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Chapter One
Kate
I blinked up at the scattering of glowing orbs above my head as I slowly woke from sleep. The glimpse of my new bedroom ceiling had been brief before I closed my eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep. I didn’t recall all the details, but it had definitely not included the underside of a massive sycamore and the soft glow of fairy lights.
I closed my eyes and told myself I was dreaming, but when I opened them again, the tree boughs and the lights bobbed in the gentle breeze that teased my bare toes and played with my hair. Distant music, light and ethereal, filled my ears as the scent of cooked meat enchanted my nose, reminding me I had not eaten dinner.
My stomach twisted in hunger. I suspected I wasn’t dreaming. The exhaustion pressing down on me and the dull pressure behind my eyes only added fuel to my suspicions that I was awake in a strange place.
Rolling to my feet, I began brushing off my robe, a worn green velvet with ragged edges that had seen better days. If I had known I was going to be whisked away to a party, I would have chosen more appropriate attire. But my nightgown and robe would have to be enough for now.
Great sycamores lined the edges of the most beautiful garden I had ever seen. Their branches arched gracefully, framing the expanse of night sky visible over a dance floor surrounded by clusters of elegant chairs.
“Over this way.” A female voice called out above the distant strains of music. Her waving arm caught my attention from just beyond the foliage bordering the dance floor. It drew my eye to a rather ancient-looking woman with masses of silver hair piled on her head. The coif bobbed precariously with the enthusiasm of her efforts to catch my attention.
“Really, Marilla?” a second female voice demanded. “Is that truly necessary?” The woman’s scornful tone carried clearly in the night air.
The ancient woman rolled her eyes and beckoned one last time, to which I nodded. Then, she turned back to her companion.
Resigning myself to the state of my attire, I began picking my way across the grass toward the hedge. More voices greeted me as I approached.
“Didn’t your decorum instructors teach you to modulate your voice, Ivy?” asked a third woman.
“I always speak at the appropriate volume for the situation.” Ivy, the woman who had chastised the elderly lady, continued in the same carrying volume as before. “With Marilla waving like a common hussy, someone had to speak up.”
I had just come around the hedge to catch a good view of the speakers as she finished her protest. The elderly woman, a classic beauty with a bone structure that gets more attractive with age, smiled warmly up at me from her chair. “Come and join us, child.” She motioned to the chair next to her. “Don’t mind them.”
“What do you mean by that?” demanded the shrill-voiced woman. Her pinched features were painfully refined, every hair in place, every expression carefully controlled. “Why are you inviting her to sit? She could be a scullery maid, for all we know.”
“Are you a princess, my dear?” the third woman asked. A motherly creature, she was plump and gave off the impression of comfort. Although her clothing was expensive, it was clearly also designed for ease.
“Kate Moring, Princess of Solderland, as of this morning.” I offered them a formal curtsey. No need to start off on the wrong foot with strangers. There would be plenty of opportunities for me to offend them later. Based on my experiences of the past week, I had a talent for getting on people’s bad side.
“Ah, that explains it.” The motherly woman smiled again.
“The coronation invitation didn’t mention you, but that isn’t that surprising. I wondered if you would appear tonight,” the pinch-faced one announced. “Still, even if you did not know if you would appear or not, a little effort to dress appropriately would go a long way. It never hurts to be prepared.”
Marilla snorted. “You forget, Ivy, we have seen your bedclothing. Of all of us, you were even less prepared for our first night.”
“Pardon,” I interjected. “But where am I?”
All three women fell silent and regarded me with various levels of concern and pity.
“You mean you don’t know?” Ivy demanded.
“Poor lamb,” murmured the plump woman.
“Don’t listen to them, child; come with me.” Marilla rose, plucking a cane from where it rested against the chair.
“But…” The plump woman’s protest drowned in the loud arrival of two very excitable young girls barely into their twenties by their appearance, but possibly younger based on the emotive cry of the taller one.
“Mother! He left! Why does he always have to leave?”
“Come,” Marilla whispered as she gripped my arm with surprising strength. “Trust me. You don’t want to be here for the coming drama.”
Obediently I complied, letting her keep a hold of my arm under the guise of supporting her. I had no patience for indulging the moaning about their infatuations that usually followed such declarations.
“Quick, into the maze before Mable gets inspired to set her daughters on me under the pretense of them needing elder wisdom.” Marilla rolled her eyes. “Through there and to the left.” She jutted her chin toward an opening in the hedge. Gravel bit into the underside of my feet as we rushed into the dimmer recesses of a hedge maze. Looming over us, the bushes on either side towered at least eight feet high. Fairy lights threaded through their depths, showing through the leaves as little pinpricks of light. As we turned a corner, we slowed to an ambling walk out of sight of the dance floor
