“I can’t believe she put you on the spot like that,” Thomas said. He was madder than Gloria, even, but it was the sort of rage that boiled under a calm surface. “Asking you about Libertas. As if you’re in any position to comment on national security!”
“Did I do okay?” I asked.
“You? You were brilliant,” Thomas said, his eyes widening at my self-doubt. I looked away, embarrassed by his obvious admiration, but I was happy he’d said so. Thomas didn’t seem to hold much stock in my ego; he would’ve told me if I’d failed to perform to expectation, and his approval was a pretty big relief. “That was a great answer. You did an amazing job in there.”
“Only because Gloria coached me.”
“No, believe me, you’re a natural.”
I gave him a tight smile. “I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness, I thought.
“Well, it convinced Eloise Dash, and, hopefully, the entire country, so in this case, it’s a good thing,” Thomas said. He glanced down the hall, in the direction of approaching footsteps. “Let’s go back to your room. Gloria will want to regroup, and we don’t want to piss her off even more by being late.”
“Got to stick to the schedule,” I joked. Thomas laughed.
“You’re catching on fast,” he said.
SIXTEEN
A few hours later, Juliana’s bedroom was the center of an enormous swell of wedding-related activity, because today was Juliana’s last dress fitting. The queen was on her way, as was the seamstress with the dress, Rochelle was waiting with her ever-present trunk of beauty paraphernalia, and Gloria was standing off to one side, speaking in a low voice to someone on her mobie—which was, Thomas had explained, their slang for a cell phone. Gloria was managing the fallout from the interview incident, and I cringed on behalf of whoever was on the other end of the line.
With nothing in particular to do, I drifted around the walk-in closet, looking for something new to wear. I didn’t get the obsession with changing clothes every hour, but it was something Juliana did, so I had to do it, too. Her style was definitely different from mine; when left to my own devices, I pretty much lived in jeans and T-shirts, but the only jeans I found in Juliana’s closet still had the tags on them—tags that, even though I didn’t know the exact value of a dollar in the Commonwealth, gave me the impression that they cost. Juliana favored dresses, but her supply of them seemed infinite and I couldn’t decide which to wear.
Gloria poked her head in. “That one,” she said, pointing to a green silk wrap dress. I nodded and quickly changed into it.
The door slid open and the queen entered, followed by a yappy little dog, and a small, stooped woman the queen didn’t bother to introduce. The queen didn’t greet me; she didn’t even look at me, or seem to register that I was there.
“Myra,” the queen said. “Bring in the dress.”
“Hello, Your Majesty,” I said, bowing my head to the queen as Gloria had taught me.
“Leave off with that, Juliana,” the queen said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t stand it when you’re false to me in private.”
“But I’m not—” It was difficult, knowing what to say to the queen. On the one hand, I was aware how acrimonious Juliana’s relationship with her stepmother was, so if I wanted to be convincing, I ought to have snapped back, stuck up for myself. But Gloria had warned me that I needed to act like Juliana’s time at St. Lawrence had brought her to her senses. I needed to play the part of a penitent princess, one who had accepted her fate with grace and dignity, one that wouldn’t fight back—someone Juliana had never actually been. And yet, if I was too good, the queen would become suspicious. It was a total minefield, and if I wasn’t careful, I was liable to get blown up on the spot.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we? Gloria, open the curtains. It’s so dark in here.” The curtains were almost completely open, sunshine pouring in, but Gloria dutifully pulled them apart as far as they would go while Myra, the small, dark-haired seamstress, summoned a porter into the room. He carried a large garment bag that almost overtook him; it looked heavy, and I was nervous about having to wear whatever over-the-top wedding dress Juliana had chosen.
The queen barely spoke as Myra hoisted and tucked and strapped and strung me into the dress; instead, she sat on the sofa, stroking the yappy dog and quietly judging.
When Myra was finally finished, she turned me around to face the mirror.
“Wow,” I said when I got a look at myself.
“It’s a very lovely dress, Your Highness,” Myra said.
“You’re not kidding,” I said. The dress was gorgeous. The skirt was made of white satin covered in lace, sumptuous layers of cascading fabric that seemed to go on forever. The biggest surprise was the bodice; judging by the contents of her closet, I would’ve expected Juliana to choose something low-cut, maybe even strapless, but it had a modest sweetheart neckline and a scalloped lace overlay with delicate capped sleeves.
“You’re going to have to let the dress out a bit, Myra.” The queen sighed. “I hope you’ve got some extra fabric. The princess seems to have gained a bit of weight since you last measured her. Don’t let your mouth hang open like that, Juliana, it’s very unbecoming.”
“I haven’t gained weight,” I protested. I knew I shouldn’t be taking the queen’s comments so personally, since they were meant for Juliana, but I couldn’t help it. It felt personal.
“It’s too bad of you to eat so indulgently less than a week before your wedding,” the queen continued. Gloria was not amused; she glared at the queen from her seat near the window, out of the queen’s line of sight.
“The dress fits like a glove,” I told Myra.
“It does, Your Highness,” Myra admitted. Now it was the queen’s turn to glare at someone.
“Don’t alter it at all,” I said. “But if it will make you happy, Your Majesty, I’ll watch myself at meals until after the wedding.”
“I told you, leave off with that ‘Your Majesty’ business.” The queen yawned. “I see what you’re trying to do, and I won’t stand for it, I simply won’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re trying to pretend as though you’ve seen the error of your ways and come back from St. Lawrence a changed woman,” the queen said. “This sudden meekness—it’s so transparent. I don’t believe it for a second. You’ve never been a good actress, despite your flair for the dramatic.” The sound she made then was more a bark than a laugh, and she flourished her hands in the air as if she was about to conjure a dove.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. Myra began the process of extracting me from the complicated dress.
“Just know that I will be watching you,” the queen said, getting up from the sofa and letting her dog leap from her arms onto the floor. “And if you do anything—anything—to upset your father or endanger the reputation of the Crown, so help me I will see to it that you are sent someplace much more tedious and remote than Canada. Do you understand me?”
Canada. Even I knew that was an oblique reference to Juliana’s mother. I felt a sudden urge to snap back, but I couldn’t—it would just give the queen another reason to jump on me, and that was the last thing I needed. I couldn’t begin to imagine what would happen if the queen found out I wasn’t Juliana, but it wouldn’t be good.