I was awoken the next morning by a sharp knock on my door. I had hardly slept at all the night before and had only drifted off into a restless sleep as the sun was rising. My eyes felt like they had sand in them and my head ached from my awful sleep.

"Enter," I called as I sat up.

Agnes entered the room followed by a group of servant girls carrying a washtub. "Your mother has requested that you join her for breakfast in the drawing room."

Dread knotted my stomach immediately and I forced myself to keep from grimacing outright. "Of course," I replied. She helped me get ready for the day. I washed quickly, followed by Agnes helping me dress in a pale yellow gown and tying my hair back in a knot, leaving a few strands loose to frame my face. After I was prepared for the day, I left the servants to clean up the wash tub and I went down to the drawing room.

Mother waited in a chair near the window, drinking her tea, breakfast laid out on a tray before her. She glanced up when I entered, though her expression did not change. Her cold, gray eyes watched me impassively as I approached her and the tray across the table from her that was surely meant for me.

"Good morning, Mother," I said with a curtsy before sitting across from her. "You requested to see me?" Of course, it was a demand, not a request, no matter what language was used to describe it, though I did not point that out.

"Is it not enough that I simply want to have breakfast with my daughter?"

I stared at her for a long moment, perplexed. It certainly was unusual for her to want to just have breakfast with her daughter—if the daughter was me, anyway.

"Of course not," I said, still suspicious. "I am honored you would want to spend your time with me."

We ate in silence for a few moments, as I continued to cast surreptitious glances at her over my bowl of porridge, waiting for something, though I was not quite sure what.

Finally, Mother sighed, and met my eyes. "I am most displeased with how you behaved yesterday while we were at the palace helping with wedding planning."

Though, I was not surprised there was actually a reason for her wanting to have breakfast with me, the reason confused me. "Displeased? Mother, I did exactly as you asked. I did not speak with anyone, I did not interrupt, I stayed there, but out of the way. What else could I have done?"

"I did not ask you to come so that you could keep your nose in your book the entire time, Erika," Mother snapped impatiently. "I asked you there so that you would participate. You were supposed to help plan the wedding, get involved. Instead, you sulked in the corner like a child and disappeared halfway through for quite a long time."

"I know you asked me to," I said carefully. "But I couldn't. You two were so engrossed in the planning that even William and Alice did not participate much. It makes no sense that I was there just to help plan, as well."

"Do not argue with me!" Mother paused, took a deep breath and when she spoke again, she was calmer. "Regardless, I was embarrassed by your behavior yesterday—and of late. I have spent some time trying to think of a punishment that might be suitable for all of the trouble you've caused me lately. Finally, I came up with one."

I swallowed my argument. It would only make it worse. But the look in her eyes. I couldn't quite read it and it made me nervous.

"As you know, Alice and His Highness's engagement ball is this upcoming week." I did not know that, but now hardly seemed the time to bring that up. "You are to give a speech in their honor."

"What?" My eyes flew wide. "You cannot mean that."

A malicious light glinted in Mother's eyes. "I do, Erika. I have spoken with the king and queen and they are delighted that you are so enthusiastic about the union between Alice and the prince. You are to give a speech that emphasizes just how happy you are for them."

Blood rushed so loudly in my ears that I almost could not hear the rest of her sentence. "You cannot mean it, Mother, you know how I feel about him." I hated the way my voice trembled, the pleading edge to it.

The hint of a smile vanished from her face in a flash. "I do mean it," she said, her voice like ice. "You have to understand that you cannot be with him. You and the prince were never meant for each other, Erika, and I want you to understand that. I hoped this would drive the message home."

My breath hitched in my throat as Mother looked across the table at me. And I saw it in her eyes. Or perhaps I had always seen it in her eyes, but now, I could name it. Hatred. She hated me. With everything in her.

"Why?" I asked, my voice steadier than I would have expected after such a blow. "Why does my suffering please you so much? What do you get out of it?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Darling, it pains me to see you suffer, of course. You are my daughter. But sometimes, that is the only way I can make you understand. I cannot help that."

I shook my head so hard that a few pieces of hair fell out of my knot. "No, that isn't it. There's more to it than that. What have I do to you that could cause you to hate me so? What could I have done to never be enough?"

Mother's face remained carefully neutral, but her gray eyes were watchful, calculating. "You have always been enough, Erika," she said in a maddeningly calm voice. "I could never hate my own daughter."

"Then why do you treat me the way you do? If Alice and I were truly equal in your eyes then why could I not rule? If we were truly equal, why could I not marry the prince?"

"Because you cannot! I have worked for years to arrange the marriage between Prince William and Alice. It was never meant for you!"

"But why?"

"Because you are not Alice! I want that life for Alice, not you."

I stilled, my heart stuttering in my chest. "I see," I said slowly. I swallowed, but my mouth felt dry. "Why Alice, Mother? Why only Alice?"

Mother exhaled and she seemed to deflate in her chair when she did. "You and Alice . . . you are different. But, perhaps, not in the way you'd expect." She hesitated for a long moment, seeming to debate something, before she continued. "Before I met your father, I was in love." It took me a long moment to comprehend that. It seemed rather hard to believe, honestly. "Julian was the son of the baker in the town where I grew up. He was a wonderful, beautiful man, and I loved him more than anything."

I waited with baited breath for her to continue, and, after a moment, she did.

"I was going to marry your father, Richard. That was the arrangement that was made between our parents when I was sixteen years old. And yet, at the time, I could not have imagined it. I was in love with Julian and when I thought about my future, it was him I saw it with, not your father. I was angry when I discovered I would not be given a choice in the matter, so, in a very stupid act of rebellion, I . . . laid with Julian. When I found out I was with child, my marriage to Richard was finalized rather quickly so that . . . well, I'm sure you can imagine why. My reputation would have been ruined if word had gotten out that I was to have a child out of wedlock. So, I married Richard as soon as I could so that the child could be passed off as his. I moved to Belhaven to be with him and I never saw Julian again. Several months later, Alice was born and she was—and still is—the only connection I have to the man I loved." Tears glistened in Mother's eyes. Though, she blinked quickly and they were gone in an instant.

I stared at her for several heartbeats, unsure what I could even say. Finally, I spoke, my voice strained. "You could never love me because you could never love him?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, spare me the melodrama. Of course, I loved you. But," She shook her head and did not finish the thought. But.

She could never love me. Not in the way she loved Alice. And it made so much sense. Everything she'd ever done to me was not because of me. It was solely her. She did not get to choose her life. The irony was hard to miss.

My hands began to shake and my face burned. "Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?" I asked, my voice harsher than I intended. "Do you think I could ever pity you after every awful thing you've done to me? Because you could never be happy?" I stood from my chair so quickly it nearly toppled over.

She stood as well, her eyes blazing. "I did not ask for your pity. I don't want it. But you cannot speak to me that way. I am your mother and you owe me respect."

"I do not owe you anything," I replied, my voice hard. "You have never acted like my mother. I have tried so hard to be what you wanted, to be like Alice, but it would never have been enough. I could have killed myself to be like her, and still you would not have cared because I am not Alice." Even as I said it, tears blurred my vision. I wiped them away angrily and glared at Mother. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. I was not done. "And what of Alice? Alice, the daughter you love, the daughter who matters to you. She is just as miserable as I am. And do you care? I don't think you do—"

"I am trying to secure a good future for her!" Mother snapped. "She might not be happy, but she will be secure. She will never want for anything. She will lead, like she was meant to. She can learn to be content with what she has if she has everything else."

"Like you? You are not happy, Mother. You are angry and bitter. Perhaps you are secure, but you have never been content. Are you really so keen to give Alice the life you are living? The one you hate?"

Mother stepped toward me and it took every bit of willpower I possessed to keep from flinching away, from backing down. "You have no right to talk to me about things you cannot understand. You have no idea what I've done to give her a good, secure future. To give you one. You are an ignorant child who knows nothing of the world. You cannot pretend to understand the way it works. You don't know."

"You never bothered to teach me! You criticize me for knowing nothing, and yet you never tried to help me learn. It is your fault I do not know, not mine."

She raised her hand and I flinched, preparing to feel the scrape of nails across my cheek.

"Mother," Alice said, striding into the room. "That's enough." Her voice was light, gently chiding, as though she were speaking to a wily child and not a grown woman about to hit her daughter.

Though, to my surprise, it worked. Mother still, her eyes widening, and she dropped her hand. "Alice, you are interrupting."

"Yes, and I'm terribly sorry for doing so, but I do not think my gown for the upcoming ball fits quite right and I was hoping you could give a second opinion before I send it off to the tailor's for them to fix."

"Oh, yes of course." Mother smoothed out her gown and turned to me, her eyes cold, her face severe. "You will speak at their wedding, and that is the end of that." She turned on her heel and strode out of the room.

Alice met my eyes for the briefest moment and they glinted with a knowing light, before she turned and followed Mother out of the room.

I took a trembling breath and sank down into my chair before the table. My eyes blurred with tears once more and I pressed my palms against my eyes, hoping to stop them before they could fall. It didn't really work.

That despicable woman! I could not believe she would ask such a thing of me. Especially after revealing her own past. She picked the perfect punishment for me. I hated public speaking. Even speaking with a single person made me nervous, so an entire room. And about the marriage between my sister and the man I was in love with.

I tried to take a sip of tea to calm my nerves, but my hands shook so much that the liquid sloshed over the rim of the cup. After sitting there for so long, it was cold, anyway. With a frustrated sigh, I set the cup back down on its saucer.

After another long minute, I pushed away from the table and left the room, leaving behind my breakfast, still untouched on its tray.

#

I hesitated before Alice's door some time later. I had waited until I was certain Mother would not be with her before going to her room, but I was losing my nerve. I didn't want to interrupt her if she was busy. She could have quite the temper when she was inconvenienced, and, frankly, I was not sure I could handle being yelled at again today.

Finally, I worked up the courage and I knocked softly on her door. It was quiet for a long moment, followed by a muffled, "Enter."

I pushed open the door and stepped into her room. She sat in a chair before the fireplace, though there was no fire in it. Instead, her balcony doors were open to let in the warm spring breeze. She appeared to be stitching a pattern. It looked to be roses, though I was far enough away, I could not tell for certain.

"Erika," she said, sounding mildly surprised. "Do you need something?"

I stepped into her room and shut the door softly behind me. "Erm," I began awkwardly. "I wanted to thank you for stepping in earlier. And, well, stopping Mother from hitting me."

Alice glanced up at me before returning to her needlework, her mouth quirking into a slight smile. "Think nothing of it. I'm sure you would have done the same."

"Yes, of course," I replied.

She glanced back up at me and made an impatient sound. "Honestly, Erika, quit hovering in the doorway like a ghost. Come over here and talk to me. I will not bite."

I grimaced and stepped toward her. "I'm not quite convinced of that right now."

She paused her stitching and turned to face me in full. "Well, when someone stands awkwardly in the doorway like that, I find it very annoying. Though, you are the only person I know that does that, so it might just be a trait I associate with you, which is why I find it annoying."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I did not come in here so that I could be berated by you."

"Whatever you came in here for, you should have known it would be accompanied by a small amount of berating. That is just how I do things. Now, what did you need?"

I hesitated before continuing. "You walked in at such a perfect moment earlier today. Were you listening in?"

Alice's hand faltered, only slightly, barely enough to be noticed. "I was, actually, yes. Though, what I heard did not really surprise me. I've always had feeling, but it was simply confirmed today."

"I'm sorry you had to find out that way."

"It's all right. I think it is the only way I ever would have found out. Mother probably never would have told me all of that. To find out I am the daughter of a common worker." She wrinkled her nose as though she smelled unpleasant. "How distasteful."

"It is not so bad as that, Alice," I said slowly. "Mother said he was very kind and beautiful. You're—beautiful," I winced, wishing I had phrased that better.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Thank you for that," she said dryly.

"Sorry," I said quickly. "I did not mean for it to sound like that. It was supposed to be a compliment."

"It does not matter. You are not wrong." She made another row of stitches before she continued her thought. "It must have been difficult for you, though. To hear Mother confirm that she loved me more."

I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat. "Similar to what you said, it was not a surprise. Though, it did hurt to hear. To know that I could spend the rest of my life trying to please her and earn her love, but I never would be able to because I'm not you."

Alice snorted, which surprised me. It did not seem like the kind of sound she would ever make. "You should count yourself lucky, I think. Mother did not show me her love by being kind to me. She showed it to me by punishing me for the slightest mistake, ridiculing me for the smallest misstep. I was right, earlier today. My gown was not fitting correctly. But that was because it was too tight. Instead of sending it to the tailor to be let out like a mother should, she told me I was not to eat anything until the ball this coming week."

"Oh, Alice," I breathed. "That's horrible."

She shook her head. "It isn't, really. She's always been like this. This will not be the first time she's told me to fast. It is just the way it is."

I nodded, though I could not believe Mother would do that. I resolved to find times to bring food to Alice every day so she would not have to starve. "Do you think you will tell Mother about Poppy?" I asked.

She laughed outright this time. "Oh, no, absolutely not. I am not quite ready to die, I don't think."

"So, you think you will still marry William?"

"We've been over this, Erika. I don't have a choice. Mother would never allow for anything else."

I tried to tamp down on my frustration, but I was not entirely successful. "She will never be happy, you know that. So why shouldn't you try to be happy at least a little?"

Alice's grip tightened on her pattern. "Erika, you don't understand. You might be able to say what you did to Mother and I applaud you for it. But I cannot do that. I cannot hurt her that way. After everything she's done for me."

"Like refuse you food so that you can fit into your gown?"

She glared at me. "Did you need something else or are you just hear to judge what you do not understand?"

"I just want to help you."

"No, you don't," she snapped, dropping her needlework onto the chair beside hers. "You want to help you and I am getting in the way of your future with the prince. I am sorry, Erika, but I can do nothing about that."

My eyes began to burn and I blinked furiously to prevent the tears from falling. "I'm sorry," I said. "I hope you both are very happy with your marriage."

"I'm sure we will learn to be," she said, turning away from me.

I turned and left the room, feeling far more hopeless than I had when I'd entered.