The Purple Crown

{. Chapter II}

I entered the grand room with a sense of awe. The room was adorned with lavish decorations, baring exquisite embroidered wallpaper and intricately patterned wood that graced the floor. Gilded candelabras casted a warm, flickering glow across the room, illuminating the delicate carmine-colored silk draperies that framed the tall windows. The furniture, crafted with the finest mahogany and adorned with gold leaf, reflected the elegance and sophistication befitting a room within the royal palace. The walls were adorned with portraits of esteemed members of the ton, their stoic gazes observing the events that unfolded within the room. A grand chandelier, resplendent with crystal prisms, hung from the ceiling, casting a dazzling display of light upon the assembled guests.

I stared at the members of the ton. The candlelight bounces off of the chandelier and flashes a glint of silver perfectly onto the eyes of one ton member. Her stare is burning into mine and a shiver rolls down my spine.

"Winston!" I called. Winston stepped into my room and bowed. A man trolled behind him.

"Yes, Your Highness?" he asks. He seemed irritated.

"Winston, could you please take this picture down and put it somewhere? Her eyes freak me out," I said. He bowed to me again, and as he moved to grab the portrait, the man who had followed Winston in put his hand out to stop him.

"You can't take that down. It is by order of the Queen that these portraits stay up!" he said.

I cocked my eyebrow, "And who are you?"

"I am George. Prince Regent George!" he announced. "As in the next king of England!"

"And I am Princess Romilly Ramses. Future solo reigning queen of Norway. You are not my king!"

George gasped, not understanding what to do in this instant. Was it because I was a woman who stood up to him, a man? Or was it because he truly thought I would have to listen to him as the next rightful ruler of the most powerful country in the world?

"Well, let's just see what my mother has to say about this then!" he retaliated, turning on his heel and stomping out of the room. A chuckle escaped my lips.

"He's quite animated," I comment. Winston seemed displeased when I looked at him. He took the portrait down and hid it behind a dresser. He stared at me sternly.

"Winston, what is wrong?" I asked, sitting on the bed and patting the spot beside me. He shook his head, even taking a step away from me. I looked at him sideways. "Winston, you will tell me what is wrong."

"It is not important, Your Highness. I do not want to ruin your big night by flooding you with my silly words," he said wearily. I went to speak, but he waved me off. He is the only person I would ever let wave me off like that.

"Come, Rom. You really must rest. There are only a few more hours before the event," he suggested, placing the pillows in a way that he knew I liked.

"I am already dressed, why should I sleep?" I questioned.

"It is what is best for you, Rom. Now please rest."

"Winston, I--"

"Princess, I said go to sleep!" he roared, slamming one of the pillows.

I flinched, standing up and backing toward the door. My heart beat out of my chest and voltage shot up my spine. I stopped just before the threshold of the door, staring at him incredulously.

We had been the closest of friends, bound by a bond that I thought was unbreakable. Yet, in that moment, the atmosphere shifted, and his voice, once comforting, now echoed with a harshness that I had never experienced before. "Princess", which he used to say with affection, now felt like a bitter accusation on his lips. His sudden aggression caught me off guard, and my instinct was to shrink away, to escape the intensity of his anger. The room seemed to close in on me, and I felt a lump forming in my throat.