The Fake Bride

“Princess, you have gone all day without eating, won’t you at least take this meal?” Trinity called after numerous times of knocking on the door without a reply.

She heard nothing in return. Trinity sighed, drained. In her hands was a silver tray of food meant for the princess, but looking at the current situation she doubted it would be of much help. Trinity, who had forgotten about meals worrying sick about the princess, was, nonetheless, hungry. Yet, staring at the food, she hadn’t much an appetite either.

Earlier, she had retreated into the kitchen with a heavy heart and found Gloria sobbing with some of the maids gathered around her, who weren’t quite dry-eyed themselves.

“What are we going to do?” Gloria had grabbed her hand, beseeching an answer. What was she to do? She was but a simple maid. All she did was forcing a smile, patting Gloria as a comforting gesture.

“Please, Your Highness,” she attempted. “Let me see you at least. I want to see if you are all right.”

When nothing happened, Trinity turned her back against the door and slid down onto the floor, the tray laid at her feet. The food had gone cold. Drawing her legs up to her chest, she encircled her arms around her knees, burying her face in them. She felt enervated—body and soul. She wasn’t sure what hurt more—the fatigue or the bitterness of rejection.

The dark corridor was made lonelier with the absences of the usual palace attendants. They had taken care to avoid this part of the palace; no one, it seemed, wanted to deal with the princess’ grief. Having sat on the same spot for a long time, Trinity had only heard occasional footsteps at the corners, hesitant to advance any farther than where they already were.

Huddled alone under the flickering torch, her thin frame was even slighter. She held herself firmly, shutting her eyes to suppress the tears behind her lids. In the dense darkness, the abyss of her misery, her mind began to wander back to a distant memory she had forced herself to forget.

A little girl with lucid green, yet sad eyes stood in a corner, staring up the two adults—a man and a woman. The middle-aged woman was someone who had been quite beautiful in her youth. There were clear evidences in the elegant arch of her eyebrows, the oval contour of her face, and the heart shape of her lips. But years of hardships had cruelly robbed her of her innocence, and, with it, her splendor. Her once golden hair was now streaked with gray ones, spilling down around her face from the loose knot of her hair. Her once milky skin cracked with thick wrinkles—at the corners of her mouth and under her eyes, which glinted with an incomprehensible fear. And in those eyes, reflected the shadow of a man, whose hand had seized around the woman’s wrist in a solid grip.

Unlike the woman, the man’s features had not any uniqueness in them. His cropped hair was an unkempt mess, matted with mud along with his work clothes and boots. Scars of battle—some faint, some deep—carved into his face and along his arms made him look proud and tough. They had once been a dignified part of him; now, he just looked like a crude thug.

She couldn’t believe this man had once been a decent—not quite gentle—father to her.

He had changed drastically since he came back from the war. He began indulging in his drinks, those things that made him forget, made him cruel toward those who had been dear to him. Because of him, the pillar of this family, they had sunken to poverty, to the point that buying bread was a luxury for them. Eventually the inevitably would come, he would resort to stealing to quench his thirst.

In other words, he was just like every pitiful peasant living in the slums.

“Where’s the money?” the man barked in a slurred voice. “I need my wine. Give me the money!”

“We don’t have any money left. How can you act like this when little Ollie is ill?” she said meekly as if afraid of his wrath.

He shoved her, hard, and she collapsed on the ground with a thud. The girl covered her ears and cowered from the brute of a man. “Useless trash,” he spat at her, who lied in a broken heap at his feet, her face pale and hopeless. “If you don’t have money, then go sell yourself!”

The little girl cringed away from him, and suddenly, his attention was on her. His unsteady eyes widened in disgust, and when he snarled, she thought, there were sharp fangs protruding from the upper set of his teeth. He looked like a sort of beast that she could only imagine from a bedtime story she had heard her mother recite every night.

Then he smiled—a twisted smile that shattered the boundary of her fear and released the nameless evils into reality. He grabbed her arm forcefully, neglected of the pain inflicted to her. He leaned down, and when he breathed, she could smell the odor like rotten fruits.

“You could sell for quite an amount,” he considered to himself.

She squirmed uncomfortable, thrashing her arms and scratched him across the cheek. He growled and slapped her with the back of his hand. The little girl hit the floor next to her mother, where she crawled away from the man, holding her stinging cheek, staring up at him with the tears burning in her eyes. He swore some unflattering insults at her. She whimpered.

“Why you—” He lifted his foot to kicked her, but was interrupted shortly by the woman.

“No, don’t!” She jumped before the girl and took the blow to her stomach. Curled up, her face contorted in pain, the woman was still.

“Mama?” the girl called, stirring her mother. “Mama?”

Her breathing was ragged and feeble, but her eyes opened slightly, just enough so that her daughter could see the moistness in them. “Run. Get out of here, quick,” she croaked. The little girl shook her head furiously, tears blurring her vision.

At this her mother smiled, but in its gentleness, there was pain. “I’ll be fine, I promise. If anything happens to me, there is only you left to care for Ollie.”

Only then did she nod, very reluctantly. She sniffled and dashed out the door. She did not look back as she ran, even when she heard the scream of her mother inside the house.

Trinity jolted awake to a voice calling her name.

“Trinity—” Wren faltered, her face startled. She was leaning down; her hand still lingered on Trinity’s shoulder.

“Wren?” Trinity asked, surprised herself to see the older maid there.

“Silly girl, you shouldn’t sleep here,” she said with a smile. Trinity finally noticed a soft cotton sheet draped over her shoulders.

“This is?” she indicated the blanket.

“You are very welcome,” Wren said. “I saw you asleep awhile ago, so I brought it. I tried to wake you when it appears you were having a bad dream, though.”

Trinity nodded shyly. She was never used to others taking care of her; and so, when that happened, she never quite knew how she should express herself to let the person know how much she appreciated the kindness. “Thank you,” she muttered.

Wren turned her attention away, staring down at the dim lit corridor. It must be nighttime now, she thought. How long had she slept? The soft clatter of shoes against the floor echoed from down the path and grew louder as two figures appeared under the torch light.
The queen, now in her nightgown, was looking between Trinity and Wren as if she hadn’t expected them to be there. With her natural loveliness, anyone could see how Princess Farsiris was hailed as the most beautiful in the land. She had clearly inherited her mother’s golden hair and blue eyes. But the queen’s eyes were not as exuberant as they were with her daughter's. They were sad, and the shadow casted by the fire glow fell across her face made her beauty an ancient regret.

Gloria poked her head out from behind the queen, holding a lamp. “Trinity, Wren, what are you doing not being in bed?”

They both stood to bow to the queen, who raised her hand to pardon them.

“Trinity had been sitting here all night. I was checking on her, Madam,” Wren said.

“You both have worked hard.” The queen smiled benevolently at them. “Especially you, Trinity. Thank you for staying by my daughter’s side.”

Trinity was ashamed to say that she had not done a thing to be praised by the queen. All she did was mope outside and cry herself to sleep. “The princess would not let me enter, Your Majesty.”

The creases on the queen’s face deepened, and then she sighed. “I see. Let me try talking to her.” She turned the door knob, which wouldn’t budge. Gloria, finally, came up from behind and produced a ring of keys from her skirt’s pocket. She handed Trinity the lamp and held up the clump of keys to the light, squinting for the right one. When she finally found it, she stuck it into the keyhole and turned open the door easily.

The interior was a pitch black, which was untypical of the princess to do. She never liked the darkness; every night, she would at least have a small candlelight on the table for her to sleep well. But even though it was difficult to see, Trinity could still vaguely recognize a shape hunching at the edge of the bed. Princess Farsiris' back was to them. Gloria raised the lamp and gasped at what she saw.

She had turned to them now, her cheeks stained with dry tears, her hair had been undone and fell down her face in tangles. She was still in the dress she had worn this morning —when everything was still fine and normal.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” the queen exclaimed, rushing to her side. “How could this happen to you?”

“My poor daughter,” she whispered again and again, crying as she held her daughter, who was as still and somber as a corpse.

“What are you doing here?” she said weakly.

“Princess, you can’t hurt yourself like this,” Trinity said and extended her hand.

Unexpectedly, the princess glared at Trinity, her lips trembled with rage. “Leave me alone. I don’t need you people here.”

“Princess, I know you are greatly distressed, but you must not give up.”

“What about me giving up?” she sneered. “You’re all glad, aren’t you? Glad to have me gone. Don’t think I don’t know what you say behind my back. With me gone, you can start flaunting yourselves all over Damon, especially you, Trinity. I see the way you look at him. While pretending to be my friend, you were aiming for Damon all along. Because of you, my life is ruined!”

Trinity had lean closer to touch the princess’ hand, and in that brief moment of hesitation, the princess’ hands shot out and pushed Trinity with all the force she could muster. Trinity staggered on her feet and hit the table behind her, where her arms sprawled and knocked down the stacked ornaments. The solid object shattered like glass on the floor—loud enough that anyone asleep would be out of their beds running here by now.

As if snapping out of a trance, the hate in her eyes slowly diminished, replaced by horror. She clamped her hand over her mouth.

“Trinity, are you all right?” Wren screamed and knelt down beside her.

Stunned, Trinity couldn’t find her voice. She had heard Wren’s voice, but that was all. She did not process them, nor did she understand Wren’s words. All she noticed was the throbbing in her head and a slight sting on her cheek. But the pain was dulled out by the numbness that froze her entire being from the core. It had been done. The princess had finally thrown her away.

“Dear Lord! You’re bleeding,” Wren screeched. Her mind seemed to slow down as she watched Wren ran her hand restlessly over Trinity’s face. The queen and Gloria faces came to view; their expressions could only be recognized as worry.

“Is she all right?”

“Can she hear us?”

“The child looks a little dazed.”

Trinity finally reached for her face with her own hand, and found a moist substance on her left cheek. She brought it down, and on her fingers were blotches of blood—red even in the muted light.

Wren brought out a handkerchief and dabbed tentatively at the wound. Then she sighed and folded the stained tissue and tucked it back into the fold of her pocket. “Good thing it’s only a scratch. It won’t leave a scar.”

“See?” the princess said, avoiding their glances. “That’s…that’s why you should leave.” She sounded scared, bracing herself as if anticipating the next hit would be directed at her.

“Farsiris,” the queen said sternly. “How can you do this to someone who is only concerned about you? I do not remember raising you to be such…such insolent girl.”

“No, Your Majesty,” Trinity said, her eyes pleading. Why? Because she didn’t want the blame put on the princess. She knew too well of her temperament and did not want her harm even if the princess did to her. “I’m all right. Please don’t be angry at the princess. She only acts out of grief.”

“Dear girl. After what she had done to you, how could you still be patient with her?”

Trinity merely shook her head. “If Her Highness doesn’t want me here, I shouldn’t be presumptuous to think I have the right to be.”

“Is that what you think? I see.”

She hoisted herself up and moved out of the little circle created by the three women, staring at her anxiously—Wren, especially.

“Wren, would you mind cleaning up the shards for me? I will excuse myself first.”

“Yes, no problem.”

“Thank you.” She went out the door, lifted the blanket onto her arm, and grabbed the tray off the floor. She moved in a purposeless way as if her body was always designed to do so no matter how worn out or damaged she was. She put the tray on the table as if it was her duty—something she didn’t need to think about.

“I hope you will take your meal, Princess,” she said, but she did not look at her master. The princess did the same. Trinity bowed deeply and exited with a noiselessness that resembled that of a ghost’s.

The princess still did not move from her position, but she might as well have ripped out Trinity’s heart. The maid sauntered down the dark corridor. Flickers of lights and footsteps emerged and passed her by; Trinity didn’t bother looking back and continued on through the half-asleep palace that has been disturbed in its rest by the commotion a moment before.

Her feet had taken her, despite her mind, not to her bedroom, but out to the courtyard. She wanted to be away from this place, from the pain of the once sweet memories now turned bitter. They were dear to her, but now she didn’t dare believe they were true anymore.

The field the two of them had been to the day earlier, at night, was chilly to the bones. She draped the blanket ever herself and tugged at it tightly. She shuddered when puff of air blew in at her back, sending her hair flying. As she sat down, Trinity bent her neck to gaze at the stars. They twinkled and sputtered, as if their lights would die out only to shine brighter and more vigorous. It had been a spectacular show to the two of them when they used to slip out of the palace many years ago, now she could only find emptiness in their beauty.

I see the way you look at him. While pretending to be my friend, you were aiming for Damon all along. Because of you my life is ruined!

It was true how she had always loved the earl. She loved and admired him. Love and admiration—she wasn’t even certain what she felt were both of those emotions or one of the two. She didn’t know, and that thought tormented her as the princess’ words repeated over and over again in her mind.

It was all in the past now. To her, he was a precious friend, a dear companion of the princess. The least Trinity could do was to look over him for Princess Farsiris’ sake. She didn’t think she was that obvious. She didn’t think the princess was aware of it all along. Trinity wanted to hide in a hole somewhere, so no one could see the shame written like a mark of guilt on her face.

All she wanted was for the princess to understand—understand that she would never do anything to betray her. Even if no one would, she hoped the princess was different.

But it was too late.

How did it go so wrong?

She wanted to cry. And that was what she did. Tears trickled down her cold cheeks, and instead of being salty, they tasted dry in her mouth. The cut on her face stung, as if the bleeding had not subsided. She wept like a baby, harder than she had ever wept for anybody. Her cry was loud and piercing with a sadness that would wrench one’s heart if anyone were there to see her. But it only echoed in the darkness, the faraway stars were her only witnesses. Even then, they could not ease her pain.

Drowsiness soon overtook her consciousness. She lied down the soft green bed, curled in her secure blanket, and slept through a dreamless night.