Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales #3)(58)

I sit through three convictions before my name is called. When I am conducted to the front, I feel someone gazing at me and I turn around.

Bianca and Katriona have arrived. Both of them look ridiculously out of place in this small courtroom. Bianca, in particular, looks like royal herself. Her navy blue gown isn’t flashy but speaks of high quality. Diamonds glitter on her throat and in her hair. There’s a cold, cruel smirk in the corner of her lips, as though she’s deriving joy from seeing my sorry state. I can't see my reflection, but I must be a fright. The judges are less likely to be merciful when I look like a criminal.

Katriona Bradshaw, on the other hand, seems rather frightened, and when she meets my eyes, she drops her gaze and folds her hands in her lap. Bianca whispers something to her, like she’s telling Katriona not to worry.

“Katherine Wilson,” the clerk reads my indictment. “Stating in evidence whereof the accused did attempt to possess the property of another by means of forgery.”

I stagger to the space in front of the judges. My head hurts and I’m shivering, but I have to stay put. The judge in the middle peers at me through giant spectacles. The one on his right glances at me and Katriona, then whispers to the judge on the left. They are all male, wear white wigs and black cloaks, and none of them appear sympathetic.

“Your name is Katherine Wilson?” The judge in the middle asks.

I nod. There’s no use trying to say I’m Katriona Bradshaw. And there is a certain relief that I can use my own name.

The judge questions me about my family and where I grew up. Thanks to Edward’s idea that Mr. Wellesley adopt me, I’m able to provide a plausible story.

“Do you admit to forging the princess’s signature and impersonating her, when you went to Spencer’s Sky-High Realty on the third of June?”

Sir Langley is also among the audience. He doesn’t have the vindictive expression Bianca wears, and he’s staring at me with suspicion and curiosity. The judge said ‘the princess.’ Not Katriona Bradshaw.

I throw back my shoulders and straighten my spine. “No.”

Bianca gasps. Surprise flits across the judge’s face. They might not expect I would admit to the crime straight away, but neither would they expect I’d deny it in such a defiant manner.

“You do not admit that you’re guilty of impersonating the princess?” the judge says, cocking his head. “Are you saying you were not present at Spencer’s Sky-High Realty that day?”

“No.” I raise my voice and send Bianca an intense glare. My fury at Bianca fuels me with strength to keep going. “There’s no need for me to impersonate. Because I AM the princess.”

This time, even the audience erupts with amazement and excitement. Bianca looks speechless for a moment, then snarls, “Liar!” Katriona stares at me, a hand pressed on her chest.

“She’s not of sound mind,” someone utters.

“The prince proposed to me at the ball,” I continue calmly, as though I was doing the weather forecast. “He chose me out of hundreds of girls. We married at St. James Cathedral, I’ve been the princess ever since, and I’ll be damned if I say otherwise.”

Ignoring Bianca’s spluttering protest, I turn to Sir Langley. “I came to your office a year ago and requested that you sublet 102 Longbourne St. It was previously a boys’ primary school, and when the school had to be relocated due to its being insufficient to house too many students, I asked you if you would sell the place to me instead. Because Lady Elle, daughter of Earl Bradshaw, and I, wished to establish a school for girls. Is that correct?”

“The accused may not question, unless the witness is sworn in,” the clerk says.

“Then let Sir Langley be brought forward,” I say, my voice ringing with authority. I may look awful, but I know my attitude is of someone used to giving orders.

The judge doesn’t seem pleased at my issuing orders, but he asks Langley to stand as witness.

Langley is sweating, but he confirms everything I say. I watch with satisfaction as Katriona stammers through questions like Edward’s birthday, his favorite flowers, and his childhood. The judge has no way to confirm if I’m right, but at least I got the facts right with Langley. And Katriona didn’t even know I fell on my butt during my presentation, nor anything about the articles I wrote.

By this time, the audience has grown to accommodate the entire courtroom. Hushed whispers and suspicious looks abound. I stand tall, my expression smug. I cannot lose heart.

Bianca looks like she wants to scratch my eyes out; Katriona is hugging her shoulders, her spine bent, her face a picture of frustration. The judges, who at first seemed bored and convinced I was guilty, appear troubled and wary.

But while I’ve managed to disrupt the foregone conclusion (in the previous three convictions, all were found guilty), the evidence against me is too overwhelming.

“Katherine Wilson,” the judge in the middle intones. “If you are, as you say, the real princess, a few matters need to be sorted. Why did you not use your own name? Why use the name of Katriona Bradshaw?”

Because when Edward was courting me, I inhabited her body. Yeah, right. As if I could tell the judge the truth. I might be burned at the stake instead of being hanged on a noose.

“Because she’s a fraud!” Bianca says, her nostrils flared. “Don’t you see the similarities between her and my sister? She thought she couldn’t marry the prince, the lowly commoner she is, and masqueraded my sister!”