The Princess in the Opal Mask

by Jenny Lundquist

  “Okay,” I admit. “I may be avoiding you, just a little.”

  “I knew it.” He rakes his hand through his hair. “I never should have kissed you. I’m a fool.”

  “You are not,” I assure him. “It is only that, well . . . I had never been kissed before.”

  I have imagined my first kiss a hundred times over, but with Patric. Yet surrounded by all my guards, fantasies were all I could hope for. With James, it was all so quick. One minute I was torn between hiding or declaring myself to Garwyn, and the next, James’s lips were pressing against mine.

  James curses. “I’m sorry. It was impulsive and I . . .” He sighs. “And I want to do this right. Victor said I could have a free morning tomorrow. Would you . . . go on a picnic with me?”

  It is such a simple thing, a boy inviting a girl to share a meal. And any girl could easily accept. Any girl who is not me.

  “I am sorry, James. With the masquerade coming up I can’t.”

  He nods, disappointment etched on his face. “Well, it was worth a try I guess,” he says and begins to back out of the room. “I really am sorry, Willie.”

  “No, James there’s no need to—” I begin, but he closes the door behind him.

  I lock my door again and move to my desk, but find I cannot eat. I stand up and throw open my window, and a salty breeze wafts into the room. Glowing lanterns hang from the rooftops and excited laughter spirals up like sweet incense.

  Down below, everyone seems to be having a wonderful time. Yet up here, I hide, just as silent and fearful as I was during the years I spent in the Opal Palace.

  I unlock the door and exit my room. Downstairs, James is filling several mugs with ale. When he sees me, he gives me a hopeful smile.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind?”

  “I have,” I answer. “I would love to go on a picnic with you.”

  I refuse to find Garwyn or any of the others and offer myself up to them. But neither will I continue to hide. If it’s me they’re searching for, let them come.

  In the meantime, I intend to enjoy my waning days of freedom.

  CHAPTER 43

  ELARA

  If I spend one more day in this castle, I’ll go mad. When was the last time I saw the outdoors or breathed fresh air, apart from my waving from the balcony? While Milly fastens ribbons in my hair, I tug at the mask I’m wearing. When was the last time I spoke with someone without wearing this wretched thing? I think back to the night I enjoyed a midnight snack with the squire—with Stefan, rather. I wouldn’t admit it, not to anyone, but I miss the squire. It’s too bad, really, because I liked him. Stefan, on the other hand, can take a flying leap.

  “Milly, if I wanted to get a carriage to take me into the city, how would I go about it?”

  “Not sure, Your Highness.” Milly yawns as she fusses over my hair. “Think you’d have to speak to the king.”

  Under Stefan’s orders, Milly has moved into my chambers, and both of us know it’s because she’s supposed to be keeping an eye on me. “Your Highness,” she said the first night, “the crown prince could fire me if he thought I wasn’t doing a good job.”

  I looked at her fretful gaze and remembered how fearful I was over displeasing Mistress Ogden, as she had the power to toss me out. “I promise Milly,” I had said, “you won’t get in trouble on my account.”

  So I have resolved not to explore the passageway, not to make any plans at all, until after the masquerade, when the Guardians are safely on their way back to Galandria.

  “And where is the king right now?” I ask.

  “He is with Lord Quinlan.” Milly gets a sour expression on her face. “His latest complaint is that his chambers aren’t warm enough.”

  I suppress a grin. Thankfully, I haven’t seen the Guard-ians since they first arrived in Korynth a few days ago. Ezebo has sent Lord Royce and Lord Murcendor to meet with several of his advisors as part of the peace treaty. How Lord Quinlan occupies his time, I can’t be sure. He seems to have little use for me, now that he is sure I’m Wilha—but I hear about him often enough from Milly. Apparently he’s gaining quite a reputation among the servants.

  “Would you like me to escort you to the king’s study?” Milly asks.

  “No,” I answer quickly. I have no wish to see Lord Quinlan.

  “I suppose you could ask the crown prince over breakfast this morning,” Milly says, careful to keep her eyes averted. I think she must know “breakfast” consists of me sitting alone with only a plate of tuna eyes for company. Where Stefan eats, or how he spends his days, I don’t know either. During dinner, he speaks to whatever nobles are joining us for dinner, and is careful to avoid being alone with me. And yet, I’ve watched as he has swept Ruby up in a hug, and proceeded to waltz her around the room. I’ve seen him stand up for Genevieve, when Eudora starts in on her. Clearly, he’s capable of great kindness—just not to me.

  Not that I care.

  “We both know Stefan would probably say no, even if he did show up for breakfast,” I answer quietly.

  At this, Milly meets my gaze and nods. “He’s being most unkind,” she says in a low voice. “I am sure that if the king and queen realized they wouldn’t stand for it.”

  Her words give me an idea. I give Milly a gracious smile and utter a polite response, and head for my bedroom.

  From the writing desk, I pull out a quill and a piece of parchment. I sit quietly for several moments, contem-plating a letter that is sufficiently Wilha-like, but still gets my point across.

  “Milly,” I call when I’m finished.

  “Yes?” she says, appearing in the doorway.

  I hold out the folded parchment. “Can you please take this to the queen?”

  Milly raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. After she has left, I smile—really smile—for the first time in days.

  Stefan is not the only one who can play dirty.

  CHAPTER 44

  WILHA

  With a picnic basket in hand, James leads me to the beach near Rowan’s Rock. He spreads out a blanket and gestures for me to sit.

  The day is overcast and the tide is low. I glance over at the cliffs and the staircase that I know is hidden among the rocks and moss. I purposely turn away from it, determined not to let anything spoil the afternoon.

  “I can tell you’re getting sick of eating so much fish,” James says once we are settled. “It’s okay,” he adds, when I start to protest. “I grow tired of it after a while, too.” He opens the basket and removes several nonseafood items: olives, figs drizzled with honey, boiled eggs, and a roll of soft goat cheese.

  We watch the ocean and eat silently, the only sound being the rhythmic lulling of the waves. I kick off the slippers I borrowed from Kyra and dig my toes into the cool sand.

  James gives a sigh of contentment. “Summer is finally making an appearance.”

  “It is?” I ask, glancing up at the overcast sky.

  “Well, I guess it’s not as warm as your border village, but this is what summer in Korynth looks like. This far north, you’ll be amazed when you see how cold the winters are. But don’t worry,” he adds quickly, mistaking my dismayed expression for concern. “I will make sure you have warm enough clothes.”

  “Thank you,” I say, managing a smile, and James closes his eyes and tilts his head back. I’m not worried about winters in Korynth, cold though they might be. At the moment, I’m entertaining another thought altogether. When winter comes, where will I be? What if Garwyn and his men never find me? What if they conclude I have left the city and the search is called off?

  I think of the way the girls in the dress shop have begun to stare at me. Many of them seem to like my stitching, and have asked about my techniques. When I answer their questions, their stares are intent, as though they have decided I am someone worth listening to.

  My eyes focus on Rowan’s Rock, which rises up out of the sea. Elegant in her mossy finery, it looks as though she wears an emerald gown, like one of Galan
dria’s Guardians. If only Lord Murcendor were here right now to give me counsel.

  James reaches for my hand, and I think, What if I didn’t return at all? What if I stayed here, forever?

  As if in answer, the peaceful silence is broken by the excited shouts of townspeople, who are crying out that the Strassburgs’ carriage has been sighted.

  The Masked Princess is inside, taking a tour of the city.

  CHAPTER 45

  ELARA

  Genevieve’s response is immediate. I, along with Leandra and Ruby, am to visit the city this very afternoon.

  When we emerge from the castle, a large gilded carriage bearing red Kyrenican flags and the Strassburg family crest waits for us. Several soldiers are lounging nearby, and when they catch sight of the three of us they quickly form a line and stand at attention.

  “Are all these guards really necessary?” I ask Leandra. “Couldn’t we dismiss just a few of them?”

  Leandra frowns. “Wilha be serious. No one in the royal family ever visits the city without guards.”

  “Well, can’t we be just a bit less conspicuous? It would be nice to travel anonymously.”

  “That would defeat the purpose,” Stefan says, suddenly appearing beside me and opening the door to the carriage. “After you, my lady.” He holds out his hand and grins at a giggling Ruby.

  “What exactly are you talking about?” I ask.

  “The queen has decided that the people should get a better glimpse of their future queen. And”—he grimaces—“as I have only recently been reminded that it is my duty to protect you—till death do us part—I cannot abide anything less than overseeing double the amount of guards.”

  “So just to be clear . . . this means you’re coming with us?” I ask. “Because you really, really don’t have to.”

  “This is your own doing,” he says tightly. “I have just spent the better part of the morning being thoroughly scolded by my mother. Did you really have to compare me to a neglectful jailor?”

  His face is flushed with indignation and I almost succeed at holding back the laughter building in my throat.

  “Stop being so stuffy, Stefan.” Ruby sticks her head out the window. “You’re ruining a perfectly good adventure.”

  After he has helped Leandra into the carriage, Stefan sighs and lowers his voice, “My sisters have both grown quite fond of you. Whatever you think of me, please, do not hurt them. Can we put aside our differences, just for today?”

  I nod, and Stefan offers me his hand and we step into the carriage. When we are all settled inside, the driver urges the horses onward. The guards fan out and walk silently on either side of the carriage.

  “How was your breakfast this morning?” Leandra asks me.

  “It was eye-opening,” I say, shooting Stefan a dark look and wishing I had also thought to mention our breakfast arrangements to Genevieve.

  “I live to make you happy,” he says, flashing a grin.

  The carriage rattles over the cobblestone streets. The sky is overcast and smoke curls from several chimneys. When we pass a group of boys playing in the streets, they catch sight of us and one of them shouts. “Look, there she is! It’s the Masked Princess!”

  “So many new buildings,” I murmur after we pass several construction sites.

  “Yes,” Stefan answers. “It is part of a building push. Each day more travelers enter Korynth, and many of them find the sea air agrees with them. We are working to accommodate.”

  I nod. “It’s a remarkable city.”

  Stefan smiles, but quickly stiffens. “I suppose you prefer ancient cities with opal-flecked streets and gray stone buildings, with statues and plaques dedicated to the heroes who came before you?”

  I should search my mind for something demure and Wilha-like to say. But in Stefan’s liquid brown eyes, there’s a spark of interest I haven’t seen since our night in the kitchen. “Oh, I don’t know,” I say. “What if I prefer a newer city, where I might one day have a plaque dedicated to me?”

  “Really?” A smile plays about Stefan’s lips. “And what might that plaque say?”

  “Look!” Ruby points to a crowd that has begun lining the streets. Several men and women call out their greetings. A few throw herbs and wildflowers and beg for a glimpse of the Masked Princess.

  The carriage slows and comes to a stop. A guard’s face appears at the window and says, “Your Highness?”

  “Yes, Bogdon?” Stefan answers.

  “We’ve been given a gift.” He holds up a loaf of bread. “It came from a bakery nearby.”

  “It smells wonderful,” Ruby says, reaching her hands out. “Can I have it?”

  “You know what Grandmother says,” Leandra admonishes. “You never eat anything that has not been tasted first.”

  “Shall we visit the bakery?” I ask Stefan.

  “Why would we do that?” He frowns.

  I roll my eyes. “So you can thank your subject for the nice gift. Or are you only capable of mustering up gratitude toward rich Kyrenican nobles?”

  “That is not at all what I meant,” Stefan replies, looking offended. “I only meant that it is difficult for the guards when—Oh, all right. Have it your way. Bogdon, please tell the guards we wish to visit the bakery.”

  The guards form a line that pushes the crowd backward, and several onlookers call out to us. I reach to open the carriage door, but Stefan grabs my hand.

  “We do not exit the carriage until the guards signal that it is safe to do so. Surely it is the same in Galandria?” A strange expression crosses his face, and his hand tightens protectively on mine. “If something were to happen to you”—he says and then glances at Ruby and Leandra, who both stare at us with rapt expressions—“then . . . our kingdoms would most probably go to war,” he finishes lamely.

  “Of course.” I snatch my hand away from his. “We can’t have that, can we?” I stare out the window, my heart thudding in my chest.

  Bogdon signals to Stefan that it’s safe for us to exit. Ruby scampers out of the carriage, followed by Leandra, and then Stefan, who turns and extends his hand.

  “My Lady?” he says with exaggerated politeness.

  “I don’t need your help,” I say, moving past him. “I doubt our kingdoms will go to war if you don’t assist me.”

  From behind I hear him exhale loudly. “You are the strangest princess I have ever met.”

  Bogdon directs us to a small bakery. Inside are baskets filled with fresh-baked bread smelling of herbs. Behind a counter, an elderly man kneads a mound of dough over a flour-coated countertop.

  “Be with you in a minute,” he calls. A second later he looks up and his eyes widen.

  “Your Highnesses.” He comes out from around the counter and sinks to one knee. “I am honored you would come to my humble shop.”

  “We have come to thank you for your gift,” Stefan answers. “My bride-to-be declares it the best bread she has ever tasted.”

  I glance warily over at Stefan, who shrugs and grins.

  “Indeed,” I add, “your loaf of bread is the first sincere gift I’ve received since arriving in Kyrenica.” I make a point of running my hand over the bracelet Stefan gave me.

  “Oh, Princess, please don’t joke with an old man.” The baker’s head is lowered, so he doesn’t see Stefan flush.

  “I’ve always wanted to learn how to bake bread,” Ruby says to me and Stefan. “But Cook won’t let me near the kitchen.”

  The baker hears, and with a delighted smile offers to give us a lesson. He stands and gestures to the back of the shop. Before I can join the others, Bogdon enters and addresses me. “Excuse me, Princess, but we have just received another gift. This one is specifically for you.”

  “Really, what is it?”

  “An embroidered handkerchief and a book. The girl who gave it to me said it was for the Masked Princess.” He holds up a thick brown leather volume, and my heart begins to pound. “It appears to be an old history book about Eleanor Andewyn,” he s
ays. “She said she was staying at the Sleeping Dragon, the inn next door, if you wished to speak to her.”

  CHAPTER 46

  WILHA

  The inn is mostly deserted except for James who walked back with me. Everyone, including Victor, has gone outside to gawk at the royal family.

  “I don’t understand why we had to drop everything just because some barbaric princess has finally decided to come down from her balcony and grace us with her presence,” he says.

  Upon seeing the hurt expression in his eyes, I ignore the slur and reach out a hand. “I was having a good time, James, I only—”

  The door opens, and two guards stride in. Outside the window, several other guards have formed a line in front of the inn, preventing anyone from entering. Victor is shaking hands with one of the guards, and I remember that he used to be a soldier.

  One guard ducks his head into the kitchen, then strides upstairs, while the second one addresses me, “Are you the young lady who gave the princess a book?”

  I nod. “I am.”

  “The princess appreciated your gift and has decided she would like to meet with you. He turns a dispassionate gaze upon James. “In private.”

  James glares at the guard. Without a word, he stalks outside.

  I wish I could go after him and explain, but Elara’s visit to the city is not something I can ignore. I insisted we return to the inn, and hoped that an opportunity to contact her—to find out what is really going on inside the castle—would present itself.

  And when I heard that their carriage pulled up at the bakery next to the Sleeping Dragon, it did.

  The first guard returns and says, “The kitchen and upstairs are all clear, Bogdon.” The two guards leave, and soon I hear Elara’s voice speaking outside.

  “I’m growing a bit tired and should like to rest in here while the crown prince and the princesses finish in the bakery. As this girl has shown herself to be a lover of history, I feel I may have found a kindred soul and should like to take tea with her. Could you wait outside with the other guards? I’d like to speak of things not proper for men to hear. . . .”