Princess Anna

My friend Alicia used to tell me things, such as stories about love. Her favourite were those tales and experiences where two were after one.

She liked to call them love triangles. Little to her knowledge while she vied after Alfred, Peter was longing for her to give him some time. She would speak to him as a friend, and would tell him her secrets of Alfred.

He told me though, that he loved her too. And she told me that she was destined for one.

One evening, in her typical manner of arriving for tea on Wednesday, Alicia came in to the parlour with a pale face. A sullen face. Dark rims where her eye make up was smudged. She took my hand and I pulled us to sit on the seat by the fire.

She collected her strength in breaths. One at time. Slow and shivering.

"Anna, do you remember how I told you of the tale of Mary and Joseph?" I nodded my head.

"Th-they were so silly weren't they?" She huffed.

I bit my lip, unsure of what she was to say. Mary and Joseph had been friends, deep rooted friends. Joseph loved Mary. Mary loved her father's cousin. She was sure they would marry, as they were not too far in age, only six years and he had a fine character. He never found out of Mary's love and not too long after Joseph learned of Mary's affection, the cousin was married. Mary cried herself to bits after the wedding as Alicia tells the tale. Joseph had hidden away his heart to keep Mary from crumbling. He pulled his old friendship out in this time.

He comforted her and she soon found a new love. Joseph was crestfallen.

She spoke of him to Joseph often. Sweetly giggling when he frowned at her over-affectionate gaze. Unsure how she found someone so soon. One day he just had it. He pulled his hand from her and demanded to know how she could love another. She grabbed his hand right back and demanded they marry. At this point in the story Alicia and I would giggle loud enough that servants would quirk their brows at us and wonder at our childish ways. They were so unaccustomed to see me in high spirits. They, of course, missed the most amusing piece of the story. Joseph, having received the rather unexpected proposal he had wished to give, stood dumbfounded and simply nodded his head. With the rest of the story following as a happily ever after sort of ending.

But as I recounted this story Alicia's hand slipped from mine to wipe her eyes.

"I'm Mary, and he's Joseph." Alicia rung her hands together and smoothed out her dress and pulled it into her fists once more.

"Is Alfred married?" I breathed. However, Alicia shook her head and smiled a small smile. "What happened? Alicia, tell me."

"Peter proposed." Alicia bit her lip so hard and a shriek burst forth.

And just with those two words the mood changed. The harsh light of the fire filled us with warmth and the hard-weaved carpets padded our feet as we rushed to tell her sisters. We walked the two kilometers hardly feeling a complaint in our steps. We recounted the past and I stayed secret of my knowledge of Peter, letting the natural course of God run for these two.

I felt satisfied in that moment that I had been able to spot a love triangle and that it was able to run smoother than that of Mary and Joseph's. Without a wedding to break Alicia's heart, her marriage plans were swift and lovely.

But recounting this, I have to wonder how I did not see it coming.

That when the carriage arrived here a second time in a fortnight that our small happinesses at this house with Adam and his mother were just that, small. Forgettable. Minute. Memories. That this maiden with stark blonde hair and ravishing green eyes, a tall slim frame and a measured knowing laugh, had come to take his heart.

I know it is I who is to marry Adam, but seeing this other girl as the object of his eye. The one he longs to have in arms at almost every occasion, I cannot understand it. I do not want to.

At dawn she arrived and I got a hint. A hug for her. For Maria. No me.

Again, before we were to head off to our rooms to sleep I got a hint. An arm around her shoulder as he bade her farewell. A curt nod to me. No charming grin.

All I could stand to catch was her name. How she could be so close to him when I was to be his wife?

Maria.

Had I answered the door, rather than take her travelling cloaks from her as Madame did, I would turn her round back to her carriage and servant.

Who is she?

And why does Madame Asmara let her roam with her son so freely.

They walk in the grounds, in the bitter cold, as if they are untouched by the winter chill. Arms linked like old friends that can hardly wait for their new lives to begin. While I watch from my closed window unable to catch even a whisper of their conversation. It is quiet in those moments.

She cannot be his sister for their hair and eyes are different. Had she been, I would have known in childhood. She cannot be an aunt, for she is far younger than even me, and she has most clearly outlined her state of unwed and marriagable age at dinner time when Madame inquired about her future.

At dinner she sat beside Adam. His clear grey eyes radiated with delight at her rather clever tales of how she convinced her parents to send her for the time of the wedding. The wedding.

Why had I been so stupid to prolong the wedding date for a month and let a winter storm and the absence of Adam's father bring this woman into my life. Hindering my future. I always revered myself as one who would catch a love triangle in the midst of it. However, it seems that this is a bond that I have inextricably been cut out of.

What are you doing here?

Maria.