Playing Princess

Playing Princess 2.26

Sleep drove me to a restless slumber, devoid of dreams. It felt as if it had been cut short, or the day had come too quick.

A rough shake pulled me from the light sleep. I curled deeper into the sheets, praying for more time to just . . . just be me.

“Princess,” a timid voice whispered.

I squeezed my eyes even tighter, my heart beginning to rattle nervously.

Not today, I thought wistfully. Today, you’re Isabella.

“I’m awake,” I said gruffly, trying to imitate Izzy’s usual intonation. Realising my mistake, I forced a smile at the girl who refused to meet my eyes. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Princess,” the maid greeted and dipped into a hasty curtsey. “We have your bath drawn. Miss Allegra has given us instructions to prepare you for tonight and the Head of the Festival committee will be meeting with you shortly after for a dress rehearsal.”

I nodded dismissively and crawled out of bed, trying to retain some grace. Tilting my chin higher than usual, I let myself be ushered into the bathroom where the warmth of the bath almost dozed me off again.

The early morning passed by in a blur of activity, and for once, I was the one being bossed around. It shouldn’t have surprised me so much that they invested so much time and effort into a cultural festival.

Without Allegra at my side, I struggled to keep up with the orders being pelted at me. I suffered through an excruciating hour of last-minute tailoring because apparently, Izzy’s measurements were slightly different to me. Needless to say, the corset still strangled me to death.

Liza, the Festival’s director guided me through the passage where I would be led through a waiting room, up a narrow staircase to the mezzanine overlooking the ballroom.

“The King has appointed Sir Freeman to be your escort,” Liza informed me on the third time we went through the passage.

I lost track of my feet and immediately, the long skirts were caught beneath my shoe – and we still hadn’t had a run-through with the traditional shoes: replicas of Queen Annabelle’s own.

Slater unnerved me. There was nobody in the palace we could trust completely, aside from the King. The fact that Slater seemed to know about my existence made me pause.

He was Elliot’s most trusted adviser, a man that had helped my father with important decisions during his reign. He’d been a key player in helping settle foreign affairs, as far as what the internet said about him. Of course he would have known that Izzy had a twin.

I was getting worried over nothing.

Liza was still speaking rather rapidly so I attempted to zone back into the one-sided conversation.

“. . . Annabelle was a tall woman. Your Highness possesses a much shorter stature.”

I couldn’t help the dry smile spreading across my face. “I know.” Quickly reminding myself not to be casual, I added, “I believe it to be my mother’s trait.”

Liza’s eyes flashed sympathetically. “May she rest in peace. Your mother must have been beautiful.” She clucked her tongue and the sympathy faded, quickly replaced by a brisk expression. “We’ll run through the walk from the throne in the ballroom back up to the mezzanine once you are in the proper shoes.”

I made a face at the ugly heels I’d be forced to wear. The dress’s skirts bloomed out and covered my legs and feet entirely. I failed to see the reasoning behind having to wear the traditional footwear when they figured there was no need for me to wear the same style of undergarments as Annabelle herself.