The world felt as though it were closing in on me.
The carriage swayed. Horses' hooves struck the hard ground. My stomach churned. None of it mattered. Not now.
Heaven knows I never wished for this. Not even for my enemy.
To be betrothed to a fool since birth. A man I knew only through his portrait. At least I knew he would be king of England. And now he is.
I have spent my life preparing for this day. Forced to learn a tongue not my own. I hate him for that — for locking my soul in a cage. I had to leave everything behind. Even the one I love most.
"Mathilda! Mathilda!"
My body shook as reality seized me.
"I... I... I beg your pardon."
"Endeavour not to behave so foolishly before the king." Anger flared in Gisela's eyes. My late mother's sister. My court lady.
I lowered my gaze and folded my hands upon my thigh.
"I am here only to guide you, and for but a season. Soon you shall be queen of England. Show them you are worthy of the crown." Her voice was firm.
I lifted my face to hers. "But what if I do not wish to be queen? I have scarce come to know myself, and I cannot—"
A slap landed hard upon my cheek. The force turned my face aside. My hair fell like a curtain across my face.
My body trembled.
"You are not doing the English a favour. It is we who are favoured. Let that truth settle in your mind."
Slowly, the carriage came to a halt.
The door opened.
"My lady, we have arrived." The old coachman stepped aside.
"Make yourself presentable." Gisela's voice was a whisper.
I blinked slowly, forcing back the tears.
I straightened my back and watched my aunt descend from the carriage. I followed shortly behind, aided by the coachman.
Faces awaited us ahead.
I walked slowly, beside my aunt, through a line of guards. Their polished breastplates caught the dull light. Their faces were carved from stone. They did not look at me. They looked through me.
My eyes widened as I recognised the face behind a woman I presumed to be the dowager. He looked quite different from the portrait... A little older, as though he were in his twenties. But I was only fourteen.
A hand tugged at my gown from behind. I startled. My eyes dropped to my aunt, who was already in a curtsey. Her gaze was sharp. That was when reality struck me.
I looked upon the awaiting face before me. I lowered myself slowly into a curtsey, my hand resting upon my dress.
"I trust you are not always so forgetful." The dowager's voice was cold as ice. My body trembled.
"I... I... It was most foolish of me, Your Grace." I straightened my posture.
I met her eyes, swallowing every fear.
His mother moved aside.
I swallowed hard. I stood before my greatest pain.
"Your Grace." I lowered myself into another curtsey, then rose.
His hand reached for mine. He kissed it. A warmth that never reached his eyes.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Maud."
Maud?
So even my name was to be stripped from me. Every last part of who I was, taken.
"Go on — take her to the solar." The dowager's voice was cold as ice as she addressed a maid behind her.
"My lady."
I was led into the castle, my aunt behind me. Its structure was unfamiliar — slightly different from what I had known.