“Because only a mage tutored in the dark arts could unleash the power of Pandora’s curse,” Aelywyn said. “And the most powerful enchanters of the world are in service to the queen, and work for the empire.”
“Well, maybe he was lucky,” Marie said. “That’s what everyone says about Leo, you know—that he’s blessed. The seers say there was a shower of shooting stars on the day he was born.”
Aelwyn shrugged. “Don’t they say that about every royal prince? Don’t they say that about you?” She smiled as she sprinkled another dusting of powder on Marie’s hair to make it shine, and rubbed a rosy pigment into her cheeks.
Marie peered at herself in the mirror. A naughty smile crept on her face. “Remember how we used to play twins?” she asked.
Aelwyn remembered but she shook her head, knowing what Marie would ask next. “No, it’s not right.”
“Please? It’s so fun—please do it! Winnie! Please!”
Aelwyn pursed her mouth in disapproval but as Marie continued to insist, a reckless rebellion overcame her better sensibilities. Marie always could goad her into mischief. It had been the princess’s idea, after all, to make the sparklers that had started the fire in her bedroom. “You must never tell anyone,” Aelwyn warned.
“I never have. I promise,” said Marie.
Taking a quick look around to make certain they were alone, Aelwyn blew a puff of smoke from her hand. It sent a shower of silver sparks dancing around them. “Did it work?” she asked, when it cleared.
Marie laughed in delight. “Look for yourself!”
Aelwyn stared at the beautiful princess in the mirror. Marie’s face was vibrant, her cheeks pink, her eyes shining, her brown hair thick and glorious, everything about her blooming in the prime of health—with no sign of illness or the wasting plague. Then Marie put her own cheek next to hers. There were two of them in the mirror now. Two princesses, who looked exactly alike—except that one was just slightly more radiant than the other.
The illusion glamour. One of the most powerful spells known to Avalon, it had the power to make people see only what you wanted them to see. It had the ability to fool the world and blind it from the truth. Viviane had taught her to use her power sparingly, to keep it hidden from those who would use it against her. “Not even your father can know you can do this,” her aunt had warned. “He is wary of the glamour mask. It would cause him to be wary of you.”
But Aelwyn couldn’t resist. And anyway, Marie already knew she could do it.
Her friend brought her back to the moment. “Winnie, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you since you returned. When you left, I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I was about what happened, the day of the fire,” Marie whispered. “It was all my fault.”
“We were children,” Aelwyn said stiffly.
“It’s no excuse. They sent you away. I know how hard it must have been,” Marie said. “I’m sorry, Winnie.”
Aelwyn unclenched her fists; she hadn’t noticed how tightly she was holding them until now. “I forgive you,” she said, blinking back tears.
Marie nodded and wiped the corners of her eyes as well. “Look,” she said hoarsely, pointing back to the mirror. “You’re me,” she said wistfully.
“If only,” Aelwyn joked, then snapped her fingers and just like that, she was herself again.
The Prussian ambassador was satisfied. He had been very complimentary of her looks, which Marie attributed to Aelwyn’s handiwork rather than anything real. “Inspected and found satisfactory,” she had joked to her ladies after the gruesome affair that had included a private visit with the Prussian royal physician. She had tried to protest, but her mother had silenced her with a stony frown as the nurses led her away.
During the examination Marie had been made to stand this way and that, while the creepy doctor had peered down her throat, inside her ears, and in her unmentionables. Marie had snuck a peek over her shoulder and caught the doctor scribbling “virgin, fertile,” in her chart after the exam. Truly? How could they be so certain she was chaste? And who was to say she was fertile? Just another way to assuage any concerns over the upcoming alliance, she thought. Even so, she was nonetheless relieved to have passed the test. There had been many queens who had been unable to produce heirs to the throne, and had lost their lives and crowns in the process. Marie did not think she would be susceptible to such a fate, but she wasn’t certain she was so keen to bear a child so soon, either. She was still a child herself; what would she do with one?
Now that the princess had been deemed acceptable by his advisors, Leo was on his way to the palace to meet his bride. There was still the matter of dissolving his prior engagement, but the ambassador assured them that Isabelle and her guardian would be in town shortly to sign the papers releasing him from his obligation. The prince himself would be in London in the next week or so, and the court was buzzing with excitement and pride, as well as relief that the long war with Prussia was finally over. Yet the more her ladies congratulated her and made a fuss, the more depressed Marie became. She could hardly force a smile during wardrobe fittings, and was absent-minded and distracted at every royal occasion.
As the days went by, preparations for the upcoming season began in earnest, with the traditional opening of Parliament by the queen and the city filling up as noble families from all over the empire arrived for the festivities. Marie was starting to be a bit of an embarrassment to the whole court. The princess, instead of acting like a girl on the cusp of a great romance—awaiting the appearance of her soon-to-be-beloved—was sulking around the palace, holed up in her room, eating sweets and not speaking to anyone.
One afternoon not long after the ambassador’s visit, Marie remained in her room once more, rather than taking tea with a few court favorites. Her ladies did their best to encourage her, but she would not be persuaded to change her mind. “I need to be left alone, I feel ill,” she insisted, thankful that she always had the wasting plague to fall back on when she didn’t want to do something.
The ladies bowed and exited the room, but a few minutes later there was a knock on the door again. “I told you, I want to be left alone,” she snapped, then immediately felt guilty for taking that tone with the servants.
“Sorry, Princess, I’ll come back later,” the voice called.
Gill?!
At the sound of his voice, Marie hustled out of her bed and opened the door in a breathless rush. “I didn’t know it was you!” she cried, throwing her arms around the soldier who stood in her doorway.
Gill Cameron laughed, but looked around nervously to see if anyone had seen the princess’s enthusiastic display of affection. Luckily, the hallway was empty for once, and Marie was without her usual entourage of ladies. “I just got back from leave. Thought I’d tell you I’m back on duty.”
“I’m so glad! I didn’t think I would ever see you again!” she said, pulling him into the room, even as her cheeks turned bright pink at her outburst.