Once upon a time, there was a princess named Cora who lived in Cape Holly, a small land by the sea. Her parents promised her to the king of Pennlyn, a much larger kingdom on the edge of a thick woodland. They were known as one of the wealthiest and most fertile kingdoms in all the world. Cora didn’t care about their wealth. She was more intrigued by their king. He was said to not only be handsome and kind, but a fine ruler. Cora herself, while no sweeping beauty, was pretty enough, with her dark waves and snappy brown eyes, but she was also an intelligent scholar who had studied at university.
“They call him King Stephen the Just,” her father told her on the way to Pennlyn. “He’s said to be fair. Always considers both sides of the story before he passes judgment. He’s not a big spender, doesn’t have many parties. They say he’s quiet and studious, Spends most of his time in his library.” He took his daughter’s hand. “Very much like you, dear. I think this will be a perfect match.”
“He’s also quite charming,” her mother gushed. “I heard he’s the tall, dark, and handsome type. Long dark curls and flashing sable eyes and a smile that melts your heart. And he was a great soldier in the late war who led his men to victory. Quite a catch, as I’ve heard peasants say.”
Stephen’s country was primarily dark woods and beautiful old towns with sturdy towers and fine timbered homes. She’d love to explore them someday, when she could get away from the court. She loved roaming through old towns, finding the best deals and libraries and stores with wonderful books filled with favorite stories. Maybe he’d join her, if he really loved books and exploring as much as she did.
The carriage pulled up at the sprawling castle on the hill just outside of town. It was the largest, grandest building Cora had ever seen. Outside was a whole row of servants in blue and gold livery. The man who joined them was the tallest, most handsome man Cora had ever seen. His glossy black hair was stick straight, and his brown eyes had a reddish tinge to them that twinkled far more mischievously than they should have for a sober scholar. His wide glowing white grin held more than a hint of a smirk.
“Cora!” He threw his arms around her, muffling her in the folds of his velvet and sable robe. “I’m so glad you’re here! Let me look at you!” He swung her around, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Well, you’re a little on the plain side, but you do have a marvelous figure. Where did you get that old rag you’re wearing? It’s totally out of date.”
“This old rag,” Cora said sharply as she straightened the simple blue gown, “is my best dress. You don’t look like King Stephen, and you certainly don’t sound like him. Are you his brother?”
He laughed heartily, but Cora saw a sneer under it. “I don’t? I’m the new, improved Stefan. I don’t sit in some dusty corner, hiding among my paperwork anymore. I get out and enjoy life.” He grasped her father’s hand in such a hearty handshake, her father nearly bounced off the ground. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty, I’ll take good care of your daughter. And is this your beautiful wife?” Her mother beamed as he gave her a big peck on the cheek. “Just gorgeous.”
Cora knew something was wrong. She felt uncomfortable all through dinner. Stephan flirted outrageously with her mother, but his attempts to talk with her father came up short. He seemed to know little about the day-to-day lives of the citizens of his kingdom, and cared less for their feelings. He mainly chattered about the massive wedding he had planned for them and all the balls he intended to throw.
“I dislike balls.” Cora made a face. “I’d rather enjoy a quiet night at home in the library than wasting my time and my country’s finances on parties.”
Stephen let loose with a condescending little titter. “Don’t be such a wallflower. There will be time for reading tomorrow, or the next day. As for running a country,” he chuckled as her father tried to cut in, “time enough for that, too. After all, they’re just peasants. I’m their king. They have to do what I say, or else.”
Cora frowned as she joined her father in the hall after dinner. “Papa, I don’t like this. I’m sure this isn’t Stephen. I don’t know who it is, but it isn’t him.”
He nodded. “Your mother thinks he’s a dream, but I say something is wrong. This man doesn’t know the first thing about running a kingdom. People don’t obey you just because you wear a crown. You have to earn their trust and respect.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I want you to stay here. Find out who this man really is, and what happened to Stephen.”
She made a face. “Papa, I’m not a spy! Why don’t we just ask him where the real Stephen is?”
Her father shook his head. “He’s too crafty for that. He’ll just toss out another bit of flattery. No, I think there’s more going on here than it looks on the surface.”
“I’ll try, Papa,” she said hesitantly. “I don’t like being with that man for longer than I have to, but I’ll try.”
That was when she saw two soft hazel eyes, surrounded by coarse, spiky black hair that stuck out in all directions peek around the corner. “Hey,” Cora said coaxingly. “You can come out. I won’t harm you.”
His misshapen face was jumbled like someone had pulled out his nose and waddled his cheeks until they resembled a lumpy sour potato no one would want to eat. Those beautiful eyes were set at one side of his head and peered out through thick, almost girlish lashes. He was strong like an ox, with long, hairy arms and loping legs, but the vast hump on his back bent him over like a wizened old man.
“Hello there,” she murmured. “I didn’t see you with the others when I arrived.”
Stubby fingers big as three of hers around shyly produced a sunflower from the folds of his tattered burlap tunic. “Oh, thank you!” She gently took the bright sunny bloom. “I prefer sunflowers to roses or carnations. They’re so bright and cheery, and when the petals are gone, you can roast the seeds.”
Unfortunately, Stephen bounded around the corner at that point. “There you are, Cora! There are members of the court who would love to meet you…” He glared at the hunchback. “What are you doing here? How did you get out? I locked you in the kitchen closet for a reason. Why are you looking at my fiance?”
“Oh, I don’t mind.” She smiled at the misshapen man. “What’s your name, sir?”
Stephen burst into his silly giggles. “He doesn’t talk. He can’t even write his name. He’s a mute half-wit I took in out of charity. We just call him Ugly.”
“I don’t think he’s ugly.” Cora gave him a sweet smile. “I think he’s very…unique.”
He swung her around. “Ugly is ugly. You’d much rather look at something beautiful, like me. Come on. We’ll send your parents home, and show you off to the court.”
“Now?” She snapped first, before her father could open his mouth. “My parents just got here!”
He rolled his eyes. “They’re nice people, but we’re consenting adults. We don’t need chaperones.”
“I was hoping, well, that I’d have more time with them…”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a baby.” He turned to her father. “We’ll discuss her dowry after she leaves. It’ll be substantial, of course.”
“Of course…” the King began warily. He didn’t get the chance to finish before Stephen dragged Cora off down the hall to the ballroom.
The garden was a quiet spot at this time of the day. Most people were inside, avoiding the heat of the day. She wandered down the winding paths as she tried to gather her thoughts. No matter how much she told herself otherwise, she couldn’t bring herself to love Stephen. He didn’t seem like a man who led a country to victory. She suspected he probably couldn’t lead a hound to a fox.
The only people outside with her were the many gardeners who weeded, pruned the bushes, and planted and watered new flowers. They waved to her as they went about their work, but they otherwise left her alone. She knew she was supposed to love Stephen. He was handsome and charming, but also shallow and self-centered. He wanted her to be some little doll he could trot out at state functions, then put back into her trunk when she wasn’t wanted.
Her own eyes popped open as she heard stumping footsteps. The hunchback servant limped around each sunflower and hollyhock, gently checking each petal and leaf for aphids and other damaging bugs. He lovingly spread a bag of rich dirt around them, then tugged off dead or yellowing leaves. His stumpy fingers struggled with a fat yellowing leaf on one towering pink hollyhock with red edges. She could see the frustration in his hazel eyes as it refused to budge.
“Here.” She smiled and knelt next to him. “Let me help you out there.” She put her fingers over his, grasping the leaf gently. It took a second, but they did manage to pull it off. “You know,” she added as she dusted off her hands on her skirt, “you’re a good gardener. The only time Stephen is ever out here is when there’s an outdoor party and he’s bragging about the philox to visiting nobles. You treat these flowers like your own children.”
His smile was nearly radiant, or as much as it could be on that grotesque face. “You really love these plants, don’t you? I’ve seen you out here before.” He nodded quickly. “I’m not a gardener, but I do think the garden is very pretty. I’d like to spend more time out here.” Her face fell. “If Stephen will let me out of his sight after we wed. He either ignores the flowers, or steps on them5. I heard Stephen the Just loved his garden, but this Stephen can’t tell a tiger lily from a lily of the valley.”
As she spoke, ants trooped across the plot of flowers. Instead of crushing them or harming them, the hunchback took the leaf they’d pulled from the garden and led them away from the flowers and over to a plot of grass on the other side of the path. “That was very kind of you. Those ants weren’t hurting anyone. They just wanted lunch.”
“You!” Moriyata, the head gardener, came around the corner, shaking a rake. “You’re supposed to be tending to the flowers! Your Highness, I’m sorry if he frightened you…”
“Not at all.” She helped him to his feet. “You have an excellent worker here. He should be commended. The sunflower he brought me when I arrived was perfect. He has a good eye.” She leaned over and whispered at the hunchback. “Don’t let Moriyata bully you! You’re good at your job, and you’re a nice fellow.” She patted his rounded shoulder and went on her way…not noticing the hunchback’s sad hazel eyes following her the whole time.
The next few weeks were among the most boring of Cora’s entire life. Despite everything she’d heard about Stephen, they seemed to have nothing in common. All he did was go out hunting or carousing with his friends during the day, then throw lavish parties for them at night. He spent money like it was water on fine clothes, expensive carriages, and his many hangers-on.
She loathed every minute of it. He tittered when she tried to talk about serious topics and made fun of her for preferring to sit in the library and read instead of go hunting with him and his giggly girlfriends. He had no patience to search for antiques with her in town, spending most of his time with his tailor getting another suit made, or to browse in bookstores or music shops.
Cora felt more at home in the kitchens and libraries than she ever did in the ballroom or court room. The servants tried to hustle her out, claiming it was no fit place for a lady, but she stayed on. “Where I come from,” she told Mrs. Wickers, the cook, one afternoon while rolling out the pastry for an apple pie, “men and women of all classes learn to cook. We’re small and lack resources. There’s only so many people to do the cooking for you.”
That was when she heard the door slam. “Took you long enough, didn’t it, you disgusting thing?” Mrs. Primrose, the housekeeper, scolded the misshapen hunchback who carried the wood over his broad shoulders.”Could you have been any slower? Just drop the wood by the ovens and be off with you. You have to get those pots scrubbed by two, so I can start the soup.”
“That was unnecessary, Mrs. Primrose.” Cora knelt by the bent over creature. “He’s a living, breathing human, like you and me. I’ve seen him carry loads twice as heavy and move even faster.”
Mrs. Primrose snorted. “He’s a lazy good-for-nothing simpleton. You shouldn’t encourage him, Your Highness. It’ll make him even less likely to work.”
“Or more likely.” He grabbed a pot, only to grab at his back, wincing. “Oh, you poor man. Here.” She sat with him. “Let me help you. My mother always said work was good for your character, no matter who you were.”
“Your Highness!” Mrs. Primrose’s little jaw dropped open. “You’re a princess! A princess never gets her hands dirty.” She took Cora by her arm and tugged her back to her feet.
She frowned, dusting herself off. “They do if someone needs help.”
Mrs. Primrose glared at him. “He doesn’t need help. He’s a servant.” The little man quivered under the tall, sharp woman’s rigid gaze. “His Majesty found him on the street. Took him in as a charity case.”
Cora made a face. “That doesn’t give anyone the right to treat him badly.” He gave her the most beautiful smile. It spread across his lumpy face like a beacon amid the pits and craters of his cheeks.
“Your Highness!” Charleton, Stephen’s fussy valet, ducked into the kitchen just as she was going to give him a peck on his cheek. “My master wishes to see you right away. Something about a visitation with the Prime Minister of Almond Blossom Province and his wife.”
She sighed. “Darn it. I forgot about that. Denilee,” she handed the maid her apron, “please wash these with the others tonight.”
She most of all hated those visitations. Cora had never known what to say to foreign dignitaries, even when she was with her father. She always let him do most of the talking. Stephen had no trouble doing most of the talking with the Prime Minister. He didn’t let her get a word in edgewise. All they’d do was gaze in his eyes, and they were all a twitter over his handsome looks and fine clothes and charming manners.
She preferred helping the peasants with their problems. She always tried to be fair with them and give the best deal for both sides. She wasn’t perfect, but more often than not, people left happy. Stephen didn’t seem to care. He yawned and ignored them when the farmers and merchants spoke, then sided with whomever had the most money or influence.
“Cora,” he said condescendingly after he awarded a plot of farmland to a rich merchant, instead of the peasant who originally owned it, “that peasant means nothing to me, other than someone who pays tax money. That merchant not only pays higher taxes, he could donate funds to our treasury.”
She glared at him. “That wasn’t fair. That land belonged to the peasant, and you know it. You didn’t even give him any recompense. He needs that land to plant crops and earn money for your ridiculous taxes.”
He looked intensely into her eyes, the dark orbs gaining a bloody red tinge. “You don’t care about some peasant, and you don’t see any trouble. You’ll do what I say.”
“No…yes…” Her mind suddenly went blank. “I need…I need air.” She hurried off before he could stop her.
The best place to think was wandering the halls of the castle. They were numerous and long, seeming to go on forever. She never knew what she’d find. The castle had dozens of little rooms and towers and alcoves that held every little treasure and fancy anyone could imagine. Lavish artwork lined the walls, most of them depicting Stephen’s ancestors.
While most of the paintings were of regal, serious men Stephen had boasted about, there was one portrait, almost hidden on a barely-used hallway, that she didn’t recognize. The man in the portrait looked a little like Stephen, with his heavy sable curls that flowed past his shoulders and gentle little smile, but his hazel eyes held far more kindness than mischief. He was a little bit older, too, with more lines in his face and silver on his temple that gave him the look of someone who was far more mature and had seen more of life than Stephen ever had.
He sat on a stone bench in the garden, a book open on his lap. He wore no crown, no fine jewels or rich silks and velvets. His suit was plain, but well-tailored. Instead of a sword, he held a quill pen over the book. Those eyes…you could get lost in those eyes. They were much kinder than Stephen’s, she thought. Those eyes would never try to manipulate or force someone to do what they didn’t want to do.
Even as her fingers brushed the oil paint, Stephen rounded the corner. “Cora!” He snapped angrily. “Where the hell have you been? You’re supposed to be having dinner with me in the dining hall!”
“Huh? Oh, hello Stephen.” She blinked, wondering how long she’d been standing here. “Stephen, who is this man? Is he a relative of yours? He looks like a slightly older version of you. His suit is a relatively new style, so this must be a recent portrait. Does he live here? How come I’ve never seen him?”
Stephen grabbed her hard by her arm, his eyes swirling into a blazing blood red. “You will forget about him!” His fingers pressed so hard into her soft flesh, she was sure he left bruises. “He’s a cousin who tried to steal what was rightfully mine! Just a soft-hearted fool. He means nothing to you.” He yanked her head to his scarlet eyes, his deep gruff voice a nearl-animal growl. “He. Means. Nothing. To. You! He is nothing! You will forget you ever saw him. You’ll forget everything. You are MINE! Everything is MINE!”
“I…” Cora tried to push him away, but those red eyes…she’d never seen anything so frightening, and yet so powerful. They drew her in before she could even blink. “I…no…” She pulled away. “I need…I need to leave…”
She nearly ran into the hunchback on the way down the hall. In fact, she just about fell over the little man. “Oof! I’m so sorry.” The bale of wood he carried slid to the floor, sending splinters everywhere. “Let me help you with that…”
“What are you doing here?” Stephen flew at them, his cape billowing behind him like bat’s wings. “I’ve told you to stay downstairs! And look what you’ve done now. Running into MY fiancee! Making a mess! I ought to have you horsewhipped!”
Cora grabbed his hand. “You’ll do no such thing. I ran into him. It was a mistake. No harm done. The floor can be swept, and the wood is fine. There’s no reason to treat him like that!”
He shoved the hunchback down the hall, nearly making him fall over again. “Get out of my sight! Go to the kitchen and stay there. I don’t want you scaring people in the halls.”
“Right now,” Cora snapped, “I’m more scared of you than I am of him! Why are you so hard on the poor man?”
Stephen rolled his eyes. ‘He’s just a servant, Cora. We have more important things to discuss, like our wedding.” He pulled her hard into his arms, kissing down them and around her neck. “I’ve already invited all the important people…organized the wedding dinner…we’ll be married in the throne room, where all the most important people can see us…you’ll wear a dress made by the finest seamstress here in the castle…”
“Wait.” She managed to push him away. “Do we really need all that pomp? Can’t we just have a small ceremony, with you and me and my parents and a few close friends?”
“Of course not.” He tittered loudly. “You’re so funny. You’re going to be the queen, and my wife. We’ll have the biggest ball of the year, and afterwards…”
Cora didn’t want to hear it. “Can we talk about this later? I need to…get a note out to my mother and ask her to help me choose linen and china patterns.” Actually, she had no intention of asking her mother any such thing. She only wanted to escape his smothering grasp and attempt to pinch her rear.
She spent the rest of the afternoon asking everyone about the man in the artwork. No one in the castle recognized his description. Even Charleton and Mrs. Primrose drew a blank, and they’d been there for years. When she tried to find it again, she discovered that the artwork had been removed from the wall. No one saw it, or knew what happened to it.
Who the man was and where the artwork went plagued her well into the evening. She was still thinking about him, even as she laid down in her plush bed. Why did no one recognize him? Why was his artwork hanging with those of the other nobles? Where was he now? It kept running through her mind, even as she dropped off to sleep…
The garden was beautiful in the moonlight. It gave the well-manicured flower beds and rustling trees a ghostly air and made everything pure silver. Even the white gown she wore had a silvery glow under that round moon, and the fountain’s tinkle was like sweet silver bells.
She found what she was looking for on the same stone bench in the portrait. He was there. She’d know him anywhere. He looked just as he did in the portrait, even with the book in his lap. He wasn’t smiling now, though. In fact, he seemed terribly sad as she settled down next to him.
“Who…who are you?” She whispered. “Stephen won’t tell me anything about you. He said you were an usurper, but I can’t believe that…”
His slender hands, surprisingly rough and tanned for a king’s, went over hers. “Cora, the man you know as Stephen is a liar and an impostor. He stole everything I had and bound me and my kingdom with a terrible curse. He’s trying to put you under the same curse now. He wants you to forget me, like my people did.”
“I knew something wasn’t right about that man!” She frowned. “Wait. If you’re Stephen, who’s running the kingdom?”
He sighed in frustration. “He’s my younger cousin, Harron, a sorcerer who practices the dark arts. He manipulated my guards so they believed I was the impostor, then ordered them to take me prisoner and lock me away in my own dungeons. That’s how powerful he is. His magic turned an entire kingdom against their ruler.”
She rubbed his long, tanned fingers. “How can I help you? I’m an ordinary woman. I have no magic.”
“Look beyond what you see on the surface. Things aren’t what they seem. And above all else, do not look into Harron’s eyes! That’s how he works his powers. He has the ability to hypnotize any being and force them to do his bidding.”
Her mind whirled with dozens of questions, so many that they all spilled out at once. “How could all this be true? Are you still in the dungeon? Did they move you? I’ve only seen your portrait since I arrived, and Stephen…Harron threw a fit when he saw me looking at it.”
“You see me every day, Cora. I’m so close, but I can’t…when I’m near you, I can’t speak to you. I can’t even write my name. My hands…” His sorrowful eyes glanced down at the supple digits, watching as they flexed. “The curse…”
“Your hands are beautiful.” She leaned on his strong shoulder. “There’s something about you. Your eyes…your smile…I know I’ve seen them before, and not just in the painting.”
Cora, I’m so near by, but I can’t…tell you.” His gentle hazel eyes turned back to hers. “I can’t tell you how much I…I…”
“NO!”
They were about to kiss when a bolt of black light sizzled between them. Cora was thrown off the bench, landing hard on the dirt path. She moaned and rubbed her elbows, managing to sit up just in time to see a figure emerge from the bushes. “What in the…sir? Who are you?”
“That’s none of your concern, woman.” It was the Stephen she knew. He looked just like him, only he wore ebony robes with sable trim. Black light shot from his hand, forcing Stephen to his hands and knees before him. “This weakling was going to give the game away. He knows you’re supposed to find out on your own.”
“You,” Stephen hissed, “weren’t supposed to use your magic on her!”
His double glared at him. “She was being obstinate, poking her nose where it wasn’t wanted. I had to make the game more challenging.” His black light roughly twisted Stephen’s arms behind his back, making him scream in shock and pain.
“Stop! Please!” Cora stumbled over to Harron and grabbed his arm. “Don’t hurt him! He’s done nothing wrong. He only wanted to see me.”
The look of pure hatred he gave her with those swirling scarlet eyes sent her scrambling back into a tree. It twisted his handsome face, with its sharp chin and straight ebony hair, into an evil mask. “He almost violated part of the curse. For that, he must be punished.”
Harron’s beefy hands wrapped hard in Stephen’s glossy curls. “You belong to me, cousin!” Stephen screamed as he whipped his head back. “I’ll show you where that soft, stupid heart of yours gets you! You’re not fit to rule a kingdom, and you’re certainly not fit for this wench’s company!”
Cora kept yanking at his arm and kicking at him. “Leave him alone!” She screamed along with Stephen when another wave of darkness sent him to the ground. “Stop! Stop hurting him!” She tried to grab his arm, but he shoved her away.
“Forget him, woman. Forget you ever saw him.” He yanked her in front of his eyes as the scarlet-black light swirled. “Forget him…forget everything…”
“No! Oh no…” Everything swirled around her as she threw up her arm to protect from the red light.
“Cora!” The real Stephen’s voice grew stiffer and more scratchy as the black light surrounded him. “Don’t…forget…things…aren’t…what they seem! Look…closer!”
“I…oh…” She looked up at him, just as another wave of black magic blasted over her…
“Oh god, no!” She woke up screaming in her own room, her legs tangled in the sheets. It was only a dream, but it felt so real. Too real. She’d been having that dream, or one like it, for weeks. Someone was trying to tell her something. She changed into her gown before Denilee could help her dress and dashed out of her room.
In fact, she almost literally ran into the man she wanted to see in the hallway. “Cora!” Stephen…or was it Harron?...jumped away. “Whoa, sweetheart! What got into you? Are you being chased by some monster?”
“No, but…” She took a breath, then continued. “Stephen…I've had these dreams…”
He gave her his obnoxious little grin. “About me, I hope.”
“Well,” she started again, “you were in it…”
“Tell me about it on the way to the dressmakers.” He took her arm. “We need to stop putting this off, Cora. We’re going to get married tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!” She yanked her arm away. “But we aren’t ready yet! The dress isn’t finished, and we haven’t bought all the bridesmaids gifts, and…”
He yanked her chin up to his eyes. “We’re getting married tomorrow, my bride.” They swirled that same blood red she saw in her nightmare. “We’re going to be very happy. You will be my wife, my pretty little toy, and you will do everything I say. You will forget anyone and anything else. Dreams are just dreams. You can’t believe anything you see in them.”
“I…” She blinked, trying to remember what had frightened her so badly the night before. “I…”
He ran a finger down her cheek. “You’ll be a little doll to share my throne and produce heirs. You’re rather plain, but we could do something, dress you up in linens and lace…”
She managed to duck away when he tried to nibble down her neck. “I think I’ll go to the dressmaker and see how my bridal gown is going.” Her mind was whirling when she left. There was something in her dream she wanted to remember…something about appearances being deceiving…but it eluded her.
