The rustling of wind through leaves brushes over my ears. The field Amber and I have retreated to with lunch is perfect: secluded and shaded, but open and sunny, and there’s even a river. No one will come across us here; we can finally relax. I found this location last year and come here whenever I can now. To just sit here, listening to nature’s music makes all the hardships of life bearable, not to mention that they seem to wash away in the current of symphonies of the wind.

Sometimes when I listen, it sounds as if the most alluring woman is singing a lullaby just for me. If she were to appear to me, I would have eyes for no other, no matter how long I lived. But my fantasy lady by no means ever materializes. Not that I expect her to exist, but….. I can still wish, can’t I?

I gaze at the clouds, just losing myself in the sky. “Where’d you go? I can’t find you! Please come out, I’ve got to go home soon!” I don’t remember anything about my past fiancé outside of what my dreaming mind imagines. Wouldn’t that be tragic, marrying someone you don’t remember anything about? Well, betrothed or not, my life can’t go much more downhill, can it?

My mind starts to wonder even more as my eyelids close their doors to the outside. The warmth of the sun acts as the last key to the dreaming world beneath.

“Hey, Zeph… Zeph, wake up.” I open my eyes to the face of a girl about 6 or 7 years old. “I’m booored.”

“Well….what do you want to do?” I sit up.

“I don’t know… um…” Airy suddenly gets a gleam in her eye that I’ve come to fear. “I know, let’s go spy on Mother’s tea party.” At “tea party” she scrunches up her nose. “Whoever can get closer without being spotted wins!”

“Then you win. I’m not going to get in trouble with Mom for playing too close to their tea party.”

“You're just too chicken. You're never any fun anymore Zeph. I don't need you to enjoy myself anyways.” She turns to scurry into the brush.

“But sis-” Airy turns back around

“I’m not your sister, you big baby. Both our parents are different and Father told me that means we’re not siblings. You’re just being a wimp.”

I look down at the ground. “But this is your home, so you have the ad-van-tage.” I proudly use the word I had recently learned.

She grabs my hand and I look up at her. “Nonsense,” she says, pulling me up, “all it takes is a good pair of eyes to spot the decent hiding places. You’re just scared of being alone.” I’m on my feet by now but Airy still hasn’t let go of my hand. Instead of taking it back, I enjoy the safety I feel from the connection in the stifling silence that follows. “Fine… you’re such a baby… we’ll go together.” She keeps her face turned away from me as she drags me along, but from the tone of her voice I can tell Airy’s got her playful pout gracing her face. Cautiously I follow her around the clearing, getting closer to the four women sipping tea around a crystal table.

My mother in her lavender dress sits across from Airy’s white and gold clad mother. Seated on either side of them are two slightly younger looking women. To my mother’s right, the older one wears a richly dark red and cream dress with a cascade of pearls gracing her neckline. Her auburn hair is up in a loose bun styled to appear like waves with a full bloom blood rose at its source. Across from her, the raven haired lady has a much quieter appearance. Her hair is in a simple braid and her layered gown is made of relaxing shades of teal and blue. We are almost close enough to touch them when out of nowhere Airy pulls me down. I look at her to question her action but she puts her finger to my mouth to shush me and mouths something. I take it as “close enough.”

We spy on them from our position for a while but nothing interesting happens. I would leave but I don’t want Airy to hate me and stop playing with me so I stay. Eventually I fall back to sleep.

****

Ouch! I bit my lip as another of the tailor's pins stabs me. Guess what- either Father or Mother or one of the dozen other people who has more say than me over my life, has decided I need even more doll's clothes to wear. The one currently being fitted is for tonight's banquet where I will be expected to dance with every maiden once and hear gossip for weeks about any I dance with twice.

“Perhaps with this one we could change the style of the neck area; maybe lessen the height. It-”

My left hand starts to reach for my neck, as if showing my agreement, before Timothy cuts off the tailor. “No, the Queen wishes all his clothes to be kept this style until he is much older.” Even though it feels like I’m being treated like a little kid, I know he only says it that way because he is trying to not expose a secret. He is just trying to hide the reason behind keeping those stuffy high neck style cloths- the secret I was raised to feel shamed by. I start to wonder if my scars are really on my neck and not also on my heart.

****

I inspect myself in the full length mirror. The tailor ended up adding even more frills to this outfit, making me feel even less like an actual human and more like a mannequin.

The mirror reflects my displeasure but the prince within it looks better than me- more noble, more regal, more like a true prince. The man in the mirror may look like me- the blonde hair, the blue eyes, even the height- but he's perfect, the crown prince my parents wanted. Instead they got me as their heir.

Timothy comes to inform me that the dinner party is about to begin. Not allowed to be late, I swiftly walk out of my room towards the stage commonly known as a banquet, where I shall play the part of that perfect prince in the mirror. I wonder as I walk down into the banquet hall, if I pretend long enough, will I become him? I can't help feeling if I was him, my life would be better.

Sooner than I’d like, I come to the immense doors of the dining hall. Let the performance begin. I am announced and then there is a haze of introductions: dukes, earls, lords, and baronesses galore. There is even this lady of around the same age as me called Morwenna. I remember her mostly because after the introduction, I offend her by mispronouncing her name.

Each moment is less bearable than the last at events like this, but I can’t show that as long as I wear this mask. Would anyone ever accept the prince behind this mask if they knew me? Other than my sisters, there was ever only one person and she’s gone.