Princess Moments

Spare in the Spotlight

By Katie Fitzgerald

“I’m not supposed to be doing this.” Princess Katrina Julia Daphne Pierce stood before the mirror in her bedroom at the palace, lamenting the poofy cupcake of a dress her mother insisted she put on. “I can’t stand it.”

Queen Frieda made gentle, soothing noises as she walked circles around Kat, fluffing out the dress here and tucking in a jewel there. “I realize it’s not ideal,” she conceded. “But until we can get your sister to see reason, we will need you to stand in her place. It’s just one gala. You used to come to those with no complaints.”

Kat didn’t think that was strictly true. She had never put on a gown without grumbling. But she did remember feeling comforted by the fact that her sister, older by twenty-two months, absorbed most of the spotlight. None of the eyes were ever on Kat because they were all enamored of Princess Bernadette Louise Clara Pierce. Even if Kat might have sometimes liked a few glances her way, she knew that was not her role. Stepping into her sister’s literal shoes (and gown) felt like landing on foreign soil.

“Is she seriously going to art school?” Kat asked, willing herself to stand still despite the itchy fabric rubbing against her back and side. She just couldn’t imagine Bernie walking away from her duties to chase a dream, especially knowing that Kat, in all her awkward, homely clumsiness, would be the one to take her place.

“Time will tell, I suppose.” Her mother glanced at the clock. “I think we’re done for now. The duke will be here momentarily to practice.”

“The duke?” Kat blinked, processing her mother’s words. Of course, she would have a male escort to the royal gala. How could she have forgotten that? It was further proof that she was not cut out for anything more than standing in Bernie’s shadow.

“Duke Montrose,” the queen clarified, intentionally avoiding Kat’s eyes.

Kat understood why. Since before she could remember, Duke Paul Montrose had been a part of her circle of acquaintances. He was handsome, and smart, excellent with the press and, randomly, an accomplished graphic designer. Her sister and mother both knew that, since the age of ten, Kat had carried a torch for Paul, feelings that someone like him would never reciprocate for a princess who was only the spare.

“Does he know Bernie’s gone?”

Queen Frieda nodded, and though Kat felt her fight-or-flight response beginning to kick in, she had to force it down because one, she was not coordinated enough to pull a Cinderella and make a run for it in this dress, and two, someone had just knocked on the door to the parlor and her mother had admitted him.

Paul greeted the queen first with the customary bow, then bowed to Kat. “Your Highness,” he said using the formal manner of speaking all the young nobility had been taught at school. “I am glad to see you.”

“The music is on the stereo,” Queen Frieda said, gathering the pins she had been using on the gown. “We are looking forward to having you with us tomorrow night, Your Grace,” she told the duke. Then, before Kat could protest, her mother departed.

“So it is true?” Paul said. “You’re going to step into the line of succession after all.” He shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day.” He chuckled, and Kat’s heart swelled. Why did he only grow more handsome each time she saw him? Why was she the only person in the world to endure a ten-year awkward phase?

“It’s temporary. Bernie’s just having an early mid-life crisis.”

“If you say so.” He stepped toward the stereo and selected a track from the CD the queen had left behind. “How’s your waltz?”

“Terrible,” Kat blurted. Everything was terrible. Her face. Her hands. Her teeth. Her shoes. This stuffy room. This handsome man. Her selfish sister.

“Okay,” Paul said, taking it in stride. “Then let’s start there.” He pressed the play button, then assumed the proper position, one hand on her shoulder and the other hand holding hers. “There we go.”

Kat found his voice so soothing, she relaxed slightly in his hold. She did her best to count in her mind with the rhythm of the recording, but she kept getting lost, and her feet tangled with Paul’s. She was afraid that at any moment she was going to hear the sound of fabric tearing as her shoes shredded her gown. It might look like a cupcake, but it wasn’t a cheap one, nor could it easily be replaced at the last minute.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “See? Utterly terrible.”

“Let me count for you,” Paul offered, and he started up again. With his lips close to her ear, he whispered the numbers. “One, two, three, one, two, three.” To her surprise, it worked. As long as Paul counted, she could feel the rhythm of the music and stick to the steps. “Not so terrible,” he said gently when the musical piece came to an end.

“Unfortunately, they will play more than waltzes,” Kat said.

“Then we’ll practice another one. It’s not like I’m so great either.” He changed the music, and this time they worked on their foxtrot. Kat stumbled almost immediately.

“Easy there, Your Highness.” Paul’s hand slipped down to her waist to keep her steady, and even when she had her balance he didn’t remove it. “You okay?”

She sighed. “Just bad at this. Why did you even agree to come tomorrow? We’re going to look like clowns.”

The only word to describe the look on Paul’s face was “caught.”

“Well,” he began. “I actually wasn’t supposed to be your sister’s escort. She asked my cousin, Dylan. But when we heard you were taking her place…”

The embarrassment was like a stab to the heart. “He didn’t want to be seen with me,” Kat said, finishing his sentence in the only way she could imagine it ending.

“No,” Paul protested, guiding her backward so he could look into her face. “Dylan would have come and been fine, but—” He inhaled sharply, then let the air out. “I really wanted this chance. I wanted a date with you, Kat.”

Kat’s eyes widened as she took in his words, finding her own voice gone utterly mute. Him, want her? She thought back over the years. At age ten, in the school yard, his ball had gone through the area where she was jumping rope, and he had brushed past her on his way to retrieve it. A couple of the other young duchesses and ladies had scolded him for daring to enter their private space, but Kat had found his apology endearing, his floppy hair sweet.

She thought of other balls and galas she’d been forced to attend as a young teenager, when she’d looked up from her table to watch him from afar and had accidentally made eye contact with him. She had assumed he had been disgusted by her peering at him. It had never occurred to her that he might be looking her way too.

“But I’m not cut out for this like Bernie is,” Kat said finally, her voice hoarse, her mouth dry.

“I don’t care if you’re not,” Paul said. “But I also don’t really believe that. You’re as capable as she is, and as smart, and as articulate, and dancing just takes practice, and certainly there’s no one more beautiful—” He stopped himself there. “I want to go with you to the gala, Kat. And I think, deep down, you want to go with me.”

How could she explain? Of course she wanted to go. She wanted all of it: the photos in the newspapers, and the gossipy posts online, the lipstick shades named in her honor, and the ability to turn heads just by entering a room. But if she went for it and lost, if she fell flat on her face and proved that everything she’d ever told herself was true, she’d never recover.

She let the silence go on too long, and Paul had to break it. “Look, I’m sure if you really don’t want to go with me, we could come up with a way to convince your mother. Or I could tell Dylan I changed my mind. I don’t want you to be there with me if it’s not where you want to be.”

The temptation to let him walk away was overwhelming. Kat could easily let Paul go and continue living as she always had, cowering in corners, hiding in the shadows, telling herself she wasn’t enough. But she also recognized now that there was another option. Kat could embrace both her crown, small and modest though it might be compared to her sister’s, and this man, who wanted to be seen with her even if no one else did.

Again, she was too quiet for too long, and Paul spoke. “I understand,” he said sadly. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.” He went for the doorknob, but before he could turn it, Kat laid her hand on top of his.

“Wait,” she said. “Just…wait.”

He turned, his eyes met hers, and Kat, who still didn’t quite have words for what she was feeling, leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.

“I think,” Kat said, “that if I’m with you, I might actually be able to do this.” If he truly saw her, it didn’t matter if she was invisible to all the rest of the world. Bernie had never shared the spotlight, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t room enough for two.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Paul said, and returning to his formal manners, he bowed and said goodbye.

***

The next night, dressed in crown and gown, Kat danced with Paul, finding that she was lighter on her feet than she could have imagined, and she couldn’t stop grinning. As she and Paul made their way around the dance floor, she heard the murmured remarks, and they weren’t what she had expected.

“They make an attractive couple,” some voices said.

Others added, “I never realized how lovely the younger princess was. Look at that smile.”

Kat’s favorite, though, was her own voice in her own mind not belaboring her mistakes, but celebrating the fact that, after all, she wasn’t a clown, or a joke, or a disappointment, but just as much a princess as her sister. “You are made for this,” she told herself.

When the orchestra began to play a ballad, she took Paul’s hand in hers and stepped in closer as his other arm found her waist. Shyly, she looked down for a moment, then lifted her chin and beamed up at him, hoping that when they said goodnight in a little while, their sweet kiss would be only the first of many good things to come.