Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales #3)(50)
Elle looks down at her hands. “She wouldn’t listen to me, Kat. She was quite adamant that she wanted the place. I thought about pleading His Highness to convince her change her mind, but he hasn’t returned yet. Besides, Mabel told me that His Highness doesn’t get along with Katriona. She’s even less likely to listen to him.”
“Oh dear.” There’s nothing I’d rather like to do than use the crane fist on Katriona, but it’s not going to solve the problem. “Has Lady Bradshaw returned to the capital? Is she settled in Princess College now?”
“Katriona’s plan is to bring her mother back once the transformation is complete. It will take time to remove the desks and blackboards, and furnish Princess College into a new residence, but she already has an idea how to do it. If Princess College is gone…all the work we put into it will be for naught. And it’s going to be real difficult for us to find another place so spacious and centrally located.”
“I’d talk to her if I could,” I say. “But I’m sure she won’t listen to me. In fact, Katriona will definitely be furious if she knew I’ve returned.”
Elle nods sadly. “You have enough to worry about, Kat. I’ll talk to Miss Cavendish again and see if she has any ideas. She’ll have a hard time believing Katriona will destroy the school, since she still thinks you are in the palace.”
I’m not unfamiliar with feeling helpless. But previously, it usually has to do with the goblins. This time, my hands are tied because I’m no longer princess.
* * *
“Hey, watch out!”
Too late. The egg I was holding drops to the floor and cracks, leaving a puddle of yellow and white on the hay.
Mary heads to me, a mildly reproving expression in her eyes. “Clear up the mess before the other chickens get to it, please.”
“She’s been wanderin’ round with her head in the clouds this mornin’,” one of the boys says with a sneer. That boy had tried to get me to kiss him one afternoon when Mary wasn’t there, and when I refused, he had muttered that a plain-looking girl like me should be grateful for some attention and stop putting on high-and-mighty airs.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, using my apron to clean the mess. I don’t have the luxury of being supplied with cloths. “My mistake—I wasn’t concentrating.”
The boy makes a snide remark about who knows what made me tired yesterday. I give him the finger when his back is turned. I'm acting like a kid, but I can’t use the crane fist on him in the chicken coop.
Later that night, I lie awake in bed despite my back aching from gathering the eggs. What Elle said today kept echoing in my head, her frantic expression etched in my mind. Katriona is using my position, my allowance, to take away something I had created with Elle and bring her mother back to the capital. Maybe she even intends to issue a pardon to Lady Bradshaw, now she has the power to do so if she wished. It’s bad enough I am separated from Edward. Now Katriona has to go and make things even worse.
I turn to one side, shifting under the blankets and wishing I had a hot water bottle...or even better, Edward’s arms around me.
I land a fist on the pillow. No, no, no. She can’t do this to me. I must stop her, and I had better act fast. If she converts the school into a residence and then Lady Bradshaw moves in, it’s going to be really, really difficult to turn Lady Bradshaw out of the grounds and renovate the school again.
It’s pitch dark in my makeshift room. I wish I could light a lamp, pull a piece of paper and write down any idea that may come to mind, but I have neither item in my room. I wielded much more power when I was princess...
An image of Lord Fremont signing the agreement with a sullen expression comes to my mind.
That’s it.
All I need to do is pretend I’m princess again. It will be risky, but Edward hasn’t come back and we’re pressed for time. And I’d do anything to preserve the school from Bianca’s and Katriona’s clutches.
* * *
The carriage rattles on the cobblestone street, but I barely feel any discomfort. It’s still loads better than being squashed into a crowded omnibus during rush hour traffic, and besides, the layers of petticoats beneath my heavy gown of ruby red satin absorb much of the jostle and shock, not to mention the cream-colored cushions filled with goose feathers. I never thought I’d say this, but—I miss being a lady.
Elle sits next to me, her hands bunching folds on her dress, her face a picture of consternation.
“You’ll wrinkle your dress if you keep grasping the material like that,” I say, in a lighthearted attempt to ease the crease in her brow.
“I can always use a charcoal iron. There’s a new kind out with a detachable handle, and it makes ironing so much easier.” Elle has got to be the only noblewoman who’d shrug and say she could iron her own dress, like she is still a servant. “Oh Kat, are you certain you want to do this? We can turn back if you…”
“Perfectly sure,” I say. “Katriona could start re-designing the interior any time. This is the quickest, and most sure-fire way to ensure she can’t have the school.”
“But you’re taking such a huge risk. What will Katriona say when she discovers you’re masquerading her?”
“By that time it’ll be too late. And only Bianca, or Lady Bradshaw, can prove that I am not the princess. The owner—Sir Langley, is it? He’ll never be able to tell us apart.”