Alexandria: The Lost Princess

Chapter 15 - Part 2

Dresses lay scattered across the floor, every colour, and design imaginable. My back spazzes in anger from the constant relacing of corsets. Estella huffs, tossing another dress carelessly to the floor and I groan. Another dress to the floor meant another one to try on, a dress I know I will never wear.

This is their idea of a distraction, preparations for the ball. Fiddling with the backing, she giggles darkly. Over time I learned Estella though humbly submissive she has a desire for being troublesome and poor Wilfrid is always her victim. She grasps my hips and turns me around yet again, snickering in preparation to annoy Wilfrid for the thousandth time today. "Is the princess beautiful, Wilfrid?"

Sprawled across the couch, he groans, his arm covering his eyes from the afternoon sun drifting into the room. "You look like a princess," he grumbles with deep annoyance.

I burst into a roar of laughter, and Estella smiles widely at me. If only she knew that I was married to his general. "You did not even look this time!" I gasp for air, my lungs burning with amusement.

Snapping a glare our way he finally takes in the new dress. A bright yellow flowing puff of material, it is nothing but hideous. His eyes flash with an emotion, and I recall it being the same look he gave me the night at the inn when he opened up to me. Plastering a mask across his features, he storms out with a grumble. "It's all fake."

I gasp, lowering my head in shame and the door slams shut. Did he see right through the fake interest? Does he realize I'm planning to escape?

Estella huffs, spinning me around and tapping her lower lip, "Hm, I thought this one would have been it."

Stepping out of the dress, I leave it on the floor. Estella throws her hands into the air and plops down on the couch, "we have been through every dress in the castle!"

Turning around my bare skin exposed in the body length mirror Estella had brought in. Nothing felt right, each dress was nothing more than a disguise, a pretend princess. I am a fraud. "None of them fit me correctly," I grumble. Guilt tugs at my stomach, Estella's continuous efforts are for nothing but an event that will never arrive.

"It's alright," Estella chirps, "We will find a perfect dress, don't worry! I'll make the lords hunt through the crowds to just see you dance!" Her thoughts sending a disgusted shiver through me. "Oh, how wonderful you would look twirling together with a lord, your dress flowing with each step," she dreams excitedly.

I groan, "Estella, I'm not interested in falling in love."

"I know, I know but come on Lord Henry is just the sweetest. I could see him marrying you, and you being truly happy."

"Maybe I'll just marry Little Lord Samuel," I cry out dreamily, "Oh, I could easily carry him away with me." Estella breaks out into loud cries of laughter. Clutching my stomach I gasp for air, losing control of myself. We both topple over in a fit of giggles. Out of all the lords he was the only one invited as my guest but not as a suitor, for he is no more than the age of six.

A knock on the door causes our giggles to cease. Estella scrambles to her feet, grabbing my robe from the chair she tosses it to me. Wrapping myself up, Estella rushes to the door and presses her dress down into a more presentable position. With a slow tug, she opens the door, and Wilfrid walks in.

A few ladies carrying bundles of fabric saunter in behind him, along with a man who looks remarkably familiar. With a quick curtsey, the ladies rush to the table and place their items down. Wilfrid remains formal before me, gesturing to the man beside him. "This is Augustin from the silk table at the marketplace." My eyes widen in recognition.

Augustin slightly quivers into a bow. "Your Highness, it is a true honour to meet you again, I apologize for not recognizing you at the market."

The memories of that woman being attacked flood into my thoughts. Wilfrid notices my anxiety and takes charge. "The princess was in disguise, Augustin, there is no need to apologize." Wilfrid only ever uses my title in the presence of others, fearful of what image the other name might give off. Wilfrid glances to me, and I nod.