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The Girl in the Glass Box

Page 3

by Andi Adams


  Agrippine nodded her head, but remained silent.

  "But I admire your tenacity. Your nerve. Your gall. I command you to reveal to me your face. I want to look into the eyes of such a determined individual."

  Though this was the moment for which Agrippine had been longing, once here, a wave of nausea washed over her. She wanted to turn around and run out the door to leave her identity a mystery. She had imagined this reveal would prove to be a changing point in her relationship with her father. But what if it wasn't? What if he punished her instead? She began to tremble under the cloak so much so that the king stood from his throne.

  "Young lady, what is it? Why do you not want to reveal your identity? For this accomplishment you will be rewarded with gifts and overwhelming respect from the royal family. Who wouldn't want that? Now, I command you, and I will not ask you again. Reveal yourself to me."

  With quivering hands, Agrippine lifted her hood, shook her hair from her face, and stared her father straight in the eyes.

  The king, still standing, was statuesque like he'd been carved out of stone. He stepped down from the throne and stood mere inches from her. She could feel the heat radiating off of him.

  He took her chin in his hand, more gently than she'd expected. "You? But how?"

  Agrippine didn't know if the question was rhetorical or if the king was really looking for an explanation. She remained quiet, unsure of what she'd even say.

  "I never thought I'd say this, but you have surprised me, Agrippine. You have always been a useless twit, a nuisance that takes up space, but today you have proven that you have a backbone in you. Hmm… you may be my daughter after all." He actually smiled at her. Agrippine's heart grew full and she allowed herself to exhale the breath she'd been holding.

  "Now, go change out of that outfit and put on something more appropriate. Tonight you will sit at my table."

  Agrippine had never experienced such elation in her life. She felt so weightless, she could almost float back to her bedchamber, her mind replaying his words over and over.

  You have a backbone in you.

  Tonight you will sit at my table.

  Agrippine was so overcome with joy, she thought she might cry. This was it. This was the moment for which she longed ever since she had come to the castle and had been cast aside as a bastard peasant, the king's unfortunate mistake. She practically skipped to her bedroom, changed into the nicest dress she owned, which still was nowhere near appropriate for the occasion, ran a brush through her tangled hair, and made her way to the first dinner she'd ever had at the king's table.

  3

  It had been two months since her victory and Agrippine could honestly say she didn't lose one night's sleep over what she had done to her competitors in order to ensure her win. So what that they never returned to their families? They had volunteered for that life. She, on the other hand, had not. Ultimately, they had sacrificed for the royal family, even if she wasn't technically considered one of them by most. In her mind, it still counted and thus, she didn't waste a moment of her newly acquired circumstances with a morsel of guilt in her heart.

  On this night in particular, dinner was one of the best Agrippine could remember, even better than her victory feast. Perhaps the king had paid attention to when Agrippine had mentioned a few weeks prior how much she loved wild boar. Alaricus preferred rabbit, but it seemed they had been eating much more boar ever since she had said how much she enjoyed its gamey taste. In fact, it seemed the king was taking notice of much of Agrippine's contributions to conversation and every time he demonstrated his attention, a flutter flickered in her stomach.

  "Agrippine, tomorrow you shall leave the castle. Gretchen is packing your belongings as we speak." He stabbed a chunk of meat in his plate and lifted the fork to his mouth.

  She raised her eyebrows and leaned forward in her chair. "Oh? Where am I going and for how long shall I be gone?" She was excited about a trip, seeing as she had rarely been outside the castle walls.

  The king finished chewing his food and then dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his serviette. "You won't be returning." He forked another bite into his mouth.

  He said it so matter of fact. So emotionless.

  "Wait, what? How… how can that be? Where will I be going?" Agrippine's hands prickled and her head started to swim. Too accustomed to routine and familiarity, the idea of going elsewhere for an indefinite amount of time shifted from exciting to unfathomable.

  "There has been turmoil in our neighboring kingdom and their king received word of our plan to attack while they were in the throes of mourning the death of their queen. So he sent ambassadors to negotiate a treaty. And you, my dear, are part of the deal."

  "The deal? What deal? You are trading me as a slave?" Agrippine's throat grew tight and it took great effort to force words out. "No, Your Highness, please!" As much as she tried to fight it, she couldn't keep the tears from falling down her face. Her breathing was becoming too rapid and she was afraid she was going to faint.

  "I did tell you, Agrippine, from the beginning. I was straightforward and clearly expressed that you are, and always have been, a commodity. That your value as an article of trade is the only reason I agreed to take you in when your mother sent you here. Why do you think I have invested so greatly in your education, especially as of late? I knew this trade was inevitable."

  Agrippine's eyes, wet with tears, stung. She wiped her face with her sleeve and fought to regain a modicum of composure.

  "I thought it was because… because you were beginning to accept me as… as a member of this family." Agrippine's voice strained against the pressure building in her throat.

  The king laughed. "You really are a stupid girl." He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin. He put it down and looked her squarely in the eye. "You will never be an equal here."

  Agrippine was first to avert her eyes, unable to look at him. She didn't want to show him how much he was breaking her heart.

  Maybe I could sneak out before sunrise and runaway…

  Or maybe I will just climb to the highest turret of the castle and …

  She couldn't speak. Only stare, dumbfounded.

  Over the years, Agrippine had heard mild talk from the other servants about the neighboring kingdom. They spoke of the king as if he were a virus, something to be feared and avoided. Agrippine's mind raced. Was King Gerard of Arcana going to be terrible to her? Was he old? Was he mean? Did he even want her to come or was he only acquiescing to the terms of the agreement? Another place where she'd be taken in only by necessity and never by desire.

  Agrippine looked over at Alaricus who wore a malicious smile and looked more like their father than she'd ever realized. He was glad to be rid of her and made no attempt to hide it.

  Agrippine swallowed hard past the lump lodged in her throat and sat up as straight as she could. "Then, I suppose I should ask to be excused so that I may get the rest of my belongings in order."

  "Fine. Yes. Do what you must."

  Agrippine slid her chair back from the table, the sound of the heavy wood scraping the floor resounded in the silence.

  "Agrippine, remember. You have an important responsibility as Queen. The king has only one child, a daughter. You are to give him a son, a prince. That is the only way to ensure you remain in power. If you can produce a male heir, the princess becomes insignificant and your son, our bloodline, will take over as King. Do you understand? You do whatever needs to be done to make sure that you satisfy the king in whatever way he sees fit. Bring him a son.

  "Secondly, keep in mind, you represent Higlet. When you are there, I expect that you exude an air of power and pride. Afterall, you're impending marriage will secure us part of Arcana's kingdom, expanding our borders farther than ever before. But remember where your allegiance lies. You are always Higletian, by birth and by death. Don't you forget that." His steely eyes burned through her with everlasting domination. A dominance out of which she was eager to be free.

  All
egiance? I have no allegiance. Not to you. Not to them. I am my own kingdom. And I rule myself.

  Her mental rant enraged her further and she walked briskly from the dining hall.

  To hell with them. To hell with them all. I can only care about one person now – me. Because if I don't, no one else will.

  After spending the night crying, Agrippine woke up a new woman. She had cried out the little girl who wanted her father to love her. She had excised the girl who cared about seeking the approval of others. She had drowned the weak part of herself who needed anyone else. She was alone and finally, she realized that's what she wanted. No longer could she be hurt by others who only used her.

  She was a pillar, a fighter, a warrior — and she was ready for battle.

  It took almost three days to reach the castle in the center of the Kingdom of Arcana. Three whole days jammed in the back of a small carriage with only one valise as her company. She was dressed in the finest gown she had ever owned, made of heavy linens and silk and thick layers of undergarments. Her hair set in a beautiful plaited coiffure, which was too tight for comfort. She was hot and tired. She had contemplated jumping out of the carriage and taking off into the forest, but logic and exhaustion won out. She'd never survive out in the woods on her own.

  Upon arrival to the castle, a half-dozen pageboys greeted Agrippine's carriage, but no fanfare or audience, which Agrippine noted but didn't necessarily miss. They helped her out of the coach and she eyed the castle like a girl who'd never been outside before. Her mouth stood agape and she had to remind herself to maintain her demureness amidst the grandeur of her new residence. Not just her residence – she was to be Queen. A flutter of hope sprang up from her toes and almost carried her inside. Queen. It had a nice sound, a powerful sound. It was a position for which she had greatly sacrificed.

  She was brought to the king at once and Agrippine fought to maintain her composure. Her hands were shaking and she knew, if given the opportunity to speak, she would never be able to find her voice. So many thoughts. So many worries. She wasn't ready for marriage. She didn't want to give herself to a man she didn't know. They would have to consummate the marriage, and soon, and Agrippine didn't even want him to touch her.

  Give him a son, Agrippine.

  Her initial excitement gave way to anger and resentment. Her father had traded her like a common whore. She would have to give everything of herself to a stranger for the benefit of her selfish father. And after all the attempts to win his affection, he betrayed her in the worst way possible. Her chest tightened so fiercely she feared her heart might explode. But in spite of the pit growing in her stomach, she held her head high and strode into the Great Hall.

  The king rose when she walked in, as did a young girl about seven years old. She stood next to the king, dressed in finer dresses than Agrippine had ever owned. The king put his hand upon the girl's shoulder and pulled her close. The girl stepped in obligingly, but still wore a face of sorrow, marked by her downcast stare.

  "Welcome to our kingdom, Your Highness." King Gerard took Agrippine by the shoulders and kissed her on each cheek before presenting the young girl. "This is the princess, the light of my world, my beautiful Genevieve."

  Agrippine's mind flashed to the china doll she had held a few months prior in Alaricus' trinket room. The girl had the same coloring, the same smooth porcelain skin, pale and perfect.

  "I don't want her here." The little girl stomped her foot and spoke adamantly for someone so small and delicate.

  Agrippine drew back, unsure if she should respond or not.

  "Oh my love, Agrippine will be your stepmother. It must be this way."

  "No. I want maman. She is not ma mere. I don't want her here. Tell her to go home." The little girl stood with her arms crossed over her chest and scrunched her face into a grimace.

  The king stooped low to speak squarely with his daughter. He stroked her arms and then put a hand to her face. "I know this is hard my love, but I cannot send her home. Try to understand that she is here to bring our country peace and safety."

  "I don't care what she is doing here. She does not belong. Not here with us."

  "My darling Snow, no one will replace your maman. She couldn't even begin to try. It will always be you and me forever and ever. Nothing will change that. Nothing at all."

  Agrippine stood watching, unsure of what she should do. Clearly, she didn't want to be here either, and they were making no effort to make her feel welcome. As if it wasn't difficult enough for her…

  She stared at the indignant face of the raven-haired child and her hands twitched. She wanted to sympathize, empathize even, with the girl who'd recently lost her mother, but she couldn't. Not when the girl was making her feel like even more of an outsider than she already was.

  She tuned out their conversation and just watched their gestures, their bodies, their breathing. They finally turned back to Agrippine, as if she was an afterthought, an interruption to a private conversation. They were standing hand in hand. Two against one.

  The king said, "The ceremony will be quick and without great pomp and circumstance. The people of the kingdom are devastated over the loss of our Queen. They are not in full support of such a hasty marriage, even though they know as well as I, that our union will prevent war. Therefore, in order to tread with sensitivity, we will treat the union as the formality that it is. You must understand, we are all still in mourning."

  Agrippine nodded, unsure of what to say. She was finding that to be the case more often than she cared to admit.

  "You have been assigned a staff of hand-servants and chambermaids to assist you with whatever you may need. They will show you around and make sure you are comfortable with your new accommodations. In a few days, when the news of our marriage has settled, we will present you to the kingdom. Until then, you may spend your days as you wish, indoors, of course. You may not entertain an audience or engage with the public until you have been properly presented. We shall marry tomorrow in the presence of the highest rankings of the royal court and my most trusted advisors."

  The instructions were cold. Disconnected, as if they were discussing chess strategy or a market list. It was another instance of her being dismissed and discarded. Another instance of her being a box to check off a list.

  I am an island.

  I am my own kingdom.

  I don't need any of you.

  She repeated the mantra as he spoke, paying little attention to the details he painted in his discourse.

  "Come come, there is much to be attended to before tomorrow. Your belongings have been brought to your quarters. You may retire there until dinner. I'm certain you must be fatigued after such rigorous travel." Without waiting for assent, the king nodded his chin upwards in dismissal. A firm hand took Agrippine by the crook of her elbow and led her out of the hall and away from the king.

  She settled in as best as she could and sat in her bedchamber alone. Nothing to do. No one to talk to. On the edge of her bed, she traced her pointer finger along the lines in her palm. This is awful. Not one person. Not one friend.

  A young woman knocked on the door and entered without waiting for response. She was about Agrippine's age, mousy and plain. Agrippine smiled at the thought of a companion and possible confidant.

  "What's your name?" Agrippine asked. The girl moved two tapers to the night-table, struck a match, and lit them.

  "I am called Florette, Your Highness. And I should not be speaking with you. It is improper." The girl flushed and kept her eyes lowered.

  "Yes, I suppose that's true… but… well…" Agrippine couldn't finish the sentence. She bit her lip instead.

  The young woman finished lighting the tapers around the room. "Is there anything else you need before you retire for the evening, Your Highness?"

  "I don't suppose so."

  "His Royal Majesty said tomorrow will be your wedding, followed by the umm…consummation of your marriage. He advocates for you to get some rest." Her eyes locked o
n Agrippine. They conveyed a fierce flash of pity. Agrippine swallowed past a lump in her throat.

  The young girl, a servant and yet more free than Agrippine would ever be, curtseyed, and then left without another word. Agrippine fell backward from her seated position on the end of the bed and allowed her body to sprawl upon the down mattress. Her breath began to quicken at the thought of the king coming to her the next night. His weight on top of her. His clammy hands on her bare skin. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  She didn't want him. Not like that. But she knew it was the only way to take her place as Queen. It would be the only way their marriage would be official. The only way the treaty would be preserved. She hated him for it. The consummation hadn't even yet occurred, and still she hated him.

  And her father.

  And her brother.

  Even the little girl who made her feel like such an unwanted intruder.

  All of them could rot in the deepest pits of hell for all she cared.

  She wanted to cry, but instead, she turned her thoughts to stone. I won't give them the satisfaction of surrender. I'll play my part, but eventually, I will be the victor. Someday, I will show them they cannot beat me.

  4

  Ten Years Later

  * * *

  Genevieve scrunched her face at the sight of the food set before her. It smelled like rancid eggs mixed with licorice and was the color of vomit. She fought back a gag and pushed the plate away with the tips of her fingers. The heavy pewter plate raked against the oak.

  "What's wrong with it today, Princess?" Marnie asked, as she grabbed it with one hand to take it away, untouched.

 

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