The Fake Bride

Trinity sat in place—with her hands primly folded on her lap—on a long couch that felt as firm as a boulder despite its extravagant red coat and gold embroidery. The clock ticked on the mantel and the only movement Trinity would spare was a flicker of her eyes at the clock face. Thirty five minutes, she thought. Exactly thirty five minutes. After Lord Detles had left, a stoic looking chamberlain had directed her to this drawing room. He had spoken to her with enough humility required of a servant, but not enough to mask the indifference and lack of sincerity in his monologue. He had left her here, alone, with a dull promise that she would be attended to shortly.

She waited in utter silence, dreadfully long and tense, her heartbeat the only sound beside the clock to fill the space’s hollowness. Her hand shook as she waited, in nervousness and excitement. She was finally meeting the king, the man to whom she would marry. What would she say when they meet. Would he open his arms for a bride he had only met this instance. Would she be able to receive him with willingness? Or would it show on her face how much she despised this faceless king who had unwittingly altered her fate. Would he realize that she was no princess?

She steadied one hand with the other to quiet down the pulse that spread from her hands to her own throat. With her emotions now in check, she finally noticed the room for the first time. It was charming to say the least. Smaller than the princess’s drawing room where she received guests back home, but it was clean and neat. The lengths where the ceiling met the beige walls were framed in gold. Aside from the little furniture and the clock on the mantel, it was void of much else, as if the owner of this room did not want to leave a trace of herself behind in this very space. Trinity felt a strange pity for its loneliness; its loveliness, she thought, had been discarded and forgotten.

A young maid came into the room just as Trinity exhaled a breath. Wordlessly, she laid down a silver tray of biscuits and cookies, pastries which Trinity did not recognize. Leaning over the table, she poured a cup of tea and carefully placed in before Trinity. Trinity was struck suddenly with a loss of what to do. She felt strange having someone serve her, and it was not something she could get used to quickly.

As the girl turned to leave with a bow, Trinity said clumsily, “Excuse me, may I ask when may I meet the king?”

The girl knitted her brows as if seeing something that disgusted her. Under her breath, she muttered words that Trinity did not understand, but the sharpness and the way air seemed to rush from her mouth suggested that it wasn't anything she wanted to know. In a thick accent, she replied, “The king is busy at the moment.” Her voice was curt and final.

“Ah, thank you for the tea,” Trinity called out before the door closed behind the foreign girl. There was no reply.

First it was the chamberlain, and now it was the maid. She wondered if she was not wanted here. In the hour that followed, Trinity gingerly picked up a cookie and took an absent-minded bite. It was too sweet. But when the last bit of it was eaten, she was left with a dry and bland aftertaste, of which she hastily washed down with lukewarm, bitter tea.

The clock ticked evenly on the mantel and echoed in the empty space for what seemed like hours before a manservant entered with a little girl of no older than ten years of age. In the surprise at seeing a full head of red with strands that were unwilling to stay, Trinity found this frightened, green-eyed creature a delightful sight. So much so that she couldn't help smiling despite the dreadful wait she was forced to endure.

“Hello there.” She bent down and extended her hand, at which the man scowled.

The girl cringed back behind the man, who said coarsely, “Present yourself properly, girl!”

“That’s all right. She must not be used to strangers. My name is Farsiris, Princess of Netriasi. What’s your name?”

She stepped out from behind the manservant before he became even more agitated and glanced at Trinity nervously. “It’s Punica, Princess.”

The name made Trinity smile wider. “Punica. It’s a fitting name. Do you like the fruit?”

“Pardon me?” she said, genuinely surprised but slightly lost her guard. “No, well, my hometown where I used to live was cold year round. We could hardly grow any crops…”

She seemed hesitant to continue, so Trinity changed the subject. “That’s a pity. I love the fruit. If you want, we could try one someday.”

Punica blushed as a small smile appeared. She dared not look into Trinity’s eyes, but the shy fiddling of her hair said she no longer found Trinity a threat.

The manservant cleared his throat as if annoyed and announced, “She will tend to your needs from now on. Please rest well and explore your quarter as you will, but do not leave it under any circumstances. There will be servants serving dinner promptly at six.”

“Dinner?” she protested. “What about the king? Will I meet with him at dinner?”

“The king is a busy man. My only obligation is tending to your meal, Your Highness,” he snapped. “Good day to you.”

As he disappeared behind the closed door, Trinity couldn’t help wondering aloud, “How strange. Is every servant here this rude?”

But she was glad to have at least Punica as a companion. “Well, no matter. Will you show me around, Punica?”

Her bedroom and dinning area were no improvement from the parlor. It was under-decorated and empty and heavy with something that disturbed Trinity. It was not as if she expected a grand welcome, still the state of her quarter and the servants’ attitudes were enough to know she wasn’t welcomed. As remedy, Punica eagerly showed Trinity the small courtyard, which according to her adjoined the other consorts’ quarters. When she thought about meeting the other princesses, she felt the acid pit of her stomach bubbling, but knew she was obligated to present herself. Surprisingly, there was no one except, well, flowers. Distracted as she was by the beautiful flowers, Trinity forgot all about the other women of the inner palace.

Taking Punica’s hand, she flew to a bush of hydrangeas and caressed the small petals. “Do you think I can use them as decoration for my rooms?”

“I’m sure no one would mind.”

Trinity smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t want to upset the gardener who did such a good job tending to them.”

Surely, she thought, such a beautiful place can’t be so cold.

Trinity, dazed in thought, felt Punica tugging her sleeve. Her head turned and she saw two young girls about her age coming toward them. She was stunted for a moment, her eyes jumping back and forth between the two girls and realized their faces were identical!

Though they looked the same with their long blond hair and green eyes, one seemed to possess a queenly glow about her whereas her sister seemed childish in comparison.

“Good afternoon. You must be the new princess.”

Trinity stumbled out of her daze and almost curtsied. She stopped herself and nodded graciously instead. “Yes, my name is Farsiris of Netriasi. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“As do I ,” the sophisticated young girl smiled. “My name is Selisse. And this here…” she turned to her sister who was folding her arms and frowning. “This is my younger sister, Serian. We are princesses of Lanen.”

“We saw you from the distance and decided we ought to introduce ourselves---“

“So you’re our newest victim, are you?” Serian said with condescension. “Try your best not to cry the first week here. The last girl sounded like a banshee and kept me up all night.”

“Serian!”

“What? You told me to make conversation.”

Selisse sighed, “Be a dear, won’t you, Serian? The poor princess must not be familiar with her new home. Don’t stress her out even more.”

Trinity ought to feel terrible at Serian words, but somehow these sisters’ bickering seemed endearing to her. “Thank you for your kind words, Princess Serian. I hope I can prevent such misfortune from happening.”

The two princesses stared wide-eyed at Trinity, then at each other as if having a silent conversation. Serian smiled and pointed at Trinity. “I like her,” she said brightly.

Selisse laughed prettily behind her hand. “Yes, I can see that.”

“Excuse her rudeness,” she continues amiably. “How do you find your new home?”
Home. The word echoed against her skull. So simple a word yet heavy with false pretense. “Very pleasant,” she lied. “It is indeed a marvelous palace.”

Selisse smiled sadly as if she shared Trinity’s sentiment. “Yes, perhaps, that is the only thing pleasant about it.”

“I hate this place,” her sister spat, surprising Trinity of how bold and straightforward her words were. “Our palace is not as big, but it felt like home, you know?”

Trinity nodded. These two girls. Mere strangers seemed to be the only ones who could understand her pain. At least for now, she felt comforted by their presences. That new found trust dared her to ask:

“The king…Do you know what he is like?” Her question earned a mutual confused look between the sisters. They seemed to debate something extremely complicated when all she asked was the king. Their faces ranged from surprise to worry then back to a mixture of both.

“No. Hardly any of us meet and speak to him,” Selisse spoke before any indiscretions could come out of Serian’s mouth. Trinity’s heart sank. Out of relief or disappointment?

“Why is that so? He is my—our husband,” she protested, surprised to find irritation in her voice.

“Betrothed,” Selisse corrected.

“Or treaty insurance,” Serian said, rolling her eyes.

This time, Selisse did not admonish her sister as if to some degree agreeing with her.

“The king has conquered so many territories, attained so many unwanted brides that he can hardly pay all any attention. Surely, you must understand.”

Trinity understood, and she didn’t. It was hardly uncommon that a man of great authority would take multiple wives. Still, it left a bad taste in her mouth since the princess’s parents were whole-heartedly devoted to one another. If she could ever marry for love, she wanted him to love her faithfully in return. That dream was now unattainable.

Selisse smiled piteously. “You should better give up on the idea.”

“Why does it seem to me that everyone here wants to avoid the king?”

Her smile remained but the light in her eyes was gone. “You’ll find out soon enough. Don’t brood over this matter, Princess Farsiris. If you would like, please come to the tea party tomorrow afternoon. The servants will show you where.”

Trinity nodded, though her inside was in turmoil. The two princesses departed---Selisse tall and graceful, her sister bouncing like a playful elf---as the sky rumbled. Trinity and Punica took cover inside, passing two servant girls who were so engrossed in their gossips to the point of almost forgetting to greet Trinity. As soon as she took a few steps away from them, they continued where they left off in a sporadic manner.

“It was the cook.”

“It was him? I didn’t think there was anything suspicious about him.”

“I thought the same. He was a newly hired cook too! Don’t you think it’s dangerous to be here?”
One of the girls made a disgusted sound. “Careful of that brute of a king, or your head will go flying too.”

Trinity paused, turned, and stared at their backs. What do they mean? She didn’t find out because the girls no longer found the dead cook an interesting topic of discussion. They had gone on talking about the newest lace from a store in the city.