The Imposter

New Year Resolution

Neville found Mary where he knew she'd be. Praying in the chapel. He quietly walked over and knelt by her. "You're very good at chess, sister. You were winning the match."

"It's a just a game." Mary rose from her knees, displaying less emotion than the wooden bench she sat back on. "I was watching you all night. There's something different about you, Sister. You were always left handed, now you use your right one." She reached out and touched his arm. "Why are your arms so muscular?"

"The country air has made me grow stronger." Neville laughed nervously. Was Mary's willingness to converse with him a crack in her protective armor? "I know being isolated from Father isn't a game to you. You love him."

"Yet, he ignores me." Once a proud royal, she lowered her head in sad defeat.

Neville saw the crack in the girl's emotional shield had slightly widened. "Father wants a family again. What if we work together to make him happy? Perhaps he'll favor you again."

Mary looked up. "How would that magical feat happen, Sister?"

Neville wondered if hope had pierced the dark cloud surrounding her heart. When she spoke, he felt as if he had glimpsed her wounded soul. He sat down, facing her, noting they were the same height. He gently clasped her hand. "We mustn't feel sorry for ourselves, Mary. That sentiment will get us nowhere."

"I don't pity myself, you fool!" Neville realized his mistake in his choice of words as Mary abruptly leaned forward. Clawing at him, she ripped the hairpiece off of his head. Cold air rushed over Neville's naked scalp.  She held the red wig in her hand. Taunting him, she dangled it in front of his face. "You're an imposter!" A perverted, ugly boy! Who, in God's name are you?"

"Someone who has more manners than you!" Neville snatched his wig back, depositing it on his head. "I'm not here to take your place, Mary. I've been nothing but nice to you." He turned his back to her. Feeling like a fool, he waited for the guards to be summoned. Instead, he heard a low, raspy sound, as if a rusty gate was being opened. Surprised, he looked at the Princess. She was laughing.

Her eyes were manic, but no longer devoid of emotion. "What are you doing here, besides tempting fate, to lose your head, boy?"

Neville looked into the labyrinth of emotions playing over the crazed girl's face. The strongest one he saw, after curiosity and pain, was intelligence. In a split second, he decided to be honest with her.

"Mary, I wasn't given a choice about being brought here. The only difference between you and I, is that you were born into this life. I'm not a royal, I was friends with Princess Elizabeth. When she died, I was recruited to fool the king. The charade worked so well that I'm stuck here in the middle of plotting factions."

"Princess Elizabeth is dead?" Incredulous, Mary clasped her black crucifix to her chest. She held onto the beads as if they were a lifeline to keeping her sanity. Confusion clouded her face. "You are lying to me!"

The look of grief on his face was enough validation for Mary to confirm Elizabeth's passing. "I've prayed for her death for a long time. Tell me. How did she die?" Neville shook his head at the reverent tone in Mary's voice. Did she really believe her prayers had killed Elizabeth?

"She died of a fever, but it was not the Plague."

Mary looked up at the chapel ceiling, her eyes shining. "It's a miracle. God has answered my prayers!"

Neville remained silent, He knew a zealot when he saw one. He would have to proceed cautiously. Opening his palms, he displayed the white and black pawn. "Perhaps God wanted us to meet tonight, Mary. Separate, we're two insignificant pieces on the King's board, easily sacrificed. Together, we can help each other."

Neville saw the girl's mind working, similar to cogs turning in a well oiled machine. Now that disbelief had been banished from her mind, Mary's attitude towards him turned solicitous.

"Whoever you are, I like you. You're much nicer than Elizabeth. She was a temperamental and bossy whore."

She's volatile, like her father. "Elizabeth was spirited, but she was no whore." Neville objected. He felt he had to defend his dead friend. "Perhaps she was bossy with others, because she felt inferior to them."

"Mmmm.. then I guess we were alike in that way. Tell me, Sister. What would you propose to advance our stations with my Father?"  Mary's pale face had flushed with color, like a starving predator given new blood.

Neville was encouraged when he felt a hint of warmth emanating from the dark haired girl. It was as if a small ray of sunlight had shine on her face after an eternal winter. The young Princess would never grieve over her rival, her dead sister, but a bitter cloud of hate had been lifted from her heart. Perhaps this is enough to build a foundation of trust between us.

"We must get a gift for our brother, the King's son."