Chapter 39: Wearing A Mask

My chamber was bustling with activity as different females worked on styling my hair and face for my upcoming engagement. Their chatter was light, filled with smiles and laughter, but it felt hollow to me. They wanted to put a mask of happiness on me, but I felt helpless against my fate. Everything had been taken from me: my life, my will, everything except for my tears. I refused to cry over my ordeal. I would go through the engagement with my head held high.

My father had told me that he was doing this for my sake, but now I questioned everything. I wanted to crawl into the deepest pit and hide from the world. One of the females stared at me with a smile on her face, a smile I knew was fake. "You look so beautiful, my princess," she said.

I forced a smile in return, feeling the strain on my face. Another woman chimed in, "By the time we are done with you, Lord Philippe won't recognize you, my princess."

Hearing his name sparked something within me. Perhaps it was anger, or maybe it was hatred. I couldn't tell. The emotions were too raw, too tangled.

"Leave me for a moment," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

One of them hesitated. "But my princess, we have to get you ready in time."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Go away, please."

Nadir stepped forward. "Please leave. When she is ready, I will let you know."

She ushered them out of my chamber, and I thought I was alone until I heard her voice again. "I am sorry, my princess."

I looked at Nadir, seeing the sorrow in her eyes. "I I have told you before, it's not your fault, Nadir," I said softly.

She moved closer, her voice trembling. "If there was something I could do to change this, I would."

"I know," I replied. "But there is nothing anyone can do now. I must face this."

Nadir's eyes welled with tears. "You are stronger than you realize, my princess. You have always been."

I turned away, not wanting her to see my own tears threatening to fall. "Strength is not enough. Not when my father is willing to destroy everything I care about."

Nadir shook her head, her eyes filled with guilt. "If it weren't for me, the king would not have had anything to blackmail you with."

I sighed deeply, feeling the weight of her words. "Did you not see the way he ordered Maya's execution? He would always have something over me. So don't blame yourself, Nadir."

Nadir sniffed back her tears, her face crumpling in sorrow. "If you want to cry, cry, my princess. Get angry, shout. Just don't be sad." Tears streamed down her face as she continued, "Why is the king treating you like this? You look like a fairy, you have the blood of a fairy, so what is the problem if you don't have wings? Why can't they leave you alone? Why!"

Nadir was wailing now, her anger and sorrow spilling over. Seeing her like this, her pain mirroring my own, almost broke me. I fought back my own tears, knowing that if I started crying, I might never stop.

"Nadir?" I said gently.

She looked up, her eyes red and swollen. "Yes, my princess?"

I forced a smile, trying to infuse some strength into my voice. "Let's go through with the engagement ceremony. When it is the wedding day, we will cry together. Call the stylists."

Nadir looked at me with pity, and I pretended not to see it. This was my cross alone, and I intended to bear it alone. But I was stunned by Nadir's next action. She wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug.

"You are going to be alright, my princess," she whispered. "You have to be alright."

I nodded, though the words felt hollow. "I know. Call them in."

Nadir reluctantly pulled away and went to fetch the stylists and I waited. 'If my mother was still alive, would she have allowed my father to force me into marrying Philippe?' I pondered.

The door opened, and the stylists returned, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. I resumed my place before the mirror, allowing them to resume their work. They fussed over my hair, my face, their hands gentle yet efficient. Their chatter resumed which I gladly welcomed, my thoughts were quite depressing.

"Your hair is so beautiful, my princess," one of them said, her voice soothing. "Lord Philippe will be mesmerized."

Hearing his name again made my stomach churn. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and forced myself to remain still. I had to get through this. For Nadir and for the memory of my beloved mare, Maya.