My Reverse Fairytale

Chapter 6: All For Names

The sound of my name being called through the door was enough to startle me. The voice was deep, raspy, and before I even opened the door to see the Prince leaning against the doorway, I was prepared for his golden stare. I held onto the door and rested my body on the opposite side of the door frame. "Can I help you?"

Carter displayed his famous smirk. "Well, I am not too sure how you can help me, but the King does want you to come down to the dressing room. It is time to pick your wedding dress, Princess." The last word flicked off his tongue like he wanted me to feel mocked.

I crossed my arms over my chest, pulling my robe tighter. "I don't know how you royals do things, but where I come from, the groom is not supposed to see the dress of his bride before the wedding."

The smirk reached out to captivate, once again. "I know. I was just told to come get you so we could patch things up." he said the last part in a bad imitation of his father's voice.

It still made me smile. "Well I do apologize, but I do not forgive your poor behaviour."

"Nor I your lack of grace." He winked.

I gave a scoff of protest before he grabbed my hand and pressed his lips softly against the back of it. "I wish you the best of luck in your dress hunt."

"It is going to take a lot more than luck." I clacked my tongue and stepped past him, ignoring the urge to look him in the eye.

"Janice," my name rang from his mouth in a sing-song tone.

I turned, biting my tongue as I waited for his smirking mouth to speak. "Just remember, I'm not a fan of pink." His grin was wide across his face.

I gave a small smile as I lowered my head to the floor and began down the corridor. Making my way around the castle was still not exactly an easy task, and I suddenly wondered why I hadn't gotten Carter to lead me there. How many turns had I already made? I cursed under my breath as I decided against trying to make my way back. I had the same chance of finding the damned dressing room. Two turns later - or was it three? - I arrived at a fork.

When in doubt, go left? Or is it right... Cursing under my breath I turned quickly down the right hall and began scanning the portraits on the walls. Nothing even looked remotely familiar. After another few minutes I stopped again, letting out a sigh as I realized it was hopeless wandering around a castle the size of a small town. I began reading the signs on the doors. After passing the kitchen, the servants’ quarters, and another assortment of rooms I came across a tall, brown door standing alone on the right side of the corridor. The word etched into the wood should have been enough of a warning:

Private

While I had sincerely been hoping to stumble across a guard, this room called me into it. Surely, someone had to be inside who had enough knowledge to direct me on my way. I knocked once on the wooden surface, waited for an answer and sighed when no one came to my rescue. I waited for a moment. I held my breath as I grabbed onto the golden knob and twisted it slowly. The click that echoed into the empty hall froze my heart still. I stepped inside.

The room was small, much smaller than I would have expected for being a lone room in the middle of the corridor. It contained many shelves and drawers, completed with a large, wooden desk centered on the back wall. Envelopes, parchment, a typewriter. The mail room? Record room? Information? Information. The word stuck in my brain, unable to let go. Information. Information. Information. It repeated in my skull like a broken record player.

I peeked my head back out the door, looked both ways, and quietly closed the door shut. Someone finding me would be an unfortunate event for the day. I wiped my sweating palms on the skirt of my dress and began fumbling through the parchment. It did not occur to me until after that I hadn't the slightest clue what I was even looking for. I turned my attention to the desk drawers, picking one at random and rummaging through it.

It seemed like a junk drawer, one with dozens of random envelopes for things like horse feedings and chandelier placements. My fingers brushed across each slip of paper until I slid my palm against a small, white envelope. Written on the front in messy, cursive writing was one word: ENGAGMENT

I glanced back over my shoulder as if someone had been standing there the entire time, waiting for me to find the envelope before they yanked me from the room. I tore open the seal. My eyes scanned over the words in what seemed like lightning speed, my brain seeming to conjure up a thousand different noises for footsteps while I read. I held my breath again, forgetting the sweet taste of air as I flipped over the page. There was little writing, and I read it over quickly:

Name: Carla Tempton

Occupation: Maid - Lady Adeney

Parents: John Tempton, Rosa Tempton

Siblings: Linda Tempton, Beth Tempton

Name: Jostlyn Fields (deceased)

Occupation: Maid - Lady Adeney

Children: Janice Fields

I looked up from the parchment. Beth Tempton? My Beth? My mind slipped back to my first day, the day I had received the letter from Carla, my explanation about my quarters to Beth, her face when I had mentioned Carla; when I had mentioned her sister. But my mother, her name written delicately on the parchment I held in my hands, a name I hadn't heard in years. I continued onto the next sheet. It was a letter, a letter from the King to his representative in Baris, the town just south of Crosston. It looked like a copy of one, like the first had already been sent and this one had just been scribbled out as a reminder. I bit my lip so hard I felt blood flow into my mouth. Somehow I felt as if I now knew what hatred tasted like.

The door knob creaked. I shoved the letter into the pocket of my dress and dove under the desk. Bringing my knees up to my chest I leaned my head against the wall, praying silently. I was slightly unsure of the rules in the castle, but I had a fair assumption that being caught in a private room would be enough for at least a few days in the cells.

The old wooden door screamed in age as it swung open. Loud footsteps echoed along the floor. I clamped a hand over my mouth, my skin shivering in fear. The legs stepped into my view, hands reaching down into the drawers. I recognized those pants, for I had seen them only moments before: the Prince.

My mouth opened to call his name, but the idea was instantly replaced with my curiosity. I had always been a curious one. Instead of revealing my presence, I wondered what had brought Prince Carter to the room. That question rested on the back burner of my mind as another came into focus. Was he allowed to be in here?

A piece of paper floated to the ground, the tip of it brushing against my toes. I closed my eyes, cursing in my head. Were the odds ever in my favour? Carter uttered a curse and bent a knee onto the floor. I prepared myself for discovery. His hand reached for the paper, more and more of his body coming into sight with each passing second.

I cursed out loud and lunged forwards, wrapping my arms around the Prince's waist and sending him backwards. I cupped my hand over his mouth, silencing the shriek that tore past his lips. I held my hand tight against his mouth, my eyes digging into his before I let go and slowly rose to my feet.

He remained on the ground. "What the heavens are you doing in here?" His voice was a whisper, but the urgency and fear behind it was unmistakable. His eyes were wide, like he had almost died of fright.

I dusted off the bottom of my dress, trying my best to suppress my smile. "I could ask you the same thing." My enjoyment vanished. We were both breaking the rules, and he would not convince me otherwise.

He let out a huff and scrambled to his feet. "Janice, you could lose your life for being caught in here."

So much for a few days in the cells... I bent down to grab the piece of paper that had given me away in the first place. I resisted the urge to tear it into shreds, like that would be fit for its punishment. "And you wouldn't?"

"The King couldn't kill his own son, well, technically he could, but he wouldn't risk the approval of his people just so he could put a dagger through my heart." Carter's explanation struck me as the definition of a brutal truth.

I changed the subject. "So what are you doing here?"

"Looking for bloody answers." He mumbled the sentence as he shoved the papers he had taken out back into their original places.

"So I was not the only one bitten by curiosity." I felt the tip of the stolen letter still tucked neatly in the pocket of my dress. "Do you know who Carla Tempton is?"

He laughed, like I had recited a joke. "Yes, obviously, that's Beth's sister. I think she lives in Crosston, actually."

"And do you know who Jostlyn Fields is?" I didn't think it necessary to explain that I did, in fact, know that Carla lived in Crosston.

He shrugged, still sorting through envelopes. "Of course. She used to do work for the King." Carter hesitated, his eyes lifting to meet mine. "Wait."

I took a step back, making my way to the door. "I have to get to the dressing room."

"Janice, wait."

"The King will be suspicious if I do not show soon." I yanked open the door.

Carter’s strong hand reached over me and shoved it closed again, holding it there.

"God dammit, Carter!" I said the words louder than I should have, but at the time I hadn't noticed.

"Jostlyn Fields was your mother?" He asked the question like he didn't already know the answer.

"Of course, you i***t!" I finally let go of the door handle and pulled at the roots of my dark hair. "Dammit of course she was! I am such a fool.”

My vision blurred as every tear I had been holding back over the last few days finally began the fight for escape. Carter stared at me, his hand no longer holding the door closed. Instead he placed the hand on my shoulder. Silence consumed us for a long moment.

"I knew your mother. She visited, a lot, actually." He leaned against the door beside me. “I am such an i***t to not have realized sooner. You look exactly like her."

"Yea," the word sounded like a choked, suffocated syllable, "I do." Silence. "What work did she do for your father?"

"Whatever he asked her to do. She only came down every now and then. I don't know if you remember her leaving often but--"

"I remember."

Carter paused, but he continued: "She would come down for meetings. But mainly, she was his eyes in Crosston. He has one in every town, a scout, usually a maid or a blacksmith, someone you would not expect. He uses them to watch, make observations, you know, to make sure things run smooth when he wass not in town." He hesitated again. "My father had a great liking for your mother. She was awfully smart, Janice."

"I know."

He lifted his hand from my shoulder and turned the door handle. "Maybe you should take it up with my father."

"I do not plan on taking anything up with that man." And I stepped through the door, returning to my search for the dressing room.