The Hidden Princess (Book One of the Whispered Tales)

Chapter 3

Late in the night, a noise woke her up from the deep sleep she had fallen into. The entire room was being struck by flashes of lightning, ushering the approaching storm. The party was over since she could hear no other sound, except for the faraway thuds. She rose from her bed and made it for the window, intending to pull the heavy curtains to make the storm less frightening. It would have been embarrassing to call her nanny from the next room just because she got scared by lightning.

And then she saw it. A black silhouette, wrapped in a robe just as black, waiting under the window of her room. Almost like a shadow. She knew it was there; she knew she wasn't just imagining it. And she also knew it was watching her. She didn't have to see its face to figure this out. She blinked once, only once, and the shadow disappeared as never there. 

Big raindrops hit the window in anger and a menacing wind was bending the leafless trees, making them look like long and skinny armed monsters ready to grab her. Eliza pulled the curtains and tucked herself under the quilt. She couldn't catch a wink until late in the night, when the day started to pierce through the tar-like darkness of the night. 

The next day, she said nothing to anyone. But she realised that the smile was fading from her face, and now she was also one of the grumpy and silent inhabitants of the castle. The Prince had gone hunting early in the morning and Eliza could do as she pleased. 

Just like she decided the previous night, she would try to practise on her voice. Nanny Ana brought a music teacher in great secrecy; so she sent him to one of the less frequented rooms of the castle to teach Eliza how to sing. He was a funny old man, with a twisted moustache and glasses on the tip of his nose, looking like they would fall down every time he moved his head. Since there was no time to linger, the lessons started. The teacher asked Eliza to sing all the songs she knew; so she did. Old songs, sung by the village elders during feasts, lullabies sung by her father and happy bouncy songs hummed by the neighbours' kids. But her voice sounded like a fainting cat which never saw the tail of a mouse in its whole life and fed itself with roots only. The teacher, though kind and polite, grew sick of all the slobber, bellows and cackles and, after several hours of trying to get even the slightest decent note, suggested they should meet again the next day. The weather, he had just realised, was most likely not suitable for singing. This being said, he stormed out of the room, sticking his fingers in his ears and shaking them like a whole beehive was buzzing in his head. With the intention of never coming back again. 

Eliza saw him leaving and a feeling of uneasiness got her. Her nanny stormed inside, interrupting her thoughts; she carefully closed the door behind her.

 The girl was growing fond of her nanny, as chubby as she was, with rosy cheeks, small, sparkling eyes and grey hair, always kept in a bun on the top of her head. Eliza couldn't help herself from laughing when she would see her bubble like that since her nanny always looked like a pot-bellied mouse. 

'I think it's time you tell me who you are, child,' said the nanny in a gritty tone, but Eliza felt a trace of affection in her voice. 'You know, since I'm sticking my neck out for you, I think I deserve to know at least who you are, where you come from and how you got here.'

 Eliza took her nanny's hand—because after she saved her on the night of the feast, she felt like she was her nanny—sat her down in a stall that once had a beautiful embroidered silk flower pattern; she sat on the cold floor in front of her. Then, she told her the whole messy story she was in. How all her life she wanted to be a princess; how she met Princess Mara and how Adrian, her lifelong friend talked her into taking the Princess's place. How she left her father, the old miller, in tears; how she missed him every day and how the only one to remind her of home was the spotted tomcat. But not even once did she felt sorry for the choice she made, even though nothing had turned out the way she hoped.