The next day, I sat before at the table by the window, drinking my tea and staring out at the gardens. It was a nice day, but I did not really feel like going out.

There was a soft knocking on my bedroom door and my first thought, foolishly, was of William and the way he would knock on my balcony door. Of course, I knew it wasn't William, and the thought left me even more miserable. I did not get up to go answer it. If it was Mother, she would barge in anyway, and everyone else could just leave me alone.

After a moment, the knock sounded again, a little louder this time. "Erika? Can I come in?" To my surprise, the voice was Alice's. She was the last person I would have expected to visit. And the last person I wanted to talk to right now.

"Go away, Alice," I said. "I am not in the mood."

There was a long enough pause that I thought she might have left. Though, I could not be so lucky.

"Please, Erika," she said, "I need to tell you something."

With a sigh, I relented. I walked over to the door and pulled it open. Alice stood on the other side, though she looked different than usual. Her eyes were rimmed red, her face blotchy, and I wondered if she'd been crying.

"Alice," I said slowly. "Have you been crying?"

Almost unconsciously, she ran her hand under her eyes. Though, she did not acknowledge my question. "I have something for you. Follow me." She turned and strode back out of my room and down the hall.

I hurried after her as she led us around the corner, down another corridor to her own bedroom. Alice's room had always reminded me something of a doll house, with its soft pink walls, lace curtains, and white-painted furniture. As a child, Alice had loved her dolls and had begged Mother and Father to decorate her room like one. She had gotten her wish.

I had been jealous of it when we were younger. My room never looked as lovely as hers. But now, the idea of living in a room that looked so like a doll's made me feel claustrophobic.

I stopped uncertainly at the threshold. "Er . . . may I come in?"

She cast me an impatient glance. "Do you think I would have had you follow me all the way down here just have you stand outside of my room. Of course not, Erika. So come in and shut the door. Mother cannot know you've been here."

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. Her room even smelled nice. Like roses.

Alice turned her back on me again and marched over to her dresser, which was covered in soft pink doilies and jewelry boxes. She knelt down, pulled open the bottom drawer, and began rifling through.

"Are you looking for something?" I asked curiously as I watched her.

She ignored my question. With a soft, "Aha!" she pulled out a small wooden board from the bottom drawer and set it aside.

A false bottom? I thought, surprised. What would Alice have to hide? It felt almost exciting. Like something I would read about in a book. From beneath it, she pulled out a rather sizable bag and replaced the panel

She stood and turned to me, clutching the bag tightly to her. The bag clinked as she moved and it sounded as though it were full of coins. Though, I couldn't imagine where Alice could have gotten her hands on so much money.

She confirmed my unasked questions a moment later when she held out the bag to me. "Take this. It's money. A lot of money. I do not know how much exactly, but enough, I think. Run away with William. Go live your wonderful life together, in love. This might not last forever, but it should be enough to help you start a new life."

I stared at her in absolute shock. I thought I might have misheard. She could not possibly be offering me such an absurd amount of money. Especially without expecting something in return.

"Alice," I said, my voice strained. "I do not understand. You are asking me to take all of your money to run away with William?"

She glared at me. "That is what I just said. Keep up, Erika."

I shook my head, still trying to understand the situation. "How do you even have this much money? Where did it come from?"

She hesitated, her grip tightening on the sack of coins I still had not taken from her. "I know you think my life has always been easier than yours. And, perhaps, in some ways, it has. But not entirely," at this, I could not help but scoff. If she noticed, she ignored it. "Mother has always paid attention to me—so much attention. She was always watching me, telling me how to act and what to do, how to behave. Of course, I did love receiving so much attention. I loved how others would fawn over me, telling Mother how well-behaved I was, how beautiful I would be. But it was always difficult, as well, to keep up with Mother's expectations. I often struggled with the pressure she placed on me to be perfect. The smallest mistake would disappoint her immeasurably. It was exhausting never knowing how she would react or if something would upset her. I was nine the first time I dreamed of running away. I dreamed of where I would go, what I would see. I loved the idea of a freedom I've never known. I didn't even know what it would look like, really. But I knew that it would be somewhere Mother could not reach me. Of course, at that age, there was no logical way I could ever leave. I had no money, nowhere I could go, and no knowledge of how I might get there. So, I decided that I would save it for 'someday.' I would wait for the day that I was older and had some reasonable understanding of what 'running away' actually meant. I started saving, though. Since women are not meant to manage money, it was slow work getting any. I would take a couple coins here and there, whatever I could find, really. Meanwhile, I still did everything Mother told me to do. I excelled in all my lessons, my dance classes, womanly arts, academics, everything. Sometimes, I would even think I was being foolish to want to run away. I could have a good life here—one where I was secure in status, a respected member of society. I wouldn't be happy, but perhaps I could learn to be content." Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away furiously. "It won't happen now. I cannot run away. Mother cares too much. It would destroy her if I left. And, despite everything, I couldn't do that to her." She took a trembling breath and thrust the bag at me again. "But you can. You can leave. You do not have to stay here. Run away. Go somewhere else. Be who you want. Read all the books you can. Love the prince with all your heart. I want at least one of us to be happy." This time, she could not stop the tears from spilling over, down her cheeks, dripping from her chin.

My heart felt like it was breaking anew. But, this time, for her. "Alice," I said, my voice breaking on her name. "I never knew. I'm so sorry."

Alice shook her head furiously, blond curls whipping around her face. "I'm not telling you so that you can pity me. I just know that I will never be able to leave, but you can. I want you to take it, Erika, since I cannot."

Still, I hesitated. "But if I were to run away with the prince, couldn't you be free too?"

She huffed a laugh, but it was the saddest sound I'd ever heard. "Do not be daft. If I cannot marry this prince, I will marry the next one. I am fated to stay until Mother can marry me off to the next monarch or rich duke, who will probably be fat and old and mean. He will not love me and I will not love him. The most I can hope for is a tentative friendship. Perhaps even that is asking too much. The most I can hope for is that he will not beat me. Even that might be asking too much. I will grow older and angrier, the anger will, at some point, fester until it is a shriveled-up bitterness that resides within my soul, perpetually distorting my view of the world. I will bear children for the terrible man I marry. Inevitably, I will have a favorite child, but that will not stop me from creating a rivalry between all of my children, anyway. I will pit them against each other, watch on as they vie for my attention and love, never knowing who will win or lose. At some point, my bitterness will poison my children until they no longer fight against each other, but fight to get away from me. Eventually, they will all move away, start their own families, their own lives. They won't write, they won't visit. My grandchildren will never know me except by name, which will be a very formal one, given to grandparents who are estranged from their family but mentioned occasionally. I will probably be called 'Grandmother.' After all of my children have left, it will just be me and my husband, whom I hate. And then, one day, he too will die. Because I am fairly certain he will be a great deal older than me. And I will be all alone, growing older and more bitter with the years. I will waste away in my old, decaying castle, as the climbing ivy reaches through the window, stretches toward me as though to try and suffocate me. I will die surrounded by my undoing, by everything I've ever hated. While all my dreams lay shattered, just barely out of reach, and yet much too far away. Even in death, they will taunt me, as they always did in life. Perhaps the last sentence I utter will be something to the effect of, 'what could have been?' And I will never know. She took a deep breath, her lip quivering slightly. "I will never know."

Silence settled over us as I stood before Alice, taking in her sad, hopeless eyes, the way her lip trembled slightly, the way her shoulders drooped a little, as though from holding the weight of her sadness for so long. This was not the Alice I'd always known. I had no idea who this girl before me was.

What could have happened in the last little bit to change Alice from the haughty, standoffish woman she usually was, to the sad, hopeless girl she appeared to be now?

"Oh, Alice," I said, feeling my own sense of hopelessness wash over me. "You forget that it is not just your choice. It is his too. And he has already decided to marry you. We . . ." I hesitated and cast my eyes down at the floor, blinking away tears. "We have decided to stop seeing each other. That is it."

When I looked up at her, her eyes were narrowed in thought. "He decided this or you did?"

I stared at her uncertainly. "Well, I suppose it was mutual. Though, it was because of the finality of the marriage arrangement between the two of you that ultimately decided for us."

"Well," Alice said slowly, holding the bag closer to her again and I felt the opportunity slip away. "If things change, you know where I keep this."

I nodded, swallowing against the lump forming in my throat. "Of course. Thank you, Alice. Truly."

She offered me a small smile before straightening her shoulders and turning away to march back across the room. "Please shut the door on your way out."

I hesitated for a moment longer, watching as Alice returned to her dresser. Practical, proper Alice was back, and still I wondered which version of her was the real one.