Royal Replicas

by Michael Pierce

  “You got dressed and everything all on your own?” Piper asked.

  “Yes…? Didn’t you?”

  “No, I love the help. And she does my makeup so much better than I can do it myself.”

  “And you?” I asked Bethany.

  “She always offers,” she said sheepishly.

  I enjoyed having Kimera around and loved her help, but certainly didn’t need her for everything. I didn’t want to start relying on her too much only to have her taken away at the end.

  “What time’s dinner?” I asked.

  “6 p.m.,” they both said.

  “Well, then, I will have to confer with my assistant beforehand to ensure I’m presentable,” I said.

  I didn’t have to call Kimera; I found a note when I returned to my room after lunch, informing me what time she’d arrive to help me prepare. I decided to fix myself a hot bath and soak in the water while waiting for the afternoon to pass and to have the pleasure of seeing Prince Byron again.

  Kimera arrived right on time. By then, I was wrapped in my plush robe, my wet hair up in a clip, and relaxing with a book I had borrowed from the downstairs library. Jane Eyre.

  “You’re already halfway ready,” she said, almost sounding disappointed.

  “Doing my part to help out,” I said, placing the closed book on the coffee table.

  Kimera led me into the washroom to finish my hair and apply my makeup. She chose the same yellow cocktail dress I’d worn to the first dinner with the Queen. Instead of lavender, she accented this outfit with silver, including strappy wedge heels.

  “I trust you remember how to get to the formal dining room?” she asked.

  “I think I can manage.”

  “I can escort you if you’d like.”

  “Would you like to?”

  “I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

  I almost had to laugh. “Kimera, would you please escort me to dinner?”

  “Of course, Miss Victoria.”

  I followed her to the dining room. She held open the towering wood door and I entered alone.

  Prince Byron was seated at the closest head of the table, where I’d sat the first night. And of course, the two seats nearest to him were already taken—by Danielle on his right and Jane on his left. Piper sat beside Jane. I hadn’t been the last to arrive this time; I grabbed the seat next to Piper, who gave me a friendly greeting as I sat down. Prince Byron greeted me with a smile as well, though he didn’t rise and come over.

  Eleanor and Bethany arrived shortly after me—Eleanor sitting beside Danielle and Bethany taking the seat on the other side of me.

  Besides the Queen, the only one we seemed to be waiting on was Constance, whom I was surprised wasn’t the first one there so she could be seated next to the Prince.

  Queen Hart made her usual entrance with an entourage of servants and guards. Her servants stayed behind her as she glided over to the head of the table. The guards fanned out around the room’s perimeter and we all rose, waiting for her to be seated, as was customary. And still, Constance had yet to arrive.

  “I thought we were past all that,” Piper whispered in my ear.

  All the guards stood at full attention, hands behind their backs, batons on their belts, ready for any disturbances.

  “I guess we’re still threats,” I whispered back.

  “Good evening, ladies,” the Queen said. “Thank you for all being here, allowing us to enjoy another formal meal together. And this time, we have our guest of honor joining us.” She raised her champagne flute and scanned the table. “Almost all of us, I guess.” She nodded to one of her staff members who immediately rushed out of the room.

  Almost as if on cue, Constance stormed into the room and made her way to the empty seat by Eleanor, close to the Queen. She made no effort to apologize for her tardiness.

  “How nice of you to join us,” the Queen said, glaring. Constance returned the glare full-on and raised her champagne flute to match the rest of us. “I wouldn’t miss it, Mother.”

  I could tell the Queen was taken off-guard by Constance’s brash tone, but dismissed it and continued with her toast. “Again, I’d like to thank you all for being here, allowing us to enjoy another formal meal together. And it is my honor to have Prince Byron joining us. To life, love, and the pursuit of happiness.”

  The staff members busied themselves with serving everyone at the table, starting with both heads, then working their way toward the center. Small bowls of soup were brought, which looked like little more than simple broth but the flavor from the spice combination was exquisite. Then the soup bowls were replaced by plates of salad.

  The girls seated by the Prince at the end of the table were chatting the whole time. Those of us closest to the Queen were much less talkative. She seemed to be watching everyone like a hawk.

  “What’s going to happen to those of us remaining when Prince Byron chooses his Amelia?” Constance asked the Queen. Her tone matched her comment from when she arrived, which wasn’t missed by the Queen.

  “There are several options,” she began, keeping her voice calm. “You will have the option to return to your home ward, to the family who raised you. We can help get you set up on your own in a ward of your choosing. You can—”

  “I know, I for one never want to return to that hellhole, with what I had to endure from the family and all, but I’m sure you already know all about it.”

  “I assure you, I am not aware of any ill treatment. You were checked and treated regularly by my doctors—”

  “More like poked and prodded like lab rats.”

  “I’m not appreciating your tone, Constance. If you can’t control your tongue, then you can be excused.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Constance argued. “How about telling the table what’s really going to happen to the losers—what you’ve planned to do with us all along.”

  “I was already giving you the options when you so rudely interrupted—”

  “And I’ll continue to interrupt you until you tell us the truth—that the rest of us will be killed!”

  “This is neither the time nor the place to be making such outlandish accusations,” the Queen said, keeping her voice low, yet sharp like a viper.

  “Is this true?” Danielle asked.

  “I don’t know where you got that idea, but I assure you that is not the case,” the Queen said, now addressing the whole table.

  “I overheard some of the staff talking about it,” Constance said. “And it makes a lot of sense.”

  “Whatever you heard was either fully false or taken out of context,” the Queen said. “I’ve invited all of you here tonight for a nice family dinner and that’s what we are going to have. This subject is officially dropped until we have eaten, then we can talk about your options.”

  Constance sulked but obeyed.

  The main course, which included steak, spinach, and squash, came shortly after. Two staff members carried open bottles of champagne and topped off any flutes needing more.

  As the dinner plates were cleared, Piper spoke up. “When this is over, the new couple will be the face of Westeria, as well as Easteria. The return of Princess Amelia will be huge. No one knows what she looks like now, but everyone will after this. We won’t just be able to go back to our old lives, will we?”

  “Looking the way you do now? No, that won’t be an option,” the Queen said. “But we have the technology to alter your appearances significantly. You will be able to look exactly like you want from a multitude of alterations and enhancements.”

  “I don’t want to look different,” Bethany said.

  “And what will happen once we’re out in the world and tell someone about your little science experiment?” Constance said. “It’s going to come back and bite you in the ass. You’re not going to take that chance. That’s why you’re not going to let us go.”

  “You will be leaving with many privileges still at your disposal,” the Queen said. “You’ll have no
reason to discuss your true origins.”

  “You’re buying our silence?” Piper asked.

  “I’m taking care of you,” the Queen said.

  “You’ll be taking care of us all right,” Constance said. “Right here, under your own watch.”

  “I’ve told you I have no intention of killing any of you. I love all of you like my own daughter—which technically you all are. If you refuse to accept that, then that’s your prerogative and you can leave right now. I will have you escorted out of the Château and returned to your—”

  “Escorted out. Of Course!” Constance shouted. “If I walked out right now, I wouldn’t make it home, would I? The only thing keeping me alive right now is remaining to play your stupid game. You wouldn’t touch me—”

  “I’m not going to listen to any more of this.” The Queen rose from her chair.

  “Are you a part of this?” Danielle asked Prince Byron. “I thought we were really building a connection, but if you—”

  “No,” Prince Byron said. “That is not part of this whatsoever. No one here will be harmed. The Queen and I have discussed placements of the remaining girls after this is over.”

  “You would fake offense and walk out in the middle of our discussion as a deflection for your lies,” Constance shot at the Queen.

  “This isn’t a discussion; it’s an ambush and I will not stand here and be attacked,” the Queen said.

  Constance rose from her chair too. Some of the soldiers were quietly approaching the table, batons being drawn.

  “I haven’t begun to attack you!” Constance took her champagne flute and splashed its remaining contents in the Queen’s face. The bubbling liquid dripped down the front of her dress.

  The Queen gasped and stumbled back a step as if she’d been slapped in the face.

  One of the guards was behind Constance in a flash and zapped her in the back with his baton. Her arms flew upward, her body arching back as the baton surged electricity into her. When the guard stopped the flow, she collapsed face-first onto the table—into a pool of spilled champagne and broken glass. Then blood began to flow from under her head.

  The Queen’s wet hair was falling into her face. She reached for her cloth napkin and patted her skin dry. All the servants had retreated. The table was now surrounded by soldiers, and everyone looked horror-struck, myself included. The Queen breathed heavily, scowling, her eyes on fire as she glared at the rest of us, daring the next person to challenge her.

  “Please tell me it isn’t true,” Prince Byron said.

  “The new Princess Amelia will be as public a figure as can be,” the Queen said, throwing the napkin onto the table in a heap. “Those who remain will be threats to her legitimacy and I simply cannot allow that.”

  “This was not part of the arrangement.” Prince Byron sounded wounded, in utter disbelief.

  In a sudden rage, he was on his feet too. Several guards were nearby, batons blazing, but they did not approach the last few feet to subdue him.

  “You never said anything about killing the remaining girls! I won’t be a part of this!”

  “Sit down, Byron,” the Queen said. Her wet hair and running makeup made her look monstrous. “Remember where you are. Remember our arrangement.”

  The two guards nearest him closed in, their batons only inches away.

  “What? Are you going to have them electrocute me too? My family won’t stand for this. My guards won’t stand for this.”

  “Your guards are not here,” the Queen said.

  Prince Byron eyed the two guards flanking him, then decided to return to his seat.

  Constance was groggily coming to. When she slowly raised her head from the table, there was a large pool of blood from the broken glass and several small shards remained in her face. She looked like she was still trying to figure out where she was.

  “Look at her,” I said to the Queen. “She needs help. You have to do something.”

  The Queen did not even acknowledge me. Her focus was now solely on Prince Byron. “I’m sorry it came out this way, but it’s a necessity for the success of the new royal couple. I insist you be successful. I wish there were another way to guarantee the new Princess Amelia would not be challenged—that her legitimacy to the throne after me would not be challenged.”

  “I won’t choose,” Prince Byron said. His face was pure anguish. I thought about what he’d said on our date, about helping the others restart their lives. It wasn’t a ruse. He truly hadn’t expected this.

  “Your parents want this union.”

  “Not like this.”

  “They’ve arranged for you to marry Amelia and that’s what you’ll be doing. You’ll bring your Amelia home to them, they will approve, you’ll be wed, and then you’ll both live here as next in line to the throne under my family name. You will have children and the circle of royal life will continue.”

  “If they knew…”

  “They will know what we tell them!” the Queen shouted. Her eyes blazed and she dug her long, talon-like nails into the table. “There will be nothing left for them to find. Any genetic test will confirm your Amelia is the real Amelia and you will live happily ever after with my daughter!”

  “Happily ever after…” the Prince scoffed. “What about the rest of the girls at this table? The rest of your daughters?”

  “I have but one daughter. I’ve always only had one daughter.” Tears were welling up in the Queen’s eyes and threatening to roll down her cheeks. “If you do not choose, then you kill them all.”

  “If I do not choose, then Amelia is truly dead,” the Prince countered.

  “I’ve accepted that for long enough,” the Queen said, finishing the argument.

  Prince Byron looked crestfallen. He sat amongst the Queen’s soldiers and the Queen’s will and had nowhere left to go.

  The Queen wiped her tears away. “This dinner took an unexpected and unpleasant turn. But here we are,” she said, regaining what composure she could after everything that had happened. “There are only a few weeks left. It is true—there will be no consolation prizes or privileged placements. You are the Prince’s chosen one or you are not. And if you are not, then that is the end of the line.

  “Well… now you know the truth, and as usual, the truth is ugly. It’s time to think long and hard—how much do I want this?” The Queen went to pick up her champagne flute, and when she found it empty, threw it down on the table.

  Those of us closest to her shielded our faces from the shattering glass.

  “I have no appetite for dessert,” she said as she turned on her heel and marched out of the room. Many of the staff and guards followed, but enough remained to keep the peace.

  I was speechless—frozen. Maybe this should have been expected, but I wanted to believe in the possibility something good could come from this. Now, even if I won, I’d be plagued by guilt forever. Amidst the luxury of the palace, the Queen had still managed to take everything from us.

  “What are you going to do?” I heard Jane say to Prince Byron.

  He glared at her with a mixture of anger and pity before storming out of the room himself. He couldn’t even look at us—couldn’t look at me. Everything he’d told me about helping the others would no longer come to pass. There’d be one winner. The rest of us would die.

  CHAPTER 33

  M ost of the girls were too horror-struck by the Queen’s revelation to do anything but moan, but I broke through my paralysis and rushed after Prince Byron. I didn’t know what I’d say when I caught him, I just knew I had to say something—especially after the date we’d had.

  I yelled to him when I reached the foyer and he was about to leave the palace, flanked by four guards—presumably his own—but he didn’t respond. I wasn’t about to let him leave me like this.

  I ran out of the front door and down the few steps to catch him before he disappeared into his limousine.

  “You’re not leaving!” I screamed. “Not like this!”

  He sto
pped at the open car door. “I can’t do this,” he said without turning to face me.

  “You have to!” I demanded. “You don’t have a choice.”

  “The hell I don’t!” he shot back and finally turned to me. He waved his guards away and they gave us some space. “Life is nothing but choices. When you act—that’s a choice. When you don’t act—that’s a choice too. I’m in over my head here. The Queen has taken advantage of me and my Kingdom. I cannot wage a war on her myself.”

  “If you leave, then we’re all dead,” I said, trying to plead to the guy who’d lain with me in the lighthouse, but who was lost within the angry façade standing before me now.

  “If I choose one of you, then I’m condemning the others to death—literally killing the rest of you.”

  “You may not be able to save everyone… but you can save one. That has to be worth something.”

  “So, I suppose this is where the pleading starts, the begging, the bargaining, the promises of God knows what—whatever it takes—so I’ll choose you.” Prince Byron stepped toward me. He was coiled, tense, ready to strike. “Is that what this is?”

  “I plead only for you to stay,” I said, taking a step back from him. “I’m not pleading for my life, but for the life of whoever you choose. I want to make sure at least one of us has a chance. Maybe there will be an opportunity to save more—maybe there won’t—but it has to at least start with one.”

  “So, this isn’t about you?” he said. “What if I said, today, I choose Bethany? That would be worth you running out here to stop me from leaving?”

  “I would be heartbroken and don’t want to die, but I would not regret anything I’ve said. I would be happy for her and accept the rest.” Now, I was tearing up. In that moment, it truly felt like he was choosing her over me.

  Prince Byron’s anger and helplessness seemed to dissipate then too. “I believe you,” he said after a long pause.

  I heard frantic footsteps behind me and the Prince looked up. When I turned, I saw Constance, Danielle, and Bethany on the landing, gazing down at us. Constance’s face was still streaked with blood.