law still exists anyway. I am to appear in High Court, a privilege of the peers and royals. In Athelia, the commoners and the aristocracy are tried in different courts, which means that the latter is rarely convicted, but in my case, I’m not so sure.

  “Do you suppose Mr. Davenport could take my case? There are other lawyers who are more well-known than he is, but I can’t tell them the truth.”

  “We must ask him,” Edward says. “But I believe that as a friend and loyal subject, he will not refuse.”

  * * *

  We have no problem asking Mr. Davenport to defend me. To my surprise, Poppy accompanies Mr. Davenport when we schedule a meeting at my study. She rushes to me and takes my hands, concern written all over her round face. Gratitude fills my heart—she looks exhausted, most likely from taking care of the twins, but she still came to see me. “Kat! How dreadful it is to have this happen to you!”

  “How are you able to get away from Sebastian and Little Katriona?”

  “They’re fine. My parents and in-laws have arrived, and I’m positive the four of them will take excellent care of the twins.” Poppy spreads out a newspaper on the table. “Oh my God, Kat. You’ll probably need special transportation to get to court, because there certainly is going to be a crowd.”

  I had already read the paper in the morning, but the headlines still make me cringe. ‘Who is Princess Katriona?’ ‘Lady Pembroke Accuses the Princess of Identity Theft.’ ‘Stranger Than Fiction: a Royal Scandal of The Woman in Red.’

  Edward shows Mr. Davenport to my desk, while Poppy huddles with me on the window seat. The door to our suite is locked, and Edward orders that no one, not even Amelie or Mabel, may enter.

  Mr. Davenport pulls out a yellow pad and a fountain pen, along with a few thick leather-bound books on marriage law and royals. “Let’s not waste any time. Katriona, pardon me for asking you this, but you are Katriona Bradshaw?”

  I meet Poppy’s eyes, glance at Edward, and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

  Mr. Davenport’s eyebrows shoot toward his forehead. “Are you telling me that you are guilty of the charge?”

  Poppy hangs her head. “I’m sorry as well, Jonathan. I promised you that there will be no secrets between us, but you see, I couldn’t tell you about something like this.”

  Edward folds his arms. “Just tell us the best approach to take.”

  Mr. Davenport clears his throat. “In that case, we need to consider if there are any mitigating circumstances. For example, if Katriona—”

  “Katherine,” I say. “My real name is Katherine Wilson.”

  Mr. Davenport blinks. “Katherine, then. How did this happen to you? Why did you choose to masquerade as Katriona Bradshaw?” He glances at Edward. “Your Highness, did you know about this recently?”

  “I have known it for more than a year.”

  Mr. Davenport looks astonished. “Your Highness, this is…unheard of.”

  Edward looks at me, and his gaze is mixed with love and pain. “There were certain special circumstances, which are too complicated to explain. I beg you, Jonathan, to find a way that will pardon Kat and make her suffer as little as possible. If it helps, shift the blame onto me. As an accomplice, I cannot escape censure either.”

  “No,” I say immediately. “Don’t let the people lose their trust in you, Edward. You’re not going to be punished for my sake.”

  “It’s mostly my fault. I knew you weren’t Katriona Bradshaw, but I insisted on marrying you. I should have foreseen the possibility that you would be discovered.”

  “How could you have predicted this? Edward, you are not going to tell the court that you knew my identity all along.”

  Mr. Davenport looks toward Poppy, apparently unsure what to do.

  “What happens after Kat gets her identity back?” Poppy asks. “The entire nation still thinks that the princess is called Katriona Bradshaw. All the neighboring countries also have you as Katriona Bradshaw in their records. It’s going to take a lot of effort to change and replace that with your real name.”

  “It would take even more than that,” Mr. Davenport says grimly. “I’m assuming that Katherine signed the name of Katriona Bradshaw on the wedding register. It is criminal to use someone’s name, especially in such an important event. Moreover, this would mean that His Highness is lawfully wedded to the other girl, the real Katriona Bradshaw.”

  Poppy gasps. “But that’s ridiculous! If we all wrote our names wrong, that would be a complete chaos.”

  “I also agree it is a faulty law. In Moryn, such a mistake would only render the marriage null and void,” Mr. Davenport says, regret in his tone
. “Originally, it was meant to ensure that the married couple would not regard the ceremony as a farce. But since more than one witness is required during the signing, it is almost impossible that the bride or groom will write the wrong name.”

  Edward’s palm lands on the table with a resounding thud. “I will not accept that woman as my wife. No one except Kat.”

  “Unfortunately, if Katherine has to admit that she isn’t Katriona Bradshaw, apart from the punishment that she will receive, she will lose her status as princess. Katherine, are you a commoner?”

  I nod, feeling like sinking into the ground. “Is that a problem?”

  “Unfortunately, the law of Athelia prohibits it. Unless the prince is willing to consent to a morganatic marriage?”

  “What’s a morganatic marriage?”

  “A situation that is normally considered undesirable, but not unheard of. Your children will not be able to ascend the throne. You will only be known as the spouse, and you will not assume the title of princess.”

  Is that all? But even if I don’t mind, what will Edward think?

  “If that is the only way available, then so be it,” Edward says, as if he read my anxious look. “I suppose I do not need to remind you that I would do anything not to lose Kat.”

  Poppy, who is clutching her handkerchief, sends me a brief glance. I think she means that it’s touching to see Edward so determined to stay with me.

  “In that case,” Mr. Davenport says slowly, “you will have to file a divorce case. After you divorce Katriona Bradshaw, it is only then that you are free to marry Katherine.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “You do not understand how difficult it is. While divorce cases are becoming more and more common these days, they often take six months to two years. And pardon me for saying this, but it’s unlikely that Katriona Bradshaw will be willing to grant you a divorce.”

  Edward looks thunderstruck. Obviously, he never contemplated divorce and is unfamiliar with the rules concerning it. I jump up and reach for his hand, trying to calm him down. His grip is hot, almost painful, conveying that he is deeply shaken.

  “She’ll have to,” he says flatly.

  “It might not come down to that,” I say, alarmed at how agitated he is.

  “The grounds of divorce require that the wife must have done something to wrong you,” Mr. Davenport continues. “Unless Katriona Bradshaw has committed adultery or a similar crime, it is unlikely you will be granted a divorce. Even if you are the prince. Now, are you certain that you wish to proceed with the idea of acknowledging that she isn’t Katriona Bradshaw?”

  43

  My hands are trembling when I am conducted to High Court. Much to my relief, there is an underground tunnel that runs from the palace to the court, which Edward explains has been in existence since three hundred years ago, when the king himself was tried for treason. Athelia had gone to war with Moryn, and the king was considering surrendering to the colonial empire in secret. They couldn’t get him to High Court because of the angry mob of people pelting him with rotten tomatoes and eggs. And so the tunnel was built, though it is unlikely for a member of the royal family to be accused again.

  “You will be all right,” Edward says, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I won’t let anyone take you away from me. Whatever sentence is meted out—if there is one—I’ll have Father issue a pardon to you.” He kisses me right on the lips, completely ignoring that Mr. Davenport is only several paces away. It’s my fault. The queen once told the king that since he married me, Edward had become less inhibited, but she thought it was a good thing. He needed to relax more.

  “I know.” I smile at him and kiss him back. “Let’s hope that this case will be over soon.”

  Edward directs his attention toward Mr. Davenport and holds out his hand. “Jonathan, I trust that you will do your best to defend her. I am asking you, not as a prince, not as a command, but simply as a husband who doesn’t want to be separated from his wife.”

  Mr. Davenport gives him a firm handshake. “Understood. As a husband, I would do anything to keep my wife at my side.”

  I don’t know how many people have come to watch the trial, but I can feel their presence even before I enter the courtroom. The air seems thinner. It seems that there is less oxygen left in the courtroom, making it difficult to breathe freely.

  I wonder what the people are thinking. Are they disappointed, angry? Do they believe Bianca’s accusation? I wonder what’s going on in Katriona Bradshaw’s mind. If she is anything like Bianca, she is unlikely to give up this chance to be princess. I clench my hands and take a deep breath. No matter what it takes, I am not going to surrender. I will not let anything, anyone, come between Edward and me again.

  When I enter the courtroom, a hush falls over the audience. No matter what the outcome is, I bet that they will boast to their future grandchildren that they had once seen the princess summoned to court, an event that possibly won’t occur for another three hundred years.

  Bianca, Lady Bradshaw, and Katriona are already sitting on the bench, accompanied by their lawyer—Mr. Jones, I think, from what Mr. Davenport had found out. The three of them instantly look at me when I am guided to my bench, my head held high, and their gazes give me shivers, just like the icy wind on my face before I went down to the tunnel. I tuck my hands in my ermine muff and will myself to stay calm. I must put my trust in Mr. Davenport and pray that it won’t come to Edward having to file for divorce.

  The magistrate asks us to step forward. We go over the usual procedure, swearing that anything we say in court is the absolute truth. My heart beats quicker when it’s time to begin the interrogation. I look back, just once, and see Edward, who is sitting with Elle and Henry. I wonder what Elle is thinking. Would she believe that I am Katriona Bradshaw? More than once, she had thought that I had lost my memory.

  The magistrate summons Bianca and Mr. Jones.

  “Lady Pembroke,” Mr. Davenport says. “It is my understanding that you have accused my client of the crime of identity theft, passing herself as your sister.”

  Bianca raises her chin and inclines her head ever so slightly, as though she were princess. “That is correct.”

  “And when would you say that this identity theft occurred?”

  “I had my suspicions,” Bianca says, sending me a look filled with venom. “When I accompanied my husband’s niece to her court presentation last year, this woman failed to recognize me. She asked me who I am.”

  Mr. Davenport raises his eyebrows. “And about this lady whom you call your sister now, when did she show up? When did you become certain that the identity theft had taken place?”

  “When my sister showed up at my house, several days ago, shivering in a threadbare gown, asking to see me. She had traveled all the way from Moryn, where she was stranded.”

  “Stranded?” Mr. Davenport says, an incredulous lilt in his tone. “This lady you call Katriona Bradshaw, who is your sister, was stranded in Moryn?”

  “Precisely. She arrived there last June, wearing a wedding dress and a wedding ring.”

  What happened at the wedding ceremony comes to my mind. When I first arrived in Athelia, I was in my Victoria’s Secret babydoll slip. Edward had to buy a new wedding ring for me. Somehow, possibly through the goblin’s magic, Katriona Bradshaw must have been transported to Moryn in my wedding dress and still wearing my ring. That accounts for why I lost my ring and had to have it replaced.

  The magistrate compares my ring with Katriona’s. Needless to say, they match perfectly.

  “The rings are identical,” he announces.

  Gasps come from the onlookers.

  “Two wedding rings?”

  “How come there are identical rings?”

  “How did she procure it?”

  “If that is the case,” Mr. Davenport says, “is it safe to say that the identity theft occurred last June? That somehow Katriona Bradshaw was kidnapped and sent to Moryn, and this lady became princess?” />
  “It must be!” Bianca’s voice rises to a shrill tone. “She fainted during the wedding! It must be at that time that this woman came in and stole my sister away!”

  Instantly, the crowd starts talking and making a commotion.

  “Witch!” someone yells. He might as well have hit me over the head.

  “Who is she?”

  “Why did she kidnap Katriona Bradshaw?”

  I bite my lip until I taste blood. Bianca must be enjoying this. She has found a way to knock me off my pedestal as princess when I believed that it couldn’t be achieved.

  The magistrate has to bang his gavel on the table a few times, ordering the crowd to control themselves, or he will close the court to outsiders. That shuts them up pretty quickly.

  Mr. Davenport, however, remains calm as he fixes his gaze on Bianca. “Are you implying that my client had the ability to smuggle Katriona Bradshaw out of St. James Cathedral, with all the security guards outside, and enter the church without anyone’s notice?”

  A thrill runs through me. When he phrases it that way, it does make Bianca seem ridiculous.

  “I object,” Mr. Jones says. “The manner in which the identity theft took place is irrelevant for now. What’s important is that the lady my client accuses is not Katriona Bradshaw. My client had personally questioned the princess and confirmed that she couldn’t even remember her mother’s middle name, nor certain events that occurred to her as a child.”

  “Objection, Your Honor.” Mr. Davenport stands up. “We only have Lady Pembroke’s word that my client isn’t Katriona Bradshaw. But why did they never raise objection until now? Could it possibly be that Lady Pembroke holds a grudge toward her own sister?”

  Bianca looks as if she is ready to jump out of her box and claw Mr. Davenport’s face. “Why you . . .”

  The magistrate has to call for Bianca to restrain herself.

  “Your Honor,” Mr. Davenport says. “I would like to bring in a witness who could assist with the motive behind Lady Pembroke’s desire to accuse my client of identity theft.”