“I heard the Queen was fuming that Prince Wilhelm is not giving her the attention she requires,” Nanny spat. “Serves her right! I hear he spends most of his evenings out of the palace, it must kill her that there’s a man not willing to bend to her qualms.”

Marié ignored her and continued placing clothes in a wooden trunk. Her week-long visits to the monastery went quicker than she expected. Perhaps it was due to the increased number of hours that she had to put in to stop her brother from driving their home into hell. For a long time now, Marie felt like a guest in her own home. She felt more at home with the sisters at the monastery and the children. Returning to the palace was harder than leaving, and why would it? By King Charles definition, Marié was more rebel than she was a princess.

“Did you hear what I said?” Nanny asked, tapping Marié on the shoulder with her fan.

Marié rolled her eyes. “Prince Wilhelm is the epitome of charm and perfection, I have heard you the first hundred times.”

Nanny sat down on Marié’s bed. “Do not dismiss me, child. The servants in his apartments have no bad words to say about him.”

“Would you like to marry him, Nanny? Our engagement is meaningless, so I would not be offended.”

“What an awful child!” Nanny huffed. She stood up and took the clothes out of Marié’s hands and started packing in her stead. “You can hold it against me if you wish but I will not give up on wanting more for you. You are too young to give up on life.”

Every last week of the month when Marié was due to leave the palace, Nanny’s protests of Marié’s choices came more frequently and louder. However, since Wilhelm’s arrival, Marié heard the man’s name every second breath. It was bad enough that the last couple of weeks he had seen her in two compromising situations. She was only glad that he didn’t recognise her.

“If I were to marry, a prince is the last person I would choose for myself.”

“What’s wrong with a prince? A princess deserves a loving prince.”

“The tragedy of the monarchy is that none of them know love or seek it.” Marié sighed. She briefly ran her hand through blonde looks. “I have too much to do here than to willingly volunteer to marry a man so he can lock me away in his castle.”

Nanny placed the last dress in the box and closed the distance between them. Marié lowered her head into Nanny’s chest. Gently, Nanny brought her hands over Marié’s back, rubbing her like when the Princess was a small child. Long lost was that child and her dreams. What was left was a shadow of someone that Nanny never knew.

“I do not know why you have imposed such a difficult task on yourself. What happened to your parents was not your fault nor are you to be blamed for surviving.”

“I know that, Nanny.”

“Do you?”

Marié merely smiled. “Come on, I will miss evening prayer.”

“How many times do you have to pray in a day? We were just there this morning. You need to expand your horizons.”

Marié grinned. “You have been more annoying than usual, so I have to increase the number of times I ask for forgiveness.”

“You horrible child!”

***

Princess Marié’s room at the monastery consisted of a small cubicle separated from the next person by a thin white curtain. Inside the rectangular space was a single bed, a rack on the wall where she kept her books but the piles of books had extended to the floor, leaned against the wall. Her suitcase she kept neatly tucked away underneath the bed. The other beds in the shared room were occupied by the orphans the church took in.

However, most of the beds were taken up by mothers and their children who were displaced by the floods. Her brother had called their fathers, husbands and brothers to fight floods in regions where he deemed the threat more detrimental, leaving their homes undefended. Each one had moved to the city with hopes of being nearer to their King, thinking that once he heard their cries he would provide for them. But Charles saw anyone without a home as a rebel. Maybe some of them were children and grandchildren of the men rebelling but there was no way of knowing. Marié didn’t dare question where they came from. None of it mattered.

From the moment Marié arrived the kids had bombarded her with love and hugs. Her heart swelled taking in their warmth. She let their innocence cover her. Deep down thoughts of her brother killing their brothers and fathers slowly ate away at her heart. The King’s plans were only getting worse with time and she seemed close to the end of what she could do to stop him. If the rebels refused to leave the city, Marié was not uncertain that there was anything that she could do to stop the bloodshed.

The guilt of her limited powers was like bricks on her shoulders weighing her down. Marié knew that she couldn’t dwell on what she couldn’t change. She pushed the thought out of her mind and focused on the children. Marié sat them all down in a circle and read them a story from her favourite book. Her voice fluctuated upward at peaks of excitement, low and quickly as she built up the tension and suddenly booming when she wanted to scare them. The children held each other's hands, leaning their heads forward with huge smiles on their faces.

After the children went to bed, Marié returned to her own bed. The women were pleasant but most of them stayed away from her. Despite seeing them every day, she went home eventually and that set her apart. The only woman Marié considered a friend was Sofia and Marié dare not ask her whereabouts. At times, women left and were never seen— another hateful thing that Charles was responsible for. Whether they lost their lives on the execution board, no one was left to speak of their tale.

“Marié, can I braid your hair?” Léa, the oldest child there, asked. She was only fifteen and taken to Marié like an older sister. Too young to be considered a woman and too old to run circles around the dormitory gardens, Léa had little choice than to treasure the one week in a month where Mariè stayed over.

Marié twisted her body and gave her back to the young girl. She removed the pink scarf and lightly fingered Marie’s hair.

“Your hair is so beautiful and soft.”

“Thank you, Léa.”

Léa looked around. Her mother, Morgaux, was fast asleep. “I remember the first day that I saw you, I thought you were so beautiful—like an angel.”

Marié sniggered. “And now, you don’t think that? They do say beauty fades with time.”

“I still think that,” Léa said quickly. “Why do you come here? Ma said you are from a wealthy family and have no business spending your time with people like us.”

“Does it make you feel sad when you see me?” Marié looked up at the small girl. Many of them didn’t have a choice, Marié decided that she was going to help them without their input. She was surely careful and gave only when asked. Her donations came through the church and perhaps that made them look at her as though she was not doing enough. Often she wondered what they would think if they knew she was the last born of the late King.

“Ma is just mean, she doesn’t like anyone so don’t listen to her.” Léa smiled. “Have you ever loved a man?”

Furrowing her brows, Marié concentrated her gaze into Léa’s eyes. “So this is what this is really about?”

“What does it feel like?”

Marié sighed admitting defeat. “I thought I loved a man once but I was wrong. He made me feel small.I am not the best person to ask but I will say this, someone who loves will always put your safety first, whether that means safeguarding your heart or your beliefs. Are you in love?”

Léa shook her head quickly. “I was curious, that's all.”

Sister Ines entered the room to wish everyone good night and after that Léa never said a word about it. As Marié lay in bed in the dark room, her mind drifted to the dark green waters. Every night as she closed her eyes, Marié twisted up and down as though she was sixteen years old tumbling to the bottom of the river. Her insides twisted, bile rising up to her oesophagus. Trapped and alone, nothing had changed since that day. Marié rolled over to the side and sucked in a deep breath. No sleep would come after that.

“Rough night?” Sofia asked with a beaming smile, stood beside Marié’s bed. Last night’s haze left Marié unsettled and with an unwelcome headache, but such was her life. “You were twisting and turning all night long.”

Marié placed her feet on the ground. Chilling ice went straight through, just the wake up call that she needed. “My stories may have scared me more than the kids. We have a meeting at the townhall. Are you ready?”