“She did a fantastic job on you—it was quite a performance,” the queen said as the carriage entered Hyde Park. The crowds were not as heavy inside as on the boulevards. Eleanor sniffed and rearranged her blankets. Even though spring had come to London, the cold and damp never quite went away.
Such a pretty city, Marie thought. She looked out over the park grounds, with their strangely melancholy weeping beech trees. She would miss this when she went to the Americas. Gill had told her that the Saturnia was scheduled to make its return passage to New York, and they would be on that ship when it did. It wouldn’t be long now. Marie sighed and the queen gave her a sharp glance.
“Sometimes I wonder, my child, if you truly enjoyed the ball that evening,” Eleanor said.
“I did—of course I did,” Marie said. She attempted a smile, but it was difficult to lie, even then. She had to remember she was doing it for Gill. “All my dreams came true that night. It was truly a magical night. I will remember it forever.”
Eleanor settled deeper into her blankets. She looked like a wizened elf buried under wool. “Funny, I don’t recall you ever mentioning ‘dancing at the ball’ as one of your dreams when you were a child. You always seemed a little bored by the whole spectacle.”
Marie shrugged. She couldn’t recall sharing any of her childhood dreams and fantasies with her mother.
“I for one, was sad at the end of the evening,” Eleanor said, her voice gravelly. “I was so disappointed, truly. I wondered whether I should mention it, and decided it was best if I did.”
Her mother’s stare was piercing and cold, like that of the gargoyles on top of the palace. For a brief moment Marie felt the hair on her arms stand up in terror. Eleanor knew about the illusion spell—she had to. And now she would send her child to the gallows for her deception. This was her mother’s way of sentencing her; Marie would not have been surprised if the captain of the Queen’s Guard, who was riding in front of them, turned back and apprehended her immediately. “What do you mean, Mother?” Marie said, and coughed loudly and messily into her handkerchief.
“I was sad and disappointed, for my girl did not come to my room after the party. Remember when you used to do that?” she asked. “After every royal ball?”
Marie turned to her mother and smiled in relief as she dabbed her mouth. It was one of her favorite childhood memories—sitting in her mother’s dressing room, watching her take off her gown and jewels and turn back into her mother once more. How had she forgotten that?
“I was expecting you, I was. I missed you, Marie,” Eleanor said. “You are growing up so fast…and I think I had hoped to hold on to you for a little longer.…”
“Oh Mother, I’m sorry, I was so selfish—the ball took so much out of me—I just needed to rest—I’m sorry,” she said, reaching across the carriage to take her mother’s hands in hers.
They remained that way for the second loop of the park, and Eleanor released her grasp first. “You know, my child, you do not have to pretend with me, like you did for everyone at the ball. That kiss—a little over the top, don’t you think? I know you do not love him, and that perhaps you are angry that you have to marry him. But you may learn to love him, like I loved your father. That is all you can ask of our life—to do your duty to your country, to protect our interests and serve our people, and hope that happiness comes as well. If you are lucky and try very hard, it will.”
“Yes, Mother,” Marie said, turning away. They were silent for the rest of the trip.
A few days later, Marie visited Aelwyn at the charter house. She found her friend sitting alone, looking out the window pensively. Aelwyn looked as drawn and tired as Marie did, and Marie wondered who, exactly, was benefiting from this. Both of them looked ill. Perhaps it was a sign that she was on the wrong path, that they both were—but she could not admit it to herself. She had to do this; it was their only chance—her only chance—for freedom and happiness. She had to shove her feelings aside, especially her loyalty to her mother, to do this. Gill—think of Gill and his love for you, and the life you will share together, she reminded herself. That is all that matters.
“Marie,” Aelwyn said. “You startled me.”
“I’m sorry—I had to see you—”
“Because you are leaving.”
“Yes. Tomorrow evening, at the garden party. You must take my place at the dance. I will tell the court I don’t feel well enough for dinner, but will join them for dancing and supper afterward. At midnight, Gill and I will leave the castle through the basement tunnels by the back gates, and you will appear at the dance as the lovely Princess Marie.”
“He has the spell-key?”
“No.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know, but he says that the wards will be down when I cross. Can you do anything to help us? Doesn’t the sisterhood work on those shield spells?”
“I will try to make sure the wards don’t come back up too soon. I can give you more time. I can’t bring them down myself—only the spell-key can do that—but I can keep
them open once they are down.”
“He will be waiting for me outside with a hansom cab. The ship sails a day later.”
“So soon,” Aelwyn said. “Are you truly certain this is what you want?”
Marie nodded her head, and said the same thing she had said when she first came to ask her friend for aid. “Please. Help us. I am begging. Winnie, I know I am asking so much of you. But, don’t you see—this is all for the good—Mother will have a healthy heir, and Leo will have a wife who loves him—won’t he? Won’t he?”
Finally, Aelwyn nodded. “As you wish. I will play both parts for a while,” she said slowly. “It won’t be too hard, as the Order is going into its silent recess where the sisters are in seclusion for a month, and I am to remain in my cell for a good part of the day. At the end of it, they will discover that I have ‘escaped’ as well, leaving a note that makes it clear I have returned to Avalon.”
“It will be done, then,” Marie said, putting her hand on Aelwyn’s cheek. “You will be me. And I will be with Gill.”