The Fake Bride

“Dear guests.” King Fernanz’ voice resonated through the hall of silent people. The moment the king entered, the side chatters died down, and the crowd rose in salute. “Thank you all for being here today,” he continued. “To join us on my daughter’s, Princess Farsiris Trinity Ophelia Anstrollia’s, seventeenth birthday.”

He swept his arm toward the beautiful princess, who sat beside him, glowing in her white gown and emerald circlet. The assembly of spectators cheered and applauded. The princess rose to full height, holding her goblet into the air.

“Long live the king!” she cried.

“Long live the king!” the Great Hall roared fervidly.

“Let the feast begin,” he announced. With those words as commands, servants began filing through the door, holding trays of roasted meat, fresh fruits, baked bread and passed them down along the tables to the hungry guests.

They began to devour eagerly, picking up conversations once again. Trinity came around, pouring wine from a ewer. The lurid, giggling ladies and their vociferous aristocratic husbands heed her no mind as she refilled their cups. Trinity rather liked it that way. They could become quite vulgar when drunk. Trinity approached a young noble, who appeared to be gazing dazedly into the distance. She peered at him from his cup, curious at his lack of spirit.

She followed the line of his vision, and not to her surprise, at the end was the princess. Immediately to her right was her betrothed, Earl Parlem. She peeked another look at this stranger’s face, and this time a hint of recognition came to her. She remembered this young lad. He was, undoubtedly, one of the princess’ endless suitors. If she could still recall correctly, he was the son of a baron who ruled far in the east. He had been one of the more incessant young men standing outside the princess’ window, singing her love songs in hope of wooing her. He was also one of the most disappointed in the end.

She wouldn’t blame him. After all, tonight contained a meaning other than celebrate the princess’ birthday. That was, the princess was finally of marriageable age. It was obvious, seeing as the large proportion of food preparation and merriment far exceeded the previous years.

The princess, particularly, had been growing anxious these last few days. What would she wear? How should her hair look? And most importantly, she was restless for the day when she and her beloved would finally exchange vows of eternal love. So, she had been quite down to read the earl’s letter, informing her that he would not make it to her birthday. But now that he was here, she couldn’t be any happier.

She pitied this young man, who didn’t even have a chance before he was rejected. Just the sight of the princess laughing because of the earl, anyone could tell that they were no match against him.

Trinity finished pouring into his cup and left him there, unnoticed. In the corner of her eyes, she spotted Lorena glaring at her. She would have been quite pretty with her braids bundled into a knot and her green dress, had it not been for the menacing aura that she directed at Trinity. She tried her best to ignore the unwanted attention and continued walking around to the guests.

“Girl, pour me some wine,” a red-faced, robust nobleman called. Trinity turned around, wondering if it was her that he indicated. “Yes, you, come here,” he grumbled, irritated.

Something about him made her uneasy, but she came near him and leaned down to pour. Suddenly, he snatched her wrist and squeezed it. She jerked back instinctively, terrified. The ewer fell out of her grip and crashed on the floor. He pulled her down and this time his face was close—to close. She could smell his breath reeking of alcohol. But worse, his unsteady, lustful eyes alarmed her. She squirmed and twisted, struggling to escape. And if she didn’t at that moment, she felt, something bad would happen to her.

“You look like a nice girl,” his words slurred. “Should I play with you a little, eh?” He began laughing.

The sea of voices in the background drowned out her own, and that was all she could hear—and the pulsing of her heart.

“No…please—“

“Would you care to remove your filthy hand, you pig?” Someone pried his hand open around her wrist. Trinity tilted her head.

Wren?

“Wha? What did you say?”

Wren pushed Trinity back to stand behind her. “My Lord, our young maid has created such a mess,” she said with a change of attitude, smiling sweetly. “Allow us to clean up. We can’t take you away from the celebration now, can we?”

He passed her a dubious look, but finally gave up with a snort. Wren lowered, dabbing at the wet pool where Trinity had dropped the container. As if coming to her senses Trinity unfroze and dropped down before her.

“I’m sorry,” she stuttered, her voice shaking. “Here, let me—“

“Go to the kitchen,” Wren interrupted, glancing briefly at the nobleman. “Here, take care of the jug. I’ll manage this.”

Trinity took the hint and nodded. “Thank you, Wren. I owe you.”

Wren smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

Trinity dashed out of the hall, not slowing down. In the kitchen, she gave the ewer to a dishwasher. Trinity knew she should have gone back, but instead, she began wandering farther and farther away from the gathering. Before she knew it, she had enter a different quarter altogether. Only a few guards and servants passed by her, and none seemed to mind her unusual appearance. She leaned against a column hidden from view and exhaled a shaky breath. Her head hurt, spinning from the shock. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing. And she wondered why her hands were trembling so much. She looked down at her palms, shaking and damp. Shutting her eyes tight, she covered her face with those hands.

She knew why they wouldn’t stop shaking.

She didn’t want to remember. It was a small glimpse, but she saw them—sometimes. And they hurt every single time. Time heals all wounds, but memories always remind one of the pain.

She stood there for a long time, hands cupping her face. Somehow, she didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to waste her tears for someone so unworthy.

When she had calmed down a little, Trinity decided to go back. She began down an empty corridor, when she noticed two figures on the lower level. And one of them, she had a feeling, had something different about him. She paused, her hand on the balustrade, looking down at the open foyer. One of the men was the palace chamberlain, who seemed to be leading the other man as they ascended the stairs together.

“This way, please,” he said subserviently. “The king will be notified shortly.”

By the look of it, they were heading toward the parlor on the second floor. But why the king? Who could possibly demand his audience on this special occasion?

As is sensing her thought, the second man turned around and his hard eyes penetrated hers. Trinity tensed. This man was, without a doubt, a noble. But he wasn’t anyone she had seen before. Something was amiss about him. This was the king’s court, and yet he emitted superiority, as if he, himself, owned the place. His slightly aged face was strong and intelligent—cunning, almost. His attires, no matter how she looked at them, were the styles most commonly worn in the northern countries.

His eyes that regarded her were incomprehensive. Then, he smiled thinly, tipping his head at her. Before Trinity could think of what to do, he turned and continued after the chamberlain.

“Could that possibly be an Elithianoran?” All the hair rose on her back. Trinity spun around, stunned. She wondered why everyone kept creeping up on her.

Standing behind her was Earl Parlem, who had been leaning over her shoulder. “Did he just greet you?” he said with open curiosity.

“Earl Parlem?” she asked. “Why are you here? Where’s the princess?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know. You tell me. Why would the main lady of the event be here?”

This confused her and she raised an eyebrow. Why was the earl talking like this? Could it be the wine? She could only detect a faint scent coming from him. And was it her imagination or was his voice always this low?

“My Lord,” she said carefully. “Are you feeling all right?”

“What did you call me?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“Earl…Parlem?”

He did what she would never expect of the earl. He smirked. He smirked and snickered.

“Well, little miss,” he said slickly, grabbing her hand. “Let me take you back to the party. This earl is very taken with you.”

He dragged her along without waiting for her to make sense of his words. The more she thought of it the more confused she became.



Princess Farsiris was sharing a dance with the king when they arrived there. The song ended with the princess curtsying to the clapping circle of people. She saw them standing near the door way and made her way over.

“Trinity, where have you been? I was waiting to dance with you.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I had to run a little errand,” she said sheepishly.

Earl Parlem came to view and put his hand on the princess’ shoulder. She had to smile, but instead, her eyes bulged out of her sockets as she looked back at the man beside her and the one next to the princess. There were two Earl Parlem’s?

Earl Parlem’s look-alike burst out laughing and came to the other earl’s side. “Look at her, Damon,” he said through his hand. “She’s gaping.”

The earl shook his head, but there was a small smile on his lips. “I do believe you have gone too far with your jest, Cousin.”

“Please, boys,” the princess said. “Don’t play around with my dear friend. You especially, Lord Detles.”

The doppelganger looked at her with eyes full of mocked pity. He was still smirking like a crook. Despite herself, she blushed, bubbling with contained rage. He only continued another round of laughter.

“Little Miss, my name is Lord Detles, not Earl Parlem,” he reminded. “Take care not to address me as such next time.”

She wished there was no next time. Why? How he made her blood boil. It was easy to mistaken him for the earl, but that repulsive man could never be compared to the kind earl. She would never again give him the satisfaction of fooling her again.

“Good bye, Little Dove,” he said, waving his hand in the air as he left them to join a group of young women, who squealed when he kissed each and every single one of their hands.

She wished there was something at hand she could reach to hurl at his head. She wouldn’t mind seeing him in pain a little.

“Oh, don’t let him get to you, Trinity,” Princess Farsiris advised. “He’s not such a bad man if you look past…the rude remarks…and the swooning women.”

Trinity didn’t think she could look anywhere past the smirk, let alone his personality.

Another song started—a merry folk song. Smiling, the princess pulled her into the center where people formed in two lines, facing one another. The two linked arms as the flutes played a cheery note. They skipped around in place, following along the rhythmic melody of the fiddles. The lutes picked up with the clanging of tambourines, and the pairs and dancers parted, clapping three times to the drums. Trinity twirled, and changed partner with the princess. Through it all, she was laughing, swirling in a dream of glittering chandeliers and fluttering, colorful dresses.

When she looked back at the throne, the king was nowhere to be seen.



“Oh, wasn’t that fun?” the princess said, her head resting on Trinity’s shoulder. Trinity had her arm around the princess, steadying her, who appeared to be a little intoxicated.
The revelry stretched on well after midnight. The princess decided it was time for her to retire for bed. She didn’t look sober to Trinity either.

“Damon, oh, Damon,” she whispered his name adoringly. “Isn’t he the sweetest thing? He even gave me this, Trinity. Look. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Trinity looked down, where the princess’ fingers brushed against a teardrop-shaped pearl, attached to a silver string around her delicate neck. The glossy surface glistened with life against her skin as if it belonged to the princess and no one else. Earl Parlem had chosen well.

“Such lovely gift,” a raspy voice said from the dim-lit garden. “A gift from a loved one, is it?”

Trinity looked into the dark, open space, squinting hard only to find a shape looming at the edge of a flower bed. A small, old woman peered at them—no, at her—through slit eyes. Her unusual ornaments, the hoops around her arms and the veil draped around her wrinkled face, caught Trinity off guard. She must have belonged to the gypsy troupe performing here at the palace.

“Grandma, are you alone? Where’s your family?” Trinity asked concerned, approaching her and knelt down.

She didn’t seem to have heard. Instead, her eyes shot open eerily and she grabbed for Trinity’s hand—the third time in one night. A sinister smile stretched on her face and sent chill down Trinity’s spine. This time, she took the princess’s—who was starting to lose consciousness—hand.

For an old lady, she was surprisingly strong. As if possessed by a mystic force, she groped their hands, tracing every line on their palms. The old woman was starting to scare her.

“You, both, yes,” she said, hypnotized. “Your fates have been entwined the moment of your birth. Yes, the Spirits have told me so.”

“You will not be able to escape this fate. One of you has found a love more precious than life. But!” Her head jerked up, and her enlarged eyes traveled back and forth between the two. “One of you will have to sacrifice for it.”

She edged closer into Trinity field of vision. Trinity couldn’t pull away. She was entranced, pulled in by the mysterious shapes swimming past those violet eyes like thin smoke—there, but untouchable.

She whispered into Trinity’s ears, “What will you do?”

“Mistress! What are you doing here?” a middle-aged woman yelled, running toward them.

She pulled the old woman back, who finally released their hands. “I’m very sorry.” She bowed repeatedly. “She is very old and ill. She probably doesn’t know what she was talking about. Please don’t mind her.”

“No…” she managed. “It’s fine, really.”

The younger woman bowed once again and led the woman she called Mistress away by the arm. Trinity stared at their disappearing figures. Those mysterious, pale eyes flickered to her one last time. She opened her mouth as if to mutter.

Trinity couldn’t hear what she could have said, but she knew what it meant.

What will you do?