Chapter 4 - All that Glitters
I was dressed in clothes that weren't mine. Finery that I was never meant to wear. Clothes that belonged to Lady Isabelle. Despite the clothes, my heart was rattled. It felt like I was stuck in a trance. I could still see her face when I closed my eyes. That beautiful face turned blue, all the life drained from her body.
Lady Isabelle was dead and I was going to be her replacement. I didn't want to think of what that spelled for me.
Doom. Nothing but doom.
The guards didn't say a word to me, all the way to the north isles. I didn't even realise we had gotten to the castle until one of them tugged at me violently as the car halted at the steps of the castle. I looked up through my veil and saw the castle I had once known. I had once lived and worked. But this time we were parked right in front of the north wing. The part of the castle no one really visits because it's not where the alpha king stays. It's where his son stays. The dejected and disgraced Prince Rowan.
"Stand up."
The guard said gruffly as he opened the car door.
I pulled at my heavily beaded dress and managed to get out. The other guard was talking to one of the staffs in the castle. He was dressed in the typical castle colors, a deep shade of purple and sunshine yellow. One of them looked at me with a frown on his red sunburned face.
"Prince Rowan's bride you say?"
He asked as he looked me from head to toe. I was shaking slightly as he looked at me, hoping he wouldn't realise that something was wrong. That I didn't exactly look lady like under all the heavy clothes or that I didn't own. Every inch of me was covered with the scratchy fabric. My face was veiled just to be safe, even my hands were covered in delicate lace and velvet gloves. I looked every bit the blushing bride except I was far from blushing.
The guards talked with each other for a while before one of then disappeared inside with a grunt. Then he came back out with a tall lanky man with a menacing stare.
The man stared at me for a long time before he beckoned towards me.
"Come with me."
He said.
"And get whatever luggage she has out of the cars and into Prince Rowan's quarters."
I followed the man as fast as I could in the uncomfortable contraption I was in. The shoes hurt my heels more than standing for hours did and it was hard to walk in such a heavy dress.
"We have been expecting you. We went on with the wedding already."
He started and I nodded.
"Prince Rowan as appended his signature on the marriage certificate, all we need is your signature and then it will be done. There will be no need for a crowd or any other frivolities. Nobody's got time for that. Or to even transport the Prince from his living quarters to the chapel."
I nodded my head again as we walked through the hall, with my heels clacking on the marbled floor.
The man turned again and frowned at me.
"Have you got no mouth? Can't you talk?"
"I can talk sir."
I managed feebly.
The man halted and took another look at me.
Then he said abruptly, "Take off your veil."
He said and my heart dropped.
God please don't let him recognise me. Don't let him know me. Don't let him remember what Lady Isabelle looked like. I prayed silently as my trembling hands lifted to peel away the veil from my face.
Part of my hair was covering the mark on my forehead, I hope he doesn't notice that the styling was to conceal my otsayak mark. Or that something was off.
The man stared at me for what seemed to be eternity.
"I thought you'd be paler."
He said and I managed a smile despite the lump in my throat. He was right, I was several shades darker than Lady Isabelle who had skin and smooth and pale as an alabaster.
"I like to garden."
I answered.
"Your mother was blonde. I could have sworn you were blonde too. You shouldn't spend so much time in the sun...."
"Are those curls in your hair? You really are not what I expected at all."
He said and I faked a smile.
"It is the latest style."
I said as I touched my hair nervously. My hair was naturally curly, but Lady Isabelle had long straight blonde hair. Neither of her parents had a curl in their hair. I had to come up with more excuses fast or the truth would be out.
The man scoffed.
"Trust me you won't have need of all that over here. You'd spend all your life taking care of your husband the Prince Rowan. Nothing else."
There was a sinister smile on his face, almost as if he was mocking me. I nodded my head and he turned back and we continued our journey.
That was close, I thought as I heaved a sigh of relief.
Finally we got to what I assumed was a small chapel. There was a priest in front already waiting for me, dressed in white robes. He was holding a paper in his hand. I assumed that was the marriage certificate.
"There she is!"
"Come and sign here! I haven't got all day, I have to leave in a bit."
He said as he placed the paper on a table and tapped it impatiently. I was handed a quill pen and I saw the space to sign that had been left under Lady Isabelle's name.
I had never signed a document before and I didn't know what to expect, but it shouldn't be that hard, I thought as I hurriedly wrote my name.
I had written my name before realising that I shouldn't have even done that, before I could move to correct it, the Priest snatched the paper from me.
"There there. We're done."
.........
I had never been one to shrink from duty, but as I approached Prince Rowan's quarters, my heart beat with a mixture of dread and resolve. The rumors of the state of his quarters was popular gossip , but nothing could have prepared me for what awaited behind that heavy oak door.
I hesitated, my hand hovering over the brass handle. With a deep breath, I pushed the door open, and the assault on my senses was immediate and brutal.
I heard it was bad, but I certainly felt like the news had been exaggerated a bit, but as I stood in front of the door, I knew that they were not exaggerating. At all.
A rancid stench rolled out, thick and oppressive, clawing its way into my nostrils and making my eyes water. I gagged, instinctively covering my nose with my hand. The air inside was damp and heavy, reeking of neglect and decay.
The room itself was a ghastly sight. Shadows clung to the corners, amplifying the feeling of desolation. Dust motes danced in the feeble light that managed to penetrate the grime-covered windows. The once elegant furnishings were now a stark mockery of their former glory, draped in cobwebs and thick layers of dirt.
I stepped inside, my shoes sticking slightly to the filth-encrusted floor. My eyes were drawn to the bed at the center of the room. Prince Rowan lay there, motionless, amidst a sea of stained sheets and tattered blankets. The bed itself was a disaster, the mattress sagging under his weight, covered in dark, ominous stains whose origins I dared not contemplate.
His wheelchair, was discarded carelessly to the side, one wheel crooked and useless. How did he even use it?! The prince himself looked ghastly, his once handsome features obscured by a wild tangle of matted black hair and a thick, unkempt beard. His clothes, much like his bed, were filthy, clinging to his form with the unmistakable signs of days, perhaps weeks, of wear.
I gasped, the sound escaping me louder than I intended. The foul air filled my lungs, and I fought the urge to retch. The noise stirred him, and his eyes fluttered open, bleary and bloodshot. He blinked at me, confusion and irritation mingling in his gaze.
"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse, as if unused for days. He struggled to prop himself up on one elbow, wincing at the effort. "What are you doing here?!"
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the tumult of emotions churning inside me. I struggled to compose my words in my head before speaking them out.
"Your Highness, I am your wife."
He laughed then, a bitter, broken sound. "Wife?! I didn't think you'd actually come. I thought they were joking. Anyway, make yourself at home." He gestured weakly around the room. "This is your home now. A fitting realm isn't it?"
I took a step closer, ignoring the way the filth seemed to cling to my shoes, the way the air grew heavier with each breath. "This is... how can one live in such horrible conditions?!"
He looked at me then, really looked at me, and I wondered what he was thinking about. "Take off your veil. What did you say your name was again?"
I stood at the side of the bed contemplating what to reply with. I removed my veil slowly.
"Lady Isabelle Elena Carstairs," I said softly. "Let me help you. Let me help you clean up..."
He looked at me and shook his head.
"I met Lady Isabelle seven years ago on a trip to the human continent. She had long golden locks and blue eyes. You look nothing like her."
"I will ask again..."
He said quietly. I started to tremble slightly with fear. He knew. He knew that I was a fake.
The plan was ruined before it even began.
I did not consider the possibility that Prince Rowan might have met Lady Isabelle.
"Who are you?"