Celeste's life is far from the enchanting fairy tale one might expect from a princess. Her father, a ruthless and self-absorbed king, leaves a trail of death and destruction in his wake. To seal alliances and maintain his power, he arranges for Cele...
I lie deathly still on the bed, wrapped in blankets, listening to Christiaan's snoring. Since he untied me, I haven't moved. Even if I wanted to, I can't move. The pain is too intense. The stack of blankets around me reflects my state of mind.
Christiaan's words keep echoing in my head. I don't want to get out of bed, not walk through the corridors anymore, actually, I don't want anything anymore. My gaze drifts to the darkness outside the window.
I don't know exactly how long I've been lying here. My thoughts wander in a black hole of darkness. Happiness and joy seem to exist only in my memories. Love... I can't even explain what that word means. The beautiful marriage and life as a princess that my mother told me about were lies.
There's no chance that I'll ever leave this castle alive. I'm just waiting for the end of my life, hoping it's approaching quickly.
Slowly, the morning arrives, the sun rises on the horizon and lights up the sky. I had hoped the sun would never rise again so I could stay lying here. But as the morning gets closer, so does the moment when Christiaan will force me to get up.
The sun rises higher in the sky and illuminates the dark bedroom. I don't move, don't speak a word, and don't move my eyes. My body throbs with pain in every spot where Christiaan touched me. I don't even bother to sleep; I'm so numb that it doesn't even occur to me.
For the first time in hours, I move when I feel movement beside me and a blanket is thrown over me. I lift my head slightly and turn my eyes. Christiaan opens his eyes, pulls the blankets off himself, and gets out of bed.
Disinterestedly, I put my head back on the mattress and gaze at the slowly rising sun. The sounds of Christiaan getting dressed pass by my ears. It's a vague background noise that I don't want to grasp. Even when a black fabric from one of my other dresses is thrown onto my body, I don't lift my head.
'Be on time.' Not much later, the door is locked, and it's dead silent.
It takes all the motivation I have to place my arms on the mattress and push myself up with effort. The pain makes me grit my teeth and fight against every tear that comes up. My hands push me onto my buttocks, my legs dangle off the edge. I close my eyes in pain and irritably wipe the tears from my cheeks.
Annoyed, I pick up the plain black dress from the bed and throw the fabric on the floor. The price for this action is paid immediately with pain through my muscles.
I'm so done with all the crying, with all the sorrow. I'm angrier at myself than ever. Not because I let Christiaan do it, but because it still hurts me.
My feet touch the floor, and I straighten myself. With tears in my eyes and my teeth clenched, I push myself off the bed. Standing upright seems impossible.
As I try to make my way to the bathroom with my battered body, there's a knock on the door, and Melissa steps in. For a second, she stares at me with wide eyes, briefly bows to me, and hurries towards me.
'Your Highness,' she murmurs. She helps me quietly sit on the blue stool in front of the dressing table.
My own reflection was the last thing I wanted to see this morning. The split lip, bruised cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and a facial expression devoid of any emotion except tears. My nose is covered in blood from the blows, my hair is a mess.
Frustratedly, I turn the round mirror around so I don't have to look at the ghost anymore.
In complete silence, Melissa wipes the blood from my face and legs with a wet cloth, helps me into a slip, attempts to tame my wild tangled hair, and attempts to conceal the multitude of bruises with makeup. Even with all the products the castle has in stock, it would be impossible to hide all the bruises.
Staring at the white wall, I let Melissa do her thing. I don't know if I would want her to say something about it, even if she could. It wouldn't make a difference.
The first time I look away from the wall is when she comes back with a black dress. While the dress Christiaan chose is plain and boring, Melissa has chosen one of the most detailed in my collection.
We look at each other in silence before I simply nod and push myself off the stool. With effort and clumsiness, she fastens me, looser than usual, into the black fabric.
With its elegant design, intricate lacework, and sparkling diamond details, the dress exudes wealth. The velvety fabric gracefully envelops my body, while the elaborate lace sleeves and intricate corset add a touch of mystery. This dress is a perfect reflection of the royal status that everyone seems to want to take away from me.
She wants to place my flat shoes in front of me before I shake my head.
'The heels.' If she had the permission, she would want to argue with me, but she doesn't and can't. She helps me into the towering black heels, and although they do no good for my painful body, I refuse to make a different choice.
'Thank you' is the last thing I say before I move myself as upright as possible toward the door.
'Your Highness.'
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