The Princess Game: A Reimagining of Sleeping Beauty (The Four Kingdoms Book 4) Read online

  Celine, still reading over my shoulder, snorted. “You really haven’t had a single ugly day in your life, have you, Lettie?”

  I smiled at her use of my nickname, but otherwise ignored the comment. Celine had only been a child when my curse had taken effect. She knew the cost of my beauty and had never envied it.

  I watched her while she returned to reading. She had no need to be envious. At fourteen she was already as beautiful as our other sisters, Clarisse and Cordelia. I pushed aside the wish that I could have had an ordinary beauty like theirs. The thought was so well-worn it was starting to lose its effect on me.

  Celine let out a hearty laugh, and then pointed at a spot on the next page in response to my enquiring look.

  The court hummed when the two godmothers present both stepped forward to gift the young princess. Such an extravagance, when her older siblings had each received only a single gift at their Christenings. The first gifted her with great beauty and the second with great intelligence. Had a child ever been more blessed? She would outshine even her siblings.

  “For the record, Lettie, I don’t feel outshone – whatever that even means.”

  “Of course not! You’re very beautiful as well, Celine. And you didn’t need a godmother to gift it to you, either.”

  Celine snorted. “I notice that you say nothing about intelligence. But it gets better.” She pointed back at the page.

  But even as the court exclaimed their delight, a strange hush fell over the proceedings. The huge doors of the great hall had been forced open, and a single figure stood in the doorway. Princess Melisande. A gasp rippled through the crowd.

  The princess strode straight to the baby in her cradle and gazed down upon her. Then her voice rang through the room as she uttered a curse on the child. Clutched in her hand was an object of power, and she used it to pronounce death over the baby. On her sixteenth birthday, she would die. The whole room stood frozen, too shocked to prevent the king’s sister from leaving the room. She was neither seen nor heard of again.

  Celine paused, a thoughtful look on her face. “What do you think happened to Aunt Melisande? I’ve always wondered. I mean, she can’t actually have disappeared.”

  I smiled at Celine blankly while inside I fought a resurgence of my earlier turbulent emotions. It didn’t normally hit me like this, twice in one day. My aunt was rarely mentioned at court, and even more rarely in front of me.

  I forced myself to respond. “I’m sure I don’t have the slightest idea. It’s a very tricky puzzle.”

  Celine sighed. “Of course you don’t. But never mind that, listen to this next bit.” She pulled the book out of my hands. “The queen immediately became hysterical.”

  Celine chuckled with delight. “Mother, hysterical! Can you imagine?”

  I shook my head, my own chuckle only slightly forced. That had to be a fabrication. Or, at least, a large exaggeration. Our mother never did anything as fatiguing as hysterics.

  She threw the book aside, not bothering to watch where it landed. “Whoever wrote it must have been an idiot.”

  “Does being overly dramatic make you an idiot?” I asked the question in a tone of exaggerated innocence, watching for her reaction. She rolled her eyes and didn’t answer, standing and stretching instead. She was either entirely unbothered by my wry question, or she didn’t grasp that I was poking fun at her. Knowing Celine, it could easily be either one. She wasn’t in the least sensitive and was more likely to laugh than feel hurt when our older siblings criticised her.

  But, on the other hand, since my sixteenth birthday, when the curse had taken effect, no one ever attributed a hidden meaning to my words. It was the only way I managed to get through some of the more boring royal functions. I enjoyed seeing how far I could push both the curse and the credulity of the courtiers. My sly humour amused myself, if no one else.

  Celine disappeared into her wardrobe and my eyes found the discarded book on the floor. I didn’t need to read on to know the rest of the story. I had made my parents tell it to me often enough that I could easily picture the scene.

  After my aunt had pronounced death over me, the court had been thrown into chaos. Until another unexpected figure had emerged. It turns out three godmothers, not two, had attended my Christening. And the third had yet to give her gift.

  After some thought, she had offered my parents a modification of the curse. “Death is powerful,” she had reportedly said. “And only the High King himself can entirely defeat it. But as his servants, we have been given the power to fight against it where we can. If you desire, I can give the gift of sleep. Instead of death, she will sleep, and a kiss of true love shall awaken her.”

  “How long will she sleep for?” my father had asked.

  The godmother had looked a little uncomfortable. “That’s hard to say, Your Majesties. It could be many years.”

  “Many years! Is she to awake to find her family old and grey–she robbed of us, and us robbed of her?” For all her placid disposition, my mother’s love for her children is warm and genuine.

  The godmother had asked, somewhat scathingly, I imagined, if the queen would prefer that the whole court slept along with the princess. No one had even bothered to reply to that sally.

  It had been the Duchess of Sessily, newly arrived at her title, who had suggested an alternate solution. “If you are able to offer sleep instead of death, could it be just her mind that sleeps? She has been gifted with great intelligence. To rob her of that, after only sixteen years, would be a fate like enough to death, would it not?”

  My parents hadn’t been enthusiastic about that suggestion either, but no one had managed to come up with a better one. So the final gift had been given, and my fate had been sealed. Or so everyone in Lanover thought. I alone knew there was more to the story. And trapped inside my own mind, there was no one I could tell. It had been a lonely three and a half years.

  Chapter 2

  I fell back to lie on the coverlet and gaze at the ceiling. The story had another chapter, one that I would never find written in any book.

  Before the curse had taken effect, I spent my spare time training or studying. I trained because I was determined to master a skill that hadn’t been magically gifted to me. And since Rafe spent all his time training, it had been easy to convince him to teach me whenever our tutors weren’t paying attention.

  I studied because I was determined to find a way around my curse. I couldn’t bear the idea of the coming transformation. What would it be like to lose the best part of my mind? Would I even still be me? I had been the smartest and the best for as long as I could remember. I couldn’t bear to lose it all.

  I didn’t tell anyone, even Rafe, about my secret determination. I pored over books in the library until late at night and pestered our tutors with questions.

  Two nights before my sixteenth birthday, I had summoned my godmother in despair. She had been older than I was expecting, the grey in her hair matching the grey of her wings, and with a clear no-nonsense air. I guess when you had seven princes and princesses to deal with, a bit of no-nonsense was required.

  “I wondered how long it would be before I heard from you.” She looked me up and down.

  I hadn’t been able to escape the sense that she didn’t quite approve of what she saw. It had been a novel sensation. Already, at age fifteen, I was used to a very different reaction.

  “I need your help. Is there no way I can free myself from this curse?”

  “You’re leaving it a bit late to ask, aren’t you?”

  I bit my lip, unwilling to admit that I had wanted to find the solution for myself. I had been sure I would find one.

  She nodded knowingly. “A proud young thing, aren’t you?” She sighed. “I suppose it was inevitable given your Christening gifts.”

  “Surely you can do something!” With my birthday only days away, I was desperate enough to beg, if that was what she required.

  She regarded me silently for a moment. “The High King h
as seen your searching.” A knot that had been tightening in my chest for the last several weeks loosened. “But actions have consequences. And your curse is the consequence of a great many actions.” The knot tightened again.

  “Not my actions! I was only a baby.”

  She sighed. “Unfortunately, consequences don’t always fall on those who most deserve them. The innocent suffer along with the guilty.” She shot me a stern look. “Although how many are truly innocent? You have lessons of your own to learn. And much good can still come to your kingdom from this curse.”

  “But what about me?” I knew I should be brave, and willing to sacrifice anything for the kingdom, but I had been too scared. Perhaps courage was the lesson I had needed to learn.

  “Yes, well, that is why I am here. Your searching is to have some reward.”

  I held my breath, my eyes fixed on her face.

  “The kingdoms will believe that your mind sleeps. But inside,” she reached out a finger to touch my forehead, “you will remain yourself. Would you accept such a thing?”

  My desperation pushed me to nod agreement.

  “Very well, then. It is done.” She smiled at me a little wryly. “Somehow, I imagine that when next we meet, you will be a little more humble, my dear.”

  I had been too relieved to consider her words at the time, but their meaning had become clear once my birthday passed. And I had begun to suspect it was in the area of humility, not courage, that my godmother had found me wanting.

  It took me nearly a year to learn the full limitations of the curse, and to learn to follow its guidelines instinctively. A painful year of coughing fits and cramps and sudden splitting headaches.

  But all of that had seemed nothing compared to the far more painful blows to my pride. Once I had been universally admired – the most beautiful and intelligent of all my peers. Standing far above even my own siblings, who had been born with every advantage gifted to royalty.

  Once I turned sixteen, everything changed. The eyes turned on me were still full of admiration for my beauty, but the other emotions they now held were pity, scorn or, worst of all, dismissal. The sting of it took a long time to fade. Sometimes I felt it still.

  But interestingly, I found a few advantages to the change. No one watched their words around me. Those at the palace who had grown accustomed to my breathtaking beauty, often stopped noticing me at all. My education in human nature grew by leaps and bounds until it rivalled the book learning I already possessed.

  When the rumours of Rangmeran aggression became too loud to be ignored, I recruited my first agent and the spymaster, Aurora, was born. I discovered that as long as my face was covered, my identity obscured, the curse would let me act to protect my kingdom. I could speak freely then, too, as long as I didn’t give myself away.

  I had thought long and hard about how Lanover could protect itself from the war hungry kingdom of Rangmere. We were rich, but our army was small, and we were ill-prepared for any assault. My father hoped the marriage alliance between Clarisse and the heir to the Rangmeran throne would be enough, but the rumours suggested otherwise.

  Northhelm had a strong military but lacked our wealth. A trade treaty with them, negotiated on terms favourable to them rather than us, would ensure their economic dependence on Lanover. If Rangmere ever moved against us, Northhelm would stand as our allies.

  The woman I had recruited was a minor aide to the Duchess of Sessily, and she made my suggestion to the Duchess. In an amazingly short period of time, the treaty was signed. I obviously hadn’t been the only one concerned about Rangmere.

  The positive reception of the idea ensured the loyalty of my new agent, and I began to build a network, spreading my eyes and ears further abroad. Eventually the duchess grew tired of the charade and demanded to know the source of her aide’s ideas. The woman had admitted that she served Aurora, and the duchess had demanded a meeting.

  I had met her at night in the garden, hanging back, to ensure she didn’t recognise me and had no chance to snatch off my scarf. It took some work, but I managed to convince her that my loyalty to the crown was absolute, and my anonymity maintained for personal reasons. Reluctantly she agreed to work with me, feeding my information to the king and queen for the good of the kingdom.

  In the two years since then we had even grown close, in a strange sort of way. Bound together by our secret service to the crown.

  Our kingdom had grown lax in the many years of peace. It shouldn’t have taken a curse for us to develop a spy network. The foiled threat from Rangmere had proved we needed to anticipate the dangers that might seek to destroy our people.

  My mind turned to the missing supplies and the note still tucked in my dress. I glanced towards the wardrobe, wondering how much longer before Celine returned.

  “I have no idea what is going on right now, Celine,” I called out.

  She popped her head out, smiling cheekily. “Do you ever?” I didn’t respond. “I’m trying out a new dress because there is absolutely nothing else to do.”

  That elicited a sympathetic smile. It had been raining for three days straight, and I knew that Celine was missing Cordelia, our middle sister. As the youngest Lanoverian royals, it would usually have been the three of us in here. And, since the curse, Cordelia was a lot more fun than I was.

  But Cordelia had travelled to the kingdom of Northhelm for our brother Rafe’s wedding and had fallen in love with a Northhelmian noble. Celine had been wild with jealousy at being left behind, and now Cordelia wasn’t coming back.

  I, on the other hand, had been glad not to go. I was needed here. And I’d had my own royal visit two years ago to the kingdom of Arcadia. I had only begun to build my network of agents then, so my absence had been less critical. It hadn’t been a particularly enjoyable trip, though. How could it be? Lanover had kept my curse quiet, and so the Arcadians had thought me nothing but an empty-headed fool.

  Of course, that was exactly what the Lanoverians thought of me, too, but at least they knew why.

  Celine disappeared back into her wardrobe, so I rolled onto my stomach and pulled out the note, shielding it from view with my body.

  For a moment, I let myself fall into my other persona. My bright, empty smile dropped away, and I could easily picture the expression that took its place. Confident, commanding, determined.

  The message was short and to the point.

  The night sentry roster has been switched for the small western gate. The new sentry has received several reprimands in the past for drinking and sleeping while on watch.

  I frowned down at it. Most people didn’t realise how much servants saw. How many little details they knew about the lives of everyone who lived in the palace. It was something I used to my advantage. My agents knew to keep me informed of anything unusual. Any changes to routine, however minor. And this one certainly seemed suspicious. It wasn’t what I’d been expecting, though.

  I tucked the note away and rolled over, smoothing my thoughts from my face as my sister emerged.

  “Celine!” I gasped, the contents of the message momentarily driven from my mind.

  My sister gave a satisfied smirk and spun in place. She wore a magnificent deep blue dress, with a plunging back and bare shoulders. She looked exquisite. But our mother would never let her wear it.

  “Where did it come from?” I knelt down in front of her to examine the material of the skirt. All of the palace seamstresses knew to take their instructions from the queen when designing the gowns of the youngest princess.

  “There’s a new seamstress in the city. She was delighted to receive a commission for a royal gown.”

  “Oh, Celine.” The poor woman would be so disappointed when the dress was never worn.

  “Don’t give me that look, Lettie. I need you to help me convince Mother. Everyone in the family trusts your judgement on clothes.” She lowered her voice before muttering, “Even if they don’t on anything else.”

  I laughed and shook my head. Celine didn’
t have a hope. The dress was clearly designed for an older woman, not a young teen. Our oldest, married sister Clarisse would look magnificent in it. But Celine wouldn’t even reach the beginning of adulthood for two more years. Our mother would never let her wear it in public.

  “The material is beautiful.” I ran my fingers over the soft silk again, sidestepping her request for help. I didn’t feel like an argument. The curse made them difficult, and my mind kept returning to my now-hidden note.

  “The whole dress is beautiful. It’s a triumph.” Celine grinned into the mirror in satisfaction.

  I shook my head, unable to repress a smile of my own. Dinner would be interesting. Watching Celine clash with our mother was like watching a raging sea beating against a solid rock. Our mother would remain calm and placid and entirely unmoving. She wouldn’t argue or rage, she was far too laid-back for that. She would simply let Celine storm on, unheeded. If called upon, she would calmly state her position, and at the end of the whole process she would remind Celine that the servants had been instructed to ensure the queen’s wishes were carried out.

  Celine knew from experience that the servants had been given permission to carry her back to her room and lock her inside if she tried to do something the queen had forbidden. I just hoped Celine didn’t spend too long sulking this time. I missed Cordelia, too, and didn’t look forward to being stuck inside the palace with no one but a moping Celine for company.

  A guilty thought snuck through my mind. I was five years older than Celine. Perhaps Mother would let me wear the dress. It was a little daring, yes, but I wasn’t fourteen. After a moment’s consideration, I shook my head regretfully. Celine would be so angry with me that it wouldn’t be worth it.

  It was a pity for the dress to go to waste, though. The deep blue reminded me of the dress I had worn for my introduction to the Arcadian court nearly two years ago. The colour was a perfect complement to my golden skin and dark chestnut hair. Of course, that was why Celine had chosen it, since she shared the same colouring. Most of us in the south did. The few northerners in our court stood out, looking pale and faded next to our darker tones.