Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(29)
When I step into my room, I gasp. An avalanche of letters sits in our office. Amelie, who follows me into the room, places a mug of hot coffee on the gilt-edged mahogany desk and checks the pens and inkstand.
“There’s no need to grimace, Your Highness,” she says briskly. “You are now officially the princess. Besides, it isn’t as bad as you may think, for this is the accumulation of one week’s worth of letters. Two hundred and fifty-one, to be exact.”
That’s even more than the unread emails in my laptop.
“I need to see your dressmakers, so I had better be off. If you need anything, all you need is to ring up someone else.” She points to a polished silver bell lying next to the lamp.
Amelie shuts the door. I scan the multiple stacks of letters, which are skillfully arranged according to their sizes, and consider tossing everything into the wastebasket. A tempting thought that lasts for . . . one second.
With a sigh, I plop on the mahogany chair in front of the desk. Just staring at the envelopes is making me feel tired already. I decide to start by sorting the letters first and then deciding which ones deserve priority. Pity I can’t tag or color code them like emails.
My feet are feeling constricted by the leather boots I’m wearing—is it possible that my feet became larger during the seven years I was back in Chicago? Or maybe Katriona had smaller feet. I hope they don’t have foot-binding here in Athelia. The corset is already a pain around my ribs.
“You are cordially invited to the costume party hosted by Lady Mansfield . . .”
“Your presence would be greatly appreciated at our grand opening . . .”
“We have reserved a special box in our theatre, and would be deeply honored if you would grace the opening night with your presence . . .”
Wow. I’m well on my way to becoming a social butterfly. Right. Lacking grace or charm, I feel more like a caterpillar that suddenly grew wings.
Is this going to be my future life? Endless parties and balls and openings and operas and plays? Am I really cut out to be a royal figure in this old-fashioned country?
Not all the letters are flattering. Turns out that being princess also means attracting a huge amount of junk mail. A few ask my opinion on current fashions, or does Edward snore when he sleeps—do they have privacy laws here?—or whether court presentations should start earlier in the day. Do I get to choose?
And, perhaps not surprising, hate mail that calls me a witch, a femme fatale, a fraud, and that I must have performed a seduction spell on the prince.
“Poor Edward, tethered to such a plain creature like you. It is a sore to the eyes seeing you sitting next to him on the carriage. I pity the child that takes after you.”
Geez, overzealous fans exist in Athelia as well.
“The prince is the one doing the tethering,” I mutter, crumpling up the letter and tossing it into the wastebasket.
One letter does catch my attention. It’s hastily written, but the tone is warm and friendly, unlike the nauseatingly polite, formal wordiness of non-hate mail.
Dearest Kat, how happy I am that you finally married our prince! You looked lovely at the wedding, like a dream. Was your dress too tight? We were so shocked when you fainted after the ceremony was performed. Hope you’re feeling better now. Enrilth is well-known as a relaxing getaway. I’d love to visit some time, but Jonathan insists I stay at home until the baby is born. Yours affectionately, Poppy.
Poppy. I remember her as Katriona’s best friend in the book. She eloped with a lawyer, and Katriona even offered to be a witness at the runaway wedding. Now she’s already expecting?
I rub my forehead. Edward has also mentioned that Poppy is the only other one whom I’ve divulged my real identity to. Given that I chose to marry Edward and stayed nine months at the palace till the wedding, I guess Poppy no longer remembers what I told her. She probably thought I was making things up.
I rest my chin on propped hands and sigh. It’s nice to know that I have a real friend in Athelia, but I doubt it’ll be a good idea to visit her. If she were my best friend, undoubtedly, we had shared a lot of stuff together. Poppy would be concerned or even suspicious if I act like I don’t remember our past.
How much longer will it take before I can see Krev again?
I snag a piece of paper—gilt-edged, scented, with a fancy emblem on top—and start jotting down the number of days I’ve been in Athelia and connecting them to the days in America. I’ve been in Athelia for ten days. I guess my part-time job is as good as lost to me by now. As for Jason—I don’t even want to think about what he’s feeling now.
A blot of ink hits the paper, smudging a few of the dates, but I’ve already worked out that Paige’s graduation ceremony is only a week away. I promised I’d be at her graduation.
I don’t want to get used to court life. Yes, I know I’m lucky to have all those fancy dresses and having servants wait on me. But I’m too used to a middle-class lifestyle to enjoy those privileges. Honestly speaking, I feel useless that I can’t even dress myself or do my own hair. Plus, I have no interest in socializing all day long. Even just sitting in that carriage, waving and smiling to the crowds, feels so awkward and shallow and boring.
More than ever, I want to leave Athelia, leave this overwhelming royal lifestyle. I want to be able to grab a coffee from Intelligentsia rather than ringing a bell for a maid. I want to waltz inside H&M and take my pick among racks of ready-made clothes instead of being taken to the tailors and seamstresses, who scrutinize and measure me like I’m some weird insect under a microscope. I want to go out on dates and get to know a hot guy better before committing myself to a relationship, rather than having one who is continuously reminding me that I belong to him.