I made it.
That’s all I can think about. My mother told me it would be done. That the princess would be gone. That I would have her place. I didn’t believe her. It was too good to be true.
But now it is true. I don’t need to know what happened to her or where she went. I don’t want to know. It probably wasn’t anywhere good.
Mother told me not to worry about it because I shouldn’t feel guilt for something that I should rightfully have. She told me that I was a spitting image of the princess and everyone growing up has told me the same. So everyone would fall for the switch.
Mother told me that the king is my father and he threw her out when he found out she was pregnant. He told her to get rid of it. To get rid of me.
She lost everything when that happened. Her life, her purpose, and every materialistic thing that she had. The king had provided her everything and when he kicked her out, he took away everything. He ruined her life and in doing so, he ruined mine.
So it’s time for us to ruin him. Or I guess just me, but my mother will be doing it through me I suppose. Plus she did help me get this far.
This far, as in I’m in my new quarters. Princess Francesca’s quarters. The rooms are huge and spouting with luxury. In the middle of the main room is a four-poster bed covered in purple fluffy blankets and beautifully made throw pillows with gold threading. Expanding tapestries cover the walls and the warm lighting makes the room feel cozy.
To the right of the room is the washroom, which has a shelf full of the best smelling soaps. To the left of the main room is Francesca’s study. It seems like she has her own personal library with the amount of books that cover the walls. In the center is a mahogany desk and a purple carpet underneath it.
I think it’s odd how much the princess and I have in common. It seems her favorite color is purple, which mine is the same. We look alike, or so people tell me. I’ve never actually seen her, so I don’t know just how much. We both love and have a liking for art. Francesca has her own art room which I will have to venture to later. I smile at the thought of visiting the room.
Mother and I have been waiting a long time for this opportunity. She has waited even longer. That’s the one thing she gained when she was kicked out of the castle while pregnant.
Me—an opportunity. Really my only task is to not fail. As long as I don’t do that, everything will go perfectly—or so I tell myself. I just have to think positively to keep myself going.
Besides, it’s only fair that she doesn’t do anything else; I get to live in luxury until the plan is completed. Or at least that’s what mother says—that it’s fair that I risk everything. She has risked everything and she does it all the time. I admire her so much. My heart squeezes when I think about how strong she is.
I’ve learned to live in luxury, but without the luxury part. My mother made sure I knew how to fit in otherwise my cover would be blown. She taught me all about princess and court etiquette. She warned me of the breathtaking corsets—both in beauty and in a literal sense—as well as the forbidding royal men, and the most important thing: the risk of being caught. She gave me a choice to do this. I chose this.
She tells me all the time—ever since I was a little girl—that all she wants in the world is for me to make her proud because if I make her proud then I’m making myself proud. She reminds me of it everyday.
I wonder what it will be like to not be around Mother anymore. She’s the only person I’ve ever been close to, the only person that has always been there for me. She wanted to protect me by keeping me a secret from most people. She didn’t want me to draw attention because of how much I look like Princess Francesca. Mother allowed me to go to the market and the town square with her in small villages where it didn’t matter if I looked like the princess or not. The villages that didn’t see much hope—as they surely never saw any royals, save their dukes or duchesses every solstice.
However for bigger towns or cities, Mother would leave me nearby locked up in whatever inn was cheapest but secure. I would often be quite bored, but she always left a book or two for me to study while she was out getting the things we needed. I couldn’t risk any guards or knights seeing me and questioning my existence because if word got back to the royal Navarre family, they would watch out for me or if I wasn’t so lucky, they might see me as a threat and try to wipe me off the face of the map. Therefore Mother keeps me safe and hidden when necessary. She doesn’t want anything to happen to me. She says the king doesn’t know that my mother kept me, and she wants to keep it that way. I suppose that serves our plan.
Someone knocks gently on the door to my rooms.
I put on a bright smile and say, “Come in!”
An old lady limps into the room, gives me a smile, and says, “Good morning, your Highness. It’s time to get you ready.”
* * *
Weeks pass, Cassandra lives in the castle without being discovered. She enjoys her time pretending to be Princess Francesca. She feels sympathetic toward her for taking her from such a loving place. Cassandra doesn’t even understand how these people could have done something so cruel to her mother. She doubts her mother’s plan but her mother sneaks into the castle on a lonely night of celebration to remind her what’s important. Mother reminds Cassandra that everyone in the castle has learned to master manipulation, the same way that Mother taught Cassandra. Through everything that has happened over the past few weeks, Cassandra knows what must be done. And so the time has come to ruin the king and get the revenge that Cassandra and her mother both deserve.
* * *
The time has really come, Cassandra says to herself. She paces in the humid, dungeon cell while stealing glances at her father. The king is gagged and shackled to a wooden interrogation chair, it felt like it had taken her a century just to get him down here. She had done it though.
She offered him to tea, and spiked his drink with a herbal mixture to knock him unconscious. She then dragged him down to the dungeons and into this interrogation chamber. She was thankful for the training her mother put her through and the muscles it gained her. She was additionally thankful for the fact that the king didn’t weigh all that much to begin with.
Cassandra continues to pace the room, thinking of what she will say once he wakes up. She has had an entire speech planned out—several actually—for this exact moment; however, now that she is here, her mind fails her and goes blank.
A low groan snaps Cassandra out of her thoughts and she whips her head around to look at the king. As he comes back to consciousness, he takes in the room he is in, and who stands before him. Once he is fully collected—and Cassandra can see the exact moment it happens—he jerks up in his seat and he lets out a muffled sound that she can tell was supposed to be, “Francesca?”
She turns away from her father and takes a deep breath. Cassandra compartmentalizes her feelings away from her thoughts and what she is about to say and do. She exhales and turns around.
“I am not Francesca,” she says with a steady voice. “My name is Cassandra Cyrene Hastings.”
The king, not being able to say anything, just stares with wide eyes.
“You are my father and you ruined my life the day you abandoned my mother and told her to get rid of me. You betrayed us the second that you thought we would challenge your reputation. You didn’t even let mother keep anything. She had nothing. You put on a front for your little kingdom and for your family but behind closed doors you’re a completely different person.” Cassandra says, spitting out the last few words.
The king tries to get the gag out of his mouth but fails to do so. Cassandra walks over to him and takes it off. She only put it there in case he woke up early and decided to start making noise.
Tears shine in her father’s eyes, “Oh Cassie,” he says with deep sorrow. “That is not at all what happened. Your sister and I have been searching a very long time for you.”
“Sister? What are you talking about?” Cassandra asks skeptically.
“Francesca. Have you never seen any paintings of her? You two are identical. Have you never wondered why? I suppose you wouldn’t, your mother would come up with any lie to make you follow whatever crazy, diabolical plan she has. You are Francesca’s twin.”
Cassandra stares at the king like he has twelve eyes on his chin and three mouths on his forehead.
When she doesn’t say anything, the king continues, “Your mother is the liar, she is the one that betrayed us and you. Not me. She tried to—.”
Anger builds in Cassandra’s gut. It works its way up to her head, transforming into rage on the way and it blocks out the king’s next words.
How dare he lie about this, she thinks. How dare he try to blame Mother for this when she is the one that has always been there. She is the one that has provided and kept me safe. I’ve never even heard of a search for a long lost Princess. That doesn’t even make sense, none of this makes any sense.
“Shut up,” Cassandra mumbles.
The king continues on his rant, ignoring her or not hearing her she doesn’t know but she can’t take it. All this information at once is too much. She was sent here on a mission. She was sent here for revenge. But that plan was built off of a lie. Or was it? Cassandra doesn’t know who is right and who is wrong. She needs quiet. The king will not be quiet. She needs quiet.
“You see, I didn’t want to be cruel and leave your mother with nothing and no one. So I let her keep you, and I kept Francesca. I see now that was a mista—.” His last words were choked off with a gasp.
Finally, Cassandra thinks. Her mind sighs at the quietness and it brings her back down to the moment at hand. Her mind is lifted from the haze of chaos and her rage dissipates. She looks at her father and her mouth opens into an ‘O’.
“No,” she says. “No no no no no no. What have I done?” She pulls at her hair and blurts “God, what have I done?” into the now quiet room.
She rushes over to her father and mutters incoherently as she removes the shackles that hold him to the chair.
“You’re gonna be okay.” She looks down at the dagger protruding from his chest. She puts her hands around the wound, careful not to touch the blade or push it further in. His chest rises and falls rapidly. Cassandra’s father opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.
“What? Say it again.” Cassandra leans closer as if that will help him get his words out.
“Find. Your. Sister.” The king says between breaths.
“Okay. Okay, I will.” She tells him in a gentle, rushed voice, “You’re gonna be okay.” She rips off a piece of her gown and wraps it around the blade and puts his hand on top of it to hold it in place. She puts his arm around her shoulder and lifts him out of the chair and slowly lowers him to the ground to level out his body. He grimaces and lets out a big breath when he is situated.
“I- I didn’t mean to. I was lost in my mind. I- I didn’t realize what I did. I’m so sorry.” Cassandra says frantically.
“It’s okay child,” the king says quietly. “Just listen to what I have to say. I need you to hear me and hear me now.”
“Okay.”
“Know that everything your mother has done hasn’t always been for you or your best interests. She knows how to put on a good show. Don’t trust anyone except your sister. Not even your mother, especially not your mother. She was once good but now…”
Cassandra leans back and notices her father’s eyes are shut. She opens her mouth to express her concern but then he picks up where he left off.
“You need to find your sister before it’s too late, before your mother does something to her that can not be undone.”
“I don’t know where she is. Mother never said anything about it. She told me that I wouldn’t need to worry about anything that had to do with her. All she said was…” Cassandra trails off.
All she said was it would be done. It would be dealt with.
“I’ll find her, Father,” she says strongly.
When the king doesn’t reply Cassandra shakes him and demands that he wakes up. She doesn’t want to believe that he is gone. When she finally accepts his fate she gets up and swears on the king’s—her father’s—grave that she will find and save Francesca from her mother.
