Chasing Royalty

18

If she was right, then I would be in the lead.

“No,” I say, “that can’t be. I’ve disobeyed William too many times in the last few days to be in the lead.”

“But most of the times you’ve disobeyed him, you’ve done it with Violette and Emilienne. That’s why your scores aren’t that different.”

“If that were true, Alexanne would have the least number of cubes. She never does anything to disobey William. At least, not anything that he’ll notice.” I resist the urge to snatch a few cubes out of Alexanne’s vase and put them in mine.

“Maybe he isn’t looking for the simple black and white of right and wrong. He must be looking for deeper characteristics and morals. There’s more to being a queen than following what everyone else tells you. You have to make the right choices for the good of all people.”

I frown but don’t say anything.

Grace continues, “It would make sense why you have way less cubes than Alexanne. You’ve been brave and showed sympathy by searching for the murderer when Alexanne was too scared to disobey.”

I shake my head, “I don’t know. I find it unlikely that William would allow me to win this competition.”

“Unless William has no control whatsoever over this competition. It might be a completely separate set of unbiased judges who’ve never met you until now."

What if Grace is right and I’ve been winning this entire time. Should I continue trying to copy Alexanne or act like myself? If William isn’t the judge, who is? Is it someone in the castle right now, who I’ve talked to?

Grace puts a hand on my shoulder, “Don’t worry about it too much. The only thing you can do is work your hardest and show them that you deserve to be queen. As the competition goes on, it’ll become clearer. Let me finish preparing you for the funeral.”

I stare at the vases a little longer, and follow after her. I need to focus on doing well on my speech. William told us that will be judged and that might be my chance to pull ahead in the competition.

Once we get back to the Sitting Room, Grace touches up my hair. “I want to give something to you. Last night, I couldn’t sleep and I decided to do something with myself. I made it for you for today.”

She holds out a small, delicate handkerchief. It’s pure white with a white lily embroidered into the corner. I grin and lift it up.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.”

Grace smiles shyly, “Thank you, I thought you might need it for today. I won’t be with you throughout the funeral, so that’s the best support I can give you.”

I frown, remembering the tradition. It’s rare that ladies in waiting assisted us during funerals. It was supposed to represent family coming together to support each other rather than hired servants. Grace is more than family to me, but William won’t allow it.

Grace points to the right side of my dress, “I sewed in an extra pocket there for you to put it.”

I thank her again just as a guard knocks on the door. He calls out, “The carriages will be leaving within the next five minutes. It is requested that Admira come to the front of the castle.”

Grace hugs me, “Good luck. Do you best on the speech.”

I smiles nervously and we stride out of the door. Alexanne and Violette are already waiting in the carriages. I say goodbye to Grace and hurry inside. We have to ride a couple hours to reach the capital city of the kingdom, where the grand cathedral and mausoleum stand. Emilienne will be buried beside our mother and father.

We ride in our nervous silence. I run my speech continuously through my head. I try not to think that Emilienne’s body is riding in one of the carriages behind us. Today will be the last time I ever see my sister.

After a few, but very long hours, the carriages slow as the reach the center of the city. People clog up the streets, our carriage barely moving. Wails and cries ring up from the people, all of them mourning the death of Emilienne. How would they react if they knew it was a murderer? Would it be an angry, bloodthirsty crowd seeking revenge instead?

Will the public ever know what truly happened to Emilienne? Will her death forever be shrouded in mystery?

The carriages stop in front of a large meeting building. We’re escorted quickly inside, the public catching nothing but a glimpse of us. I suppose they want to save our spectacle for the dreary funeral procession.

I swallow hard when I see the shiny black casket sitting in the center of the room. Thankfully the lid is closed. Guards stand in a somber watch. I look away, trying to focus on anything but Emilienne’s casket.

William approaches us, “You know what to do, correct? Just follow the rest of the procession to the cathedral. Keep your face emotionless and don’t say anything to the crowds. You’ll have your chance to speak at the funeral. Try to keep the tears undercontrol. If you can’t help from crying, make sure it’s ladylike.”

I press my lips together to keep myself from saying anything. He has the audacity to ban us from crying at our own sisters funeral.

William takes are silence as understand, “Okay, let’s begin. Please go to your places.”

I bite my lip and follow Violette and Alexanne back to the front of the gates. The crowds see us through the spaces of the fence. They cry out, each trying to get our attention. Tears stain their faces, as if they actually knew Emilienne. How many tears are actually real?

Four noble men carry out the black coffin, taking place in front of us. We will bring up the back of the procession, William immediately behind us. We’ll march all the way to our kingdom’s most prestigious cathedral where the ceremony will be held. Emilienne will be laid to rest inside, next to my mother and my father’s coffins.

The trumpets in front of us burst into noise, signifying the start of the ceremony. The gates creak open, exposing us to the crowd. Carriages full of noblewomen and men and distant relatives go before us. Cheers and cries ring out.

Violette grabs on to my hand. “I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

I nod and reach grab Alexanne’s hand as well. We’ll do this together, to show the murderer that our bond cannot be broken.

Alexanne manages a smile and we begin our slow strides forward. The procession inches along, giving the people plenty of time to say their goodbyes.

Tears spring up in my eyes, but I force them away.

The crowd throws words at us, questioning how Emilienne died and if there is any foul play suspected. I force my mind to slip away.

Each step feels like a hundred. The soaring white cathedral comes into view. The crowd thickens the closer we get. The shouting becomes unbearable. I clutch on to Violette and Alexanne’s hands. They are the only thing keeping me grounded to reality.

We march through the grand doorway of the cathedral. Light shines through the stained glass windows, falling on to the pews. We follow the coffin up the rows to the front of the cathedral.

The pews are already filled with the people who were in the carriages. The noblemen and women, distant relatives, and royals from surrounding countries, all of them pretending to care. The thought of Emilienne’s funeral being filled with indifferent people makes me want to throw up, but I keep my features still.

The four noblemen lower the coffin on to the alter, bow, and trail off to the side. Violette, Alexanne, and I follow the perfect tradition, curtsying to the coffin, the crowd, and then take our seats to the right.

Hundreds of people are inside, yet there’s not a single whisper as William strides up the center aisle.

He follows the same pattern we performed, bowing to the coffin, the crowd, and then taking a seat next to us.

A priest walks up to the coffin. He bows his head into a quick prayer and turns to the crowd, “I thank all of you for attending the funeral of her majesty, Emilienne.”

The words send shivers across my skin. I know the truth and I keep repeating it through my head, but my mind refuses to understand.

Emilienne.

Is.

Dead.

I’m at her funeral. The priest is talking about her death.

The priest’s low voice drowns over me, but I can’t force myself to listen. He pretends that he knew Emilienne personally, praising her for all her good qualities. It’s the generic message you hear at every funeral. ‘She was such a good person. She cared about people. She will be missed. The end.’

The priests words hold the same message that my speech does. I’m sure Violette’s and Alexanne’s are just the same.

The priest leads us into a monotonous song, a few musicians playing along with us. If Emilienne had heard the song, she’d have slammed her palms into her ears, complaining about the lack of spirit. She would stand up right now, and start singing her own song.

Her voice echoes in my ears, “This is not how royalty should be treated, even in the death. My body’s been stolen, I at least deserve a good song.”

Tears escape my eyes before I can think about stopping them. With shaking hands I pull out the handkerchief Grace had given to me. I wipe away my tears, trying to get my emotions under control.

A little tear in the princess’ eye shows she’s human. Too many tears show she’s unstable. With the competition waging against me, I have to stay together.

I manage a sideways glance at my sisters besides me. Violette has a few tears gathered in her eyes, but she’s managed to keep them off her cheeks. The neckline of Alexanne’s dress is dappled with tearstains.

Violette stands beside me. I begin to rise as well, thinking it’s part of the service, but Alexanne puts out a hand to stop me.

The priests words reach my ear, “…Violette’s words on Emilienne.”

Violette steps up to the altar, curtsies respectively, and turns to the crowd.

She takes a deep breath and launches into her speech, “Emilienne will never be forgotten. She was kinder than anyone I ever knew. I chose not to…”

Violette continues into her speech with the message I suspected. It’s the exact same thing the priest said, just with different words. I can’t force myself to listen to it either.

The crowds praise rings out as Violette curtsies again, wiping away the single tear with her shaking hand. She slips back into her seat.

I rise, pressing my damp palms to my sides and force myself into my princess posture. My feet stumble to the altar. I mimic Violette, curtsying to the crowd and begin my speech.

“I know most of you did not know Emilienne personally, and I apologize for that. Knowing Emilienne is a privilege I could never fully express. Emilienne could make you laugh, even if there’s nothing you wanted to do more than cry. She would hate to see all of the tears on all of our faces.”

I bring the handkerchief up to my cheek and dry the tears.

“I have to apologize again because I know I won’t be able to get through all I plan to say without crying.”

I run all the words Augustine and I wrote through my head. I was going to talk about Emilienne wanting what was best for the kingdom and how selfless she was. We planned for me to say almost the exact thing the priest and Violette said.

Emilienne doesn’t want them to know that. I forget all the planned words and rewrite my entire speech in my head.