A bluish mist was drifting across the path. The nebulous veil settled over the road and extended throughout the forest between the trees and shrubs. Never before had she seen such a thing! Did it mark a boundary? What did it mean? She blinked a number of times.
She was seized by a feeling of vertigo, and her stomach rumbled and turned as it had at the spring festival three months before when she’d gotten off the Breakdance with Marco. She needed to close her eyes for a moment. The nausea subsided at last, and she looked out the window of the coach once more. But when she looked back at the path again, she no longer saw the mist.
Goosebumps ran up and down her arms. She was glad that the kindly coachman was there. It gave her a little assurance. Once again, she looked back but saw nothing strange. She must have only imagined it. She stroked the fabric of her gown, cautiously felt her hair, and sighed. Again, she looked out the window, but all she could see were dense trees and shrubs—nothing but brown and green.
As she leaned back in the seat, her arms and legs felt lighter. She took a deep breath and relished the silence. No one was tugging at her arm. No one was asking for something to eat or drink. No one was whining because there was something they couldn’t find or someone had taken their toy. When had she last enjoyed peace and quiet like this? Had she had even a moment’s rest since becoming a single mother? Whatever this evening might bring, these moments were worth it all.
How much farther to Lichtenberg Castle? In a few minutes, they would round the bend and see the old ruin before them. She had been there a couple of times with her kids—the last time had been for a short hike the previous autumn. She wondered how they would manage to hold a ball there.
Maybe they had cut back the vines, cleared the debris, and stretched some kind of tarp over the sections of wall that remained. With decorations and the right lighting, it would certainly have been possible to transform the place into a magical venue despite its decrepit state. Hannah had experience with that sort of thing. How many a ramshackle meeting house or rowing club had she already transformed into a charming location for a wedding?
And what was this invitation—from a king she had never heard of or read about before—all about? Just a few more minutes of patience, and she was about to find out. Excited, she kept looking out the window. Soon the valley and ruin would appear. Soon. She could already see the bend in the road. After that, the road would lead along the valley and past the castle to the old bridge, and then, at last, the ruin would come into view. Two more seconds... one...
She moved up close to the window and was clutching its delicate frame when what she saw next took her breath away.
There on the hill in the valley was not the overgrown ruin she knew—no. There on the hill stood a castle unlike any she had ever seen before. The light-colored, nearly white stone it was built out of was shining brighter than the summer evening sun, illuminating the valley and trees all around. This tall, stately building had nothing in common with the ruin she had visited with her children a few months before. Countless turrets and oriels sprouted from the large main building, which had an enormous castle portal for an entrance. The walls and archway were adorned with numerous figures, which from a distance appeared to be angels and women. Between them were ornamental reliefs, though Hannah could not decipher them from afar. So many coaches and horses were bustling about in the spacious courtyard before this impressive building that Hannah could feel her knees start to tremble.
She turned her gaze once more toward the majestic building. What a sight it was! How could the ruin have been restored in such a short period of time? Without anyone noticing a thing? Not one report in the local press, no neighbors whispering—nothing. All the brides who came to Ines at the flower shop would surely have heard long ago about an estate as magnificent as this appearing in the neighborhood.
This castle could not have been built in a short amount of time. The work had certainly taken years. How was it that no one had reported on it, that no one had seen the cranes or deliveries of the building materials? That no hikers had heard the loud construction noises and complained? And Hannah herself and her children had noticed nothing?
Stunned, she shook her head as the carriage rumbled along and up to the castle courtyard. The horses came to a stop, and the coachman climbed down from the box to open the door.
In a moment, she would enter this castle to attend a royal ball—or whatever event it actually was. Smiling and with a pounding heart, she took the coachman’s proffered hand and headed toward the stately castle portal.
7
A long, long time ago
Mirabelle sat in the coach as it jerked along the country road. She was staring out the window while it jostled her back and forth. Across from her sat her mother, whose lips were pressed into thin lines. Since the moment they’d left their country estate, mother and daughter had not spoken a word.
Mirabelle had hidden her face behind a midnight-blue veil, and yet she felt naked, exposed, and, most of all, vulnerable. She did not want to go to this ball and risk becoming a laughingstock. She wanted to hide away in her room, preferably for the rest of her life. She was done with society and didn’t want to see anyone ever again. She had no need for them.
But her parents had been relentless. After she’d cried and pleaded her mother to concoct an excuse and politely decline, her father had entered the room. She didn’t have any idea how long it had been since the time she had seen him last—and then, suddenly, he was standing before her bed. He had lookedstraight at her, which had terrified Mirabelle more than his presence and harsh words.
“Mirabelle Madeleine Alice von Taustein! What we have here is an invitation from a king, and the von Taustein family has never and shall never refuse such an invitation. You shall go to this ball. That is my final word!” Having spoken, he had turned around and stalked out without even saying goodbye.
Mirabelle sighed. She had always loved her parents a great deal and had always been extremely certain of their love as well. But now that things had changed, she wondered if her exceptional beauty alone had been the reason she’d been so beloved. How all that had changed! Since her illness, her parents, the servants, and her friends all seemed to have no interest in visiting her—and Mirabelle would certainly never have forced them to.
Annabelle had tried her best to get Mirabelle to look forward to the ball. For her little sister’s sake, she had smiled while the seamstresses had pinned her midnight-blue, high-necked ball gown and adjusted the hem as she tried on her new lace gloves and the servants powdered her face. She’d been embarrassed by her mother’s insistence that the lady’s maids put makeup on her. She did not want them to handle her and recoil in disgust when they touched her skin with their fingers instead of a brush. And after seeing herself in the mirror for less than a second, it was clear that all the powder and cream would be of no help. No, they merely made her appearance worse, and her skin had itched and burned. Only once her mother confirmed that the makeup accomplished nothing was Mirabelle allowed to go wash it off with cold water. The burning and itching vanished, but the pain and the uncontrollable fear remained. If only there were a way to escape this obligation!
Her face free of makeup though covered with a gossamer midnight-blue lace veil, Mirabelle had climbed into the coachbehind her mother and not said one word since. They had been riding for hours when the coachman turned onto a road that led into a dense forest. Alternating oak, beech, and fir trees played host to a flock of titmice as they piped their little song.
Mirabelle hardly noticed. Her thoughts were already focused on the royal ball she was about to attend. She caught herself imagining that a young man was whirling her around the hall as they danced and that she was laughing out loud as she used to do, and that he fell in love with that laughter. But a moment later, she remembered her hideous skin and buried that dream along with the other dreams and desires she would never dig back up again.
A life of absolute loneliness—that was what fate had condemned her to. Self-pity and regret would not be of any help. That was simply the way things were.
“We’ll be there soon!” Her mother’s strangely thin voice broke the heavy silence in the coach, and she motioned toward the scene outside the window.
Its oriels and towers adorned with angel figures, the stately building rose up there on a hill in a wooded valley. The white stone the palace was made of shone brighter than the sun that cast its summer rays upon the valley. Mirabelle was astounded. Never before had she seen a castle as awe-inspiring as this.
Coach after coach was lined up one after the other in the courtyard before the massive castle portal. A lump began to form in her throat at the thought that soon she would have to climb out and leave the protected confines of the cabin.
The coach appeared to go faster and faster, and a short while later, the horses were trotting across the stone bridge and into the castle courtyard. When the coachman halted and Mirabelle heard him climbing down from the box to open the door, a cold sweat broke out all over her body. Unable to move, she remainedin her seat, though the coachman had already opened the door and was holding out his hand.
“Come, my darling.” It had been a long time since her mother had spoken to her so tenderly. But that frightened Mirabelle even more. A tremor ran up and down her limbs until her mother laid her hand on hers and smiled. “I shall remain by your side the entire time.”
The tears welled up in Mirabelle’s eyes. Grateful for the unexpected support, she nodded slightly and took the servant’s hand. She descended slowly from the coach, directly behind her mother, who immediately took her hand once more, and together they made their way to the castle portal.
