History of Fictitious: Volume Two

Chapter 9

"This is my mother's favorite place. She's had so many memories painted here. I thought it would be a good place for us to talk," Prince Edward says, guiding me from the ballroom. I can't believe the time has passed so quickly and that I intend to go through with my plan.

I look around at the paintings, "They're beautiful." Then I remember why I'm here, "But isn't there a room full of gold or something, Your Highness?" That sentence comes out wrong, it sounds like I'm joking again.

Prince Edward laughs, "Yes, but that's my father's favorite place, and he doesn't allow anyone in there. You don't have to call me Your Highness either, Your Highness."

I smile, but I wish I could stop, "Then what do you wish me to call you . . . Charming?"

"No, call me Edward."

"Alright then, Edward it is!"

"Now, do I get a name this time? A real name, of course," he says as we walk down the hall. I avoid looking at the painting of Mother as we pass it.

"What if I like being called Your Highness!" I say, still in my teasing manner. Then in my best snobby voice, I say, "I want to be called Princess Beauty of Them All! Now that I think about it. And I came tonight to make sure that you give me everything I desire before you decide to make me your bride. I want diamonds that you can see thousands of miles away! Plus pure dresses made out of pristine gold with refined necklaces, earrings, and bracelets to go with it!"

He stops me, looking like he just witnessed someone steal from a child, "What are you trying to do? It clearly doesn't seem like you want to be my bride if you're putting this much effort in being . . . well, a spoiled girl!"

My mouth is left open. I'm so bad at acting is all I can think as I find my voice. I don't find it and sit on the floor at his feet. Thankfully, I don't cry and do the opposite. I laugh, cupping my hands to my face. The laugh sounds like a cry, so he crouches beside me, confused.

"Are you crying?" he asks, trying to see through my hands.

Edward pulls back my hands, and my smile is seen. His face relaxes, but he's still confused. I would be too if I were him. I just crashed to the floor and started laughing because I failed at tricking him.

"Was that all a joke?" he says, helping me to my feet.

I stop laughing. "No, it wasn't. You're right, I don't want to marry you. That's the truth. I just didn't want you to think you were in love with me when I broke the news, so I tried being a girl no one likes."

A shattered expression crosses his face, "If that's the case, then I guess I haven't felt love yet. Otherwise, you wouldn't say that." Then he says, "But I want to know for certain."

With a quick pace, he pulls me close to him. He kisses me, and I kiss him back. When we break apart, it's like it never happened, yet it did. My heart's still beating fast, and I want more.

"You love me, and you can't deny it. Just like I have loved you since we were young. I know it's you, Ella. And you're a princess in more ways than you know. Don't hide from me," he says before his voice fades.

My eyes open slowly. The first horrid thing I see is the ash pile in the fireplace, and there's no question that my face is covered in soot. My reason for never looking into the mirror.

I stand, fold the blanket, and think of my dream. Who is to say that he knows already? It's hard to tell, but I remember what he said last night. I'm certain he called me a princess.

There's a rustle off to the side as boots grind on the stone. It's the first glance I give to the rest of my surroundings since I woke up. I should have noticed Edward there before, sleeping peacefully in Mother's old rocking chair. An odd place for a prince to be. He must have slept there all night.

I walk closer to him when I see he's holding something. I kneel beside the chair, tilting my head to see what it is. Carefully I take it out of his hand. It's the cross stitch I started to work on when Mother died. I press the finished pattern to my face. I miss them both so much. I've been so selfish. I feel like I just worried for myself when Father died.

Edward wakes up to my cries. I hear him depart from his dreams and shift in the chair. I should stop and make breakfast. Working will block the pain. Instead, I stay on the floor.

"Ella," Edward whispers as he wraps his arms around me in a warm hug. This surprises me how quickly he comes to my aid.

His comfort is what breaks me from my pain. I push him away and stand again. I give the cross stitch one last look before I put it down. The tears have faded. He looks at me, worried.

"Please, it's nothing. Crying never helped anyone. I need to cook breakfast, Your Highness. Good day," I say, turning to cook the first meal of the day. He walks out of the room after that.

"Ella, where's breakfast!" Tessa shouts from the dining room.

I cut some bread, spread butter on, and set them on plates. It's breakfast, and she didn't say it had to be something delightful. She just wants food to fill her small stomach, so that's what I'm giving her.

Taking the plates, I go into the dining room and set them in front of her. She just stares at it with unbelief. The same goes for basically everyone else in the room. I bow down to them.

"You wanted breakfast. I gave you what you wanted. I have work to do. We live in Amishi after all, so tell me what I need to do. Wash dishes, scrub the floor a thousand times, clean all the fireplaces twice that much, or maybe I should go to each floor and paint it white, silver, and all those great colors. You can order me to do that now, I'm your servant. I'm the first servant in this house. In what used to be my house. What else do you want me to do? Please, I want to forget the pain!"

Lady Harriet stands from her seat, "You're right, Ella, you are a servant now, but why are you acting like this? We tried our best. We never forced work upon you before! You did it merrily without complaint."

A sad laugh rises in my chest, "I did what my mom did when she was still alive. That would include feeding the chickens, collecting their eggs, doing the laundry, and making breakfast. She never scrubbed the floors, cleaned the fireplaces, painted the walls, or chopped wood by herself. Everyone helped with that. You just assumed that I enjoyed doing everything. Then you would tell Father that everyone helped out. I've been kind during the years and have never told him that only Clara helped. I don't even know if you realize that he's gone, and I don't think you're worried about me as much as you claim."

I walk out of the room after that. My heart immediately regrets it, but what am I going to do? Go back and say I'm sorry, then take orders from them again. All that I said is true. When Father and Lady Harriet got married and Father was gone off on a trip, I did all the extra work by myself. Soon that's what I thought was my ticket to belonging. I just wanted to make them happy. That's what I've always wanted to do.

While I get out the supplies for cleaning the fireplace, I think about what I should say when I have to face them again. It will happen, it's unavoidable. Then there's the winter ball. What am I going to do about that? The dream proved I'm horrible at lying. Everything has turned into a jumbled knot. I care, I love, yet I don't.

Closing my eyes, I remember something Mother once told me. It was just the day before she died. It's been in my heart for the longest time. It's the reason for every choice I've made. She told me to reach for the stars, to act with kindness, to commit to love, and to endure to the end. Race to happiness.

Lifting my chin, I see that I need to endure this pain. I need to get on my feet and keep going. I can still do this. Reach, act, commit, and endure. Her and Father's song comes to my mind. I sing it ever so quietly as I clean out the grim.

There is now a fire keeping you safe and warm.

Different thoughts race to my mind. I dream of being that princess dancing among the stars of Heaven. Mother and Father are a pair of millions of stars. At least they're finally together, having feasts of apple pie and chocolate strawberries. They could be watching over me right now. I wish I could listen to what they have to say.

One thing I have decided is that I will go to the ball and not push him away. From what I still have of their words, I should try to see where this goes. I tried not to, but I love him. I just have no idea if this romance will work. For what it's worth, I'll remember Prince Edward, Ed . . . forever. Nariel will be happy. I'm ready for the real thing. Too bad it's still weeks away.