'My, it sure is hard being a princess,' said Eliza to herself trying to walk on Mara's high-heeled shoes. Although she didn't have trouble dressing up, bespangling and combing— as a dozen chambermaids were doing all these for her—walking in those shoes was terribly hard. And there was no one who could help with that, for no one could walk in her shoes. She wanted to take them off after she was just about to fall over a few times. But Nanny Ana, who followed on her every step, shook her head in disapproval every time she tried to do so.

'A princess shouldn't walk barefoot not even after she gets out of bed,' she used to say. So Eliza saw herself forced to shackle her feet in those darn shoes.

Walking in shoes was the simplest of her responsibilities. Dining was just as unpleasant. The table was full of dozens of dishes of which Eliza never even heard of. Flavours of the weirdest kind. The real challenge at dinnertime was the multitude of cutlery set by her plate: for soup, steak, fish, dessert, salad, clams. How could she not get confused? Luckily, her nanny stood behind her and poked her every time she got it wrong until she picked the right one.

Then, there were the everyday chores. And my, were they many! Making sure all rooms were clean, even the uninhabited ones. Choosing every meal, sending for supplies from the market, deciding how many carts with firewood were needed for the winter... and so much more. How was Eliza supposed to know all those things? She has spent her whole life at the mill. Sometimes, she hated Adrian for not preparing her ahead of time. Other times, she cried because she couldn't manage everything she had to do. Or maybe she cried because she missed her old father and the home she left behind.

But now it was too late to change her mind, for Adrian and Mara, and even herself would be in danger if their secret was out. And each time, Nanny Ana was there for her, giving her the wisest advice. This is how Eliza managed to fulfil her duties as a princess. One night, after she retired to her room to learn how to stitch an embroidery—for this was also one of her duties—Nanny Ana put her sewing down in her lap and asked looking her dead in the eye:

'Who are you, child?'

Eliza's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't face her and she mumbled something, pretending to be absorbed in working the piece of cloth. But her hands wouldn't listen and she stung her finger, a drop of blood falling on the white cloth.

'What do you mean who am I?' she said trying to keep herself calm. 'I am Princess Mara. Your Mistress.'

'Princess Mara, my mistress, can sing like no other. And you haven't sung one song since we were on our way here from the miller's house,' said the nanny fixing her with a firm look. 'I know Princess Mara since birth. I held her; I cared for her when her poor mother was too troubled to do it. Besides, Princess Mara has known how to use the right tableware since she was three. Her mother taught her this patiently, for one month straight. Princess Mara knows what to use when eating pheasant and what is the best garnish for rabbit stew. Princess Mara doesn't stumble when wearing shoes and she doesn't chew with her mouth open; nor does she let out burps at the table. Princess Mara doesn't snore like a pig and she doesn't drool on the pillow.'

Eliza listened without saying a word, staring at the ground, her cheeks red with shame.

'I don't know how Princess Mara convinced you to take her place. You are lucky you look so much like her. Don't you worry, my dear,' she added. 'I will always be at your side and help you out if this is the wish of my real Princess. But remember, child. The hardest thing in this world is to pretend you are something you're not and hide what you really are.'

●

The day the Dark Prince was supposed to return, great excitement spread through the castle. All windows were wide open, every room was cleaned, all the sheets were washed, every corner swept. In the kitchen, the prince's favourite meal was being prepared—pheasant stuffed with blackberry sauce, baked potatoes with buffalo butter and bread made with flour of the finest wheat, brought from faraway lands where sunlight was not so scarce. For dessert, tarts and cakes were to end the feast. Eliza felt at ease amid the preparations which seemed as waking up the whole castle from its winter slumber. She entered the kitchen where plump lady cooks were moving like walking barrels and young girls were helping to stir the pots or wash the dishes.

But somewhere in the corner, someone was crying her eyes out in whimpers and hiccups, her face buried in her apron. It was a young blonde girl, about the same age as Eliza, who has just been scolded by one of the master lady cooks. Eliza couldn't bear seeing someone sad, let alone crying, so she came closer to find out what happened. Surprised to see the Princess in the kitchen, the lady cook and the crying girl forgot their quarrel and bowed down to the ground in front of her.

The lady cook was the first to speak:

'What happened was that this clumsy girl did not batter the dough and now the bread won't rise. Master will have to eat bread so hard, his teeth will fall off. And his teeth will not be the only ones to fall off...' she said glaring at the scared girl.

Hearing this, the poor girl started crying even harder than before. Eliza felt pity for her and, tucking up her sleeves, she grabbed an apron and asked for a bag of flour to be brought to her.

'The secret for good bread starts with well-strained flour,' she said. And in a few moments, she was surrounded by all the kitchen workers marvelling at how well the Princess could handle the strainer.

After the straining was done, and Eliza was all covered with a fine powder, there was the battering. And after the dough was flying high, just about to go out the window, Eliza slapped it on the tray and threw it into the oven. After a while, she revealed under the curious noses of her spectators the softest, whitest bread they have ever seen. She then promised the young apprentice girl her secret will be safe and slowly walked out of the kitchen, forgetting she was wearing those uncomfortable shoes.

The kitchen women talked about the princess's bread even the day after, amazed at such skill coming from a girl raised at the castle, but not in the kitchen... or at the mill.

●

Eliza's heart was racing. The Dark Prince had just arrived and one of his commanders asked her to go in the Armory to meet him. Nanny Ana calmed her down saying that the Prince couldn't possibly know she is not the real princess, for he has seen her only once before.

But this was not the reason Eliza was restless. She has heard some dreaded stories about the Dark Prince. Like the one time when he cut the seven heads of a dragon in a single blow of the sword. Or the one when he slew an ogre with his dagger. Or he could conquer a small country in three days. For no one had the courage to stand against his wrath. So Eliza asked herself how could she be the wife of such a fierce and unforgiving man. She always dreamed of being the wife of a good, caring, grand and handsome prince, who would carry her on a white horse towards his bright castle.

'A princess must be brave enough to face anything,' she kept saying to herself while struggling to open the heavy door of the Armory. Someone on the other side of the door eventually opened it, and Eliza was just about to fall flat on her face, right in front of the Prince. Luckily, he was fast enough to catch her in time before she could fall.

A cold, unfriendly drift greeted her as she entered the room. Tidying up and adjusting her tiara, Eliza lifted her eyes for a closer look at the Prince. There was no wonder why he was called the Dark Prince. His dark hair shining like black oil, his eyes dark like storm clouds, and a scar on his cheek he got after a fierce battle made Eliza shiver and take one step back. The Prince was wearing armour with an eerie shine and a red hue glow. Eliza was horrified by the thought that it might be blood. Tommy, who was rarely separated from her, let out a thin gutted meow and took cover under his mistress's dress.

The whole room was packed with heavy armours which seemed like they were moving, but the girl chased that thought away quickly. The walls were stacked with the weirdest and varied weapons—crossed swords as if they were handled by unseen knights, shining rapiers, and sabres suited for giants. Covering the walls from top to bottom like a wallpaper of war patterns. The colossal room seemed like a temple of hate and despair.

'I hope you like your new home, Princess,' she heard the Prince's cold voice and saw him shining a rapier. Like she wasn't even there.

'Yes, Your Highness,' said Eliza in a soft voice, taking a bow as Nanny Anna had thought her. 'Only—'

The Prince raised an eyebrow, forgetting about the blade and looking her in the eyes.

'Only?'

Eliza looked at him for a moment. Their eyes met, and the Prince winced seeing those dark eyes, just like his, only warm and with a vivid flicker.

'Only it is not as warm as it ought to be,' she dared 'for the people who inhabit it...'

'It is not your duty to change the course of things around here!' roared the Prince. 'Your duty is to keep things in order in the castle when I'm gone. And to mind that I have everything I need when I'm here.'

Eliza couldn't mutter a word. This is not how she imagined meeting the Prince for the first time.

'Now you can leave,' he said turning his back on her. 'I shall see you at dinnertime. And you should mind dusting off whatever is covering your clothes.'

Eliza left the room dizzy, Tommy hanging on to her dress. Only then she noticed she still had flour on her dress.

●

The feast for the return of the Prince was so abundant, that Eliza thought it could feed the people from the village she grew up in for a whole week. Stuffed hen with berries, sucking piglets on large platters, garnished with baked vegetables. Tens of sorts of sauces, of most diverse colours and with most inviting flavours. Cakes, pudding pies, and soufflés, fruits of the most unusual kind, and of course the Prince's favourite dishes accompanied by white bread. The wine was flowing in rivers, for the Prince and his army were celebrating a new victory.

But now Eliza was a princess, and she had to look the part. She mustn't marvel at the wonders laying before her eyes. She was glad she didn't have to sit at the Prince's side, but far away at the other end of the table. She was wearing Princess Mara's most beautiful dress and the shiniest tiara. And now she was watching the Prince enjoying his meal, taking a pinch of the white bread from time to time. The bread she cooked.

After dinner, which seemed to last forever, all diners went to the Throne Room, everyone taking sit in their well-known place. Eliza was not yet allowed to sit beside the Prince. It wasn't proper, the Wise Men thought for the wedding has not taken place yet. And the Prince has not yet been crowned King, but being the only royal descendant, he had the right to sit on the throne, just like his righteous father would have wanted to. Eliza didn't know the cause of the King and Queen's death, the Prince's parents. Not even how a Prince so young had come to rule over such a vast land. She was to ask the Prince on the first occasion. After all, he was to become her husband, and spouses are not to keep secrets from each other. Or at least so she has heard. Her thoughts were interrupted by the Prince's cheerful voice.

'And now, for this evening to be properly celebrated, Princess Mara will delight us all with her beautiful voice. I didn't have the pleasure to listen to it yet, but the word of its marvel has travelled beyond seas. Now it's time to enchant us, too.'

Pale-faced, Eliza tried to say something, anything; but choked on her stubborn words.

'Regrettably, Your Highness, the Princess will not be able to delight us with her voice tonight,' she could hear like in a dream the calm voice of Nanny Ana. 'I'm afraid a cold has left her with fog in her throat so she can't pull out one note.'

Eliza approved this with repeated nods, and to be as convincing as possible, she coughed a few of times.

'Then I see no point in her being here anymore. She should be in her room taking care of her cold,' said the Prince as blood was rushing to his face. It was the second time Eliza was not indulging him. And all in one day. With a short gesture, he showed her the way out.

Eliza took a small bow and left dragging her feet. It almost didn't matter how she looked in front of everyone. Who has ever heard of a celebration the Princess could not attend? Nanny Ana was pushing her from behind, rushing her towards the exit. Just as the court musicians and jesters were showing up in the Throne Room, cheering up the whole place.

Once she reached her room, Eliza slammed the door and threw herself on the bed. Her life as a princess was nothing like she imagined. Where were the balls with dances, the long walks in the garden? Where were the servants ready to fulfil her every wish? Here, everyone was minding after their own chores, and besides the respect and obedience shown for a future queen, nobody asked about her feelings. And most of all, where was the loving prince who was to ride with her on his white horse to the most amazing corners of the kingdom? Where was the young man who was supposed to show her places she never imagined could exist and shroud her with his love?

But Eliza was not the girl to give up that easily. She wiped her tears, blew her nose, and dipped her head in the pillow; thinking the next day she would find the most skilled teacher to show her how to sing, more beautiful than any mockingbird. And the Prince, as grumpy as he was, would not resist her voice and hopelessly fall in the shrouds of love like any prince should fall for his princess. 

I hope you like Eliza's story so far. Please vote, comment and let me know what you think. Thank you!