Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(38)
I gulp. Really, I can’t ask for a better mother-in-law. “Thank you . . . Mother.”
* * *
From the moment I enter the drawing room and am guided to the platform, a strong sense of déjà vu washes over me. I have been in the room before. Two rows of chairs are placed on either side of a grand carpet, which leads to the chairs where we are supposed to sit. Instinctively, I know that the debutantes, after curtsying to us, will walk backward until they reach the seats.
It’s the same feeling that gripped my mind when I was in the palace library. It seems that my memory is returning, albeit with the pace of a snail. Hope blossoms in my mind. Please, don’t let this be a one-time occurrence. Maybe, given sufficient time, I’ll be able to remember everything.
The tallest manservant comes up to us and asks if we are ready to begin the court presentation.
“We’re ready,” the queen says after exchanging a look with me. She leans toward me and whispers, “I hope you ate your fill during lunch, for the presentation will not end till several hours later.”
“Several hours?”
“While the presentation itself may be a difficult task, many families wish to have the privilege of being presented, including those who have made their fortune in trade, even though they are not of aristocratic blood. It is unfair to keep the presentation exclusive, but on the other hand, this means that the hours get longer and longer.”
One by one, the debutantes enter the room, decorated like Christmas trees, accompanied by their sponsors. Almost all of them are nervous. Some manage a tense smile, while a minority manage to look like they are going to receive a Grammy award. When she reaches the throne, the debutante curtsies so low that it’s a wonder her knees don’t crack. Then she walks backward with the train trailing behind her and sits in the chairs provided. Since I don’t recognize the girls, I keep my mouth shut and just smile. The queen, on the other hand, has something to say to everyone, but even I can see that she finds the task tedious.
There is a girl who seems so nervous that she is literally trembling as she treads on the carpet. She’s extremely pretty—in fact, she has a passing resemblance to Paige, but lacking my sister’s confidence. This girl looks so young and helpless . . . I wonder if she is older than fifteen. I watch her and wonder if that’s what I looked like when I was seventeen. It’s not surprising that I tripped up—the atmosphere can heighten the tension.
When the girl takes her first step backward, there is the sound of fabric ripping and the next second, she is on the floor. My heart goes out to her. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m out of my seat. I grab her arm and pull her into an upright position.
“Princess Katriona?” she gasps, her eyes wide and her mouth open.
“There’s an empty seat over there,” I say in a low voice, also feeling a bit embarrassed. Maybe I acted a bit hastily. She could probably get up by herself.
After the presentation is finished (Finally! Can I rip the crown off now?), the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen comes up to me.
“That was quite charming of you to lend a helping hand to Adelaide,” the woman says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Can it be that she reminded you of your notorious fall in your own presentation?”
“Perhaps,” I say, rubbing my temples and wishing I could disappear. Can’t the future presentations be replaced by a ball or a dinner? Presenting the debutantes one by one certainly takes up a lot of time. “By the way, I’m sorry, but you are . . .?”
The raven-haired beauty stares at me for a long moment, as though she doesn’t understand what I’m saying. Her eyebrows almost disappear into her forehead. What did I say that causes her such amazement?
“Bianca! There you are!” An older woman heads in our direction. “I am so sorry that I wasn’t available to attend your wedding. Did you receive the gift I sent?”
I feel like someone has punched me in the stomach. This gorgeous woman is Bianca, who is supposed to be my sister in Athelia. And I have just made the fatal mistake of failing to recognize her.
* * *
All eyes are on me. Bianca stares at me, a hand on her throat. Even when she is astonished, she still looks like a movie star.
Think, I command myself. I have to say something quickly, or they’ll know I’ve lost my memory. Already, I can imagine the headline story: The princess is suffering from a terrible disease. It is advisable that she be kept away, locked in a tower until she is fully recovered.
I give a fake laugh. “You must have heard wrong, Bianca. I didn’t even finish my sentence. I was planning to ask you if you were enjoying yourself.”
A shoddy explanation, but it seems to satisfy the others. One lady starts to compliment how becoming Bianca’s hairstyle is. Another lady starts to talk about how glad she is that it’s all over, and how nice it is to finally have something to eat.
Internally, I sigh in relief. Pasting a smile on my face, I pretend that nothing happened. I smile graciously and speak as little as possible, so as not to betray any more ignorance. It isn’t difficult; since taking my job at the coffee shop, I’d learned to deal with all kinds of customers with patience.
However, when it’s time to leave, Bianca glances at me and I almost recoil. It’s a piercing, unfriendly glance, as though she is trying to see into my mind. Just a second, and she turns away. Man, I am so glad that I’m no longer living with her.