Chapter IV:
Anette found Loraine in the market the next day, having slept most of the day already. She was terrified after the memory from last night.
"Have you seen Peter?" Anette asked, looking around for him. She didn't see him anywhere.
"Why?" Loraine asked, her voice cracking. "So you can go kiss him again and then pretend you don't know who he is?"
Anette stops looking for Peter and looks at her instead. "Loraine, I didn't know who he was before yesterday! Please, I really need to speak to him. It's important."
Loraine rolled her eyes. "Do you need to talk about how great it was last night? How nice it was to meet him?"
"No, Loraine! Would you please stop this?" Anette said, beginning to look around for Peter again. "I just need to tell him one little thing."
"What? What do you need to tell him that is so important?" She scoffed. "You made me believe he only has eyes for the princess."
"Would you please answer my question?" Anette asked.
"I haven't seen him," Loraine finally said. "He's your suitor; he should be around you at all times."
"Why are you being like this?" Anette frowned at her friend.
"You stole him away," Loraine snapped. "You lied to me and said you wouldn't and look what you've done!"
"What have I done, Loraine?" Anette hissed. "If you took one step into my life you would cry within the first five minutes!"
"Why? Because the poor little girl lost her memory? Because she has nothing better to do than ruin other people's lives?"
Anette widened her eyes and stared at her. "I can't believe you just said that to me," she whispered and ran off.
She bumped into someone and looked up. "Oh, Peter!" she cried. "I've been looking everywhere for you!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her house. "I need to talk to you in private."
"About what?" Peter asked. Anette pulled him into her house and marched into her room before shutting the door.
"Peter," she said. "Last night…I…remembered something. Something that I never could remember before."
"What did you remember?" Peter asked eagerly, grabbing her shoulders and holding onto them tightly, as if they were his lifeline.
"You were…talking to me. You promised that you would find me again." She hesitated before speaking again. "You called me Anastasia."
Peter smiled and his eyes sparkled. "That's what I said when I gave you that bracelet. That was also the first time I had ever called you Anastasia instead of Princess or Princess Anastasia."
"You said you also saved Judith," Anette said. "I want to see her. I don't remember her at all."
Peter nodded. "You should. She needs to know you didn't die. She'll be so glad to see you. But she's been staying in other country, Julius, because it's too dangerous to stay here in Navera, even if she wasn't part of the immediate royal family."
"We're right by the border," Anette said. "It won't take us longer than a few days, will it? I can't be gone longer than two weeks."
"No, it will take about two days to get there and the same to get back. But I…" he paused. "I wouldn't recommend coming back. With the rumors, your disappearance will seem suspicious and if you come back you'll be interrogated and your scar will be found."
"Mama," Anette whispered. But what could she do, give up a woman who wasn't her real family or give up the woman who was? "I know," she finally said. "But Judith is my family, my blood." She paused. "You'll stay, won't you?"
Peter smiled. "It would be rude to refuse a princess twice." He bowed. "Yes, I'll stay if you'd like me to."
"Twice?" Anette asked.
Peter nodded. "You probably don't remember, as I'm guessing that your memory is coming back in small bits, but before I helped you escape, you told me I had to come with you, but I said no."
Anette frowned. "No, I…I don't remember that." She hesitated. "When can we leave? I want to go as soon as possible."
"Now, if you'd like," Peter said.
"I need to…leave Mama a note," Anette said, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, and writing a quick note on it. She rushed into the room and set it on her dresser, accidentally bumping into it.
A small compartment swung open and something sparkled inside it. Anette reached down and came back up holding a diamond necklace.
The one that matched the tiara.
Anette clenched the necklace in her hand and ground her teeth together angrily. Her mother had lied to her. All these years, she'd known at least that she had come from a rich family, and she'd kept it hidden away.
Anette stormed out of the room. Peter caught her elbow and turned her around. "What's wrong, Anette?"
She held up the necklace, tears in her eyes. "My mother told me that when she found me I was dressed no different than I am now. But this," she shook the necklace. "Matches the tiara I saw in the abandoned castle!"
Peter took the necklace out of her hand. "You were wearing this that night. Your father had just given it to you, along with the tiara. I found that before any of Paul's men did and kept it." He looked at her face. "She was probably just nervous, or she was protecting you."
"She was lying to me," Anette snapped. "That's the only thing she was doing. Lying to me for years!"
Peter wrapped his arms around her. Anette didn't think anything of it, and she laid her head on his shoulder. "You'll come to forgive her, Anette."
"How can you know that?" Anette asked, a single tear sliding down her cheek. Peter wiped it away.
"Because I know you. You aren't one to hold a grudge, Anette. Even if you don't remember that anymore." He dropped the necklace in her dress pocket.
Anette pulled away from him slightly. "Why are you calling me Anette?" she asked, confused.
He raised his eyebrows. "Isn't that what you'd like to be called?"
"Well…I just thought that since, well, you knew me when I was Anastasia, that you would call me that instead." Her cheeks heated up and she ducked her head to hide her embarrassment.
He moved away her hair. "But the only time you can remember is when you are Anette. I won't make you uncomfortable and change it again until you're ready."
Anette reached up and touched his face. "You've barely changed at all," she whispered. "You're still almost the same."
He caught her hand and kissed it. "Unlike you. Even your hair is lighter than it used to be, which is good, because if Paul thinks you're still alive, he would be looking for you're old color, not this one. Actually, the only thing that really stayed the same is your eyes—still ice blue."
Anette nodded. "But I don't know how no one recognized me when I was fourteen. I didn't look any different."
"Because no one was looking for you," Peter said simply. "Everyone thought you were dead, so no one noticed how much you resembled Anastasia. And not many of the villagers had ever seen the princess in person."
"No soldiers, though?" she asked. "And how did Paul ever believe I was dead, without finding my body?"
"I'm not sure, but I heard that he figured you'd bled out somewhere and died. He never cared enough to look for your dead body. He was never suspicious enough to look for you alive." Peter tucked her hair behind her ear.
"How can someone be so awful to want to eliminate an entire family? And he very nearly succeeded!" Anette laid her head on his chest again.
"He was greedy and self-centered, Anette. Anyone who wasn't would never have done anything like that." He held her to him.
"Peter," Anette whispered. "What if Aunt Judith doesn't believe I am Anastasia? You yourself said it; I look nothing like myself aside from my eyes. What if she tosses me away as an imposter?"
"She'll know that I would know if it was you or an imposter," Peter said simply. "But if she still doesn't, we'll show her the bracelet, the scar, and the necklace. With evidence like that, you simply can't not believe you are Anastasia."
Anette wiped away her tear and nodded. Peter laughed. When she looked at him, a questioning look on her face, he said, "Anastasia would never let anyone see her cry, if she ever did. She believed it showed weakness and insecurity."
Anette frowned. "That's not what I believe anymore," she said firmly. "Crying doesn't show weakness; it shows that you care or it shows you're sad."
Peter smiled and nodded. "I know. But Anastasia believed she had to appear strong and brave, because she was a princess."
She smiled shyly. "Peter, answer me a question honestly."
"Anything," he replied instantly.
"Was I a bitch? A literally royal-pain-in-the-ass?" she asked. Peter laughed. Anette frowned and raised an eyebrow.
"No," he finally said. "You were the opposite of what anyone would expect of a royal teenager, your entire family was kind and considerate. You were friends with me when I was your servant and you didn't care what anyone else thought. Paul, Paul is the image people get when they think 'king.' He's selfish and self-centered. He does everything for his own personal gain. That is why no one cares for him much as a ruler, though no one will ever admit it."
Anette nodded. "I was afraid you would say yes," she admitted. Then she looked at the darkening sky. "We should go or I'll be delayed another night by Mama."
As she spoke the last word, her mother opened the door and stepped inside. She looked up and was about to say something when she spotted Peter.
"Oh. Hello. Who are you?" she asked, setting down her basket and looking at Peter and then back at Anette. "Anette, who's your friend?"
Peter held out his hand. "Ma'am," he said politely. "My name is Peter. I'm a friend of Anette's." Mama took his hand and he bowed over it, kissing it.
Mama flushed. "I am Victoria, Anette's mother," she said. Anette excused herself, running to grab the note on her mother's dresser and shut the compartment where the necklace had been. She stuffed the note in her pocket.
"Are you staying for dinner?" Mama asked Peter as Anette reentered the room. Peter shook his head.
"I must be getting home," he said before turning and bowing to Anette. "Until we meet again pr—Anette." He quickly hid his mistake and left the house.
"He is very polite," Mama mused. "I like him. Does he fancy you? Anette! Have you finally found a worthy suitor?"
Anette noticed how she had said 'finally' and rolled her eyes. Many girls were married at fifteen or sixteen, rarely ever late than eighteen. But Anette was nineteen, and she had turned down numerous proposals.
"He is a friend, Mama," Anette said. "That is all, simply a friend and no more than that. But yes, he is very kind."
"Wait. Was he the man who was once the princess's friend? The one who went missing?" Mama shook her head. "Poor girl. She must be scared to death, wherever she is."
"You don't believe she was killed?" Anette asked, clenching her hand into a fist to keep from touching the jewels in her pocket.
"No, heavens, no!" Mama cried. "Her body was never discovered! Of course, her blood stains the carpet, but it could be a cut. But imagine how horrible it must be, living under the rule of the man who had your family murdered. I feel the most pain for the little Princess Janice. She was only five when she died, you know. Anastasia would have been fourteen."
"What's for dinner?" Anette asked suddenly. She wanted to get her talk off of the princess.
Off of her.
"Scallops! Scallops and bread! Bought them both fresh at the market!" Mama cried, obviously pleased with her surprise.
But during dinner, Anette barely touched the delicacy. Her stomach was rumbling as she thought about her and Peter's coming journey to Julius to find Judith.
Her only remaining blood family.
That night, as she was trying to sleep, something tapped on her window. Anette got up to investigate and saw Peter's face peering through the glass.
She smiled and opened the window. "What are you doing here?" she whispered. "It's so late!"
"I was under the impression you wanted to get to Julius as soon as possible," he replied quietly. "And I brought a horse."
Anette grinned. "I'll be out as soon as possible," she said. She shut the window and changed out of her nightgown, slipping the necklace back into her pocket. She placed the note on the table and opened the door quietly before running to Peter.
He hugged her tightly before pulling her towards the awaiting horse. He climbed on first and pulled her on next.
"Where do you think you're going?" Loraine asked from behind them. Anette turned around and stared at her. "What, are you going to elope and leave your former best friend?" She enunciated the word 'former' and smirked.
Anette frowned. "Former? Loraine, don't be like this. You know I would never do that. Ever."
Loraine rolled her eyes. "I don't know you at all anymore. For example, how you forgot to tell me about that memory you had? Forgot to mention who you really are? Where you're from, Anastasia?"
Anette gasped. "Loraine, you…you heard? You were eavesdropping on Peter and I? How could you?"
"How could you?" she nearly yelled. "I asked you if you were the lost princess, and you lied and said you weren't!"
"Because I didn't know!" Anette screamed. "I had that memory last night! That's when pieces started coming back! And I didn't tell you to keep you safe! I am wanted around here, I could be killed!"
"So where are you going, Princess?" Loraine snarled.
"I'm going to find the only real family I have left!" Anette snapped. "And I won't be back, that's for sure."
"Anette, we need to leave," Peter said quietly.
"Fine, go," Loraine said. "It's not as if you have any regard for me at all. You know, I could tell King Paul who you really are."
"But you won't, Loraine. If you have anything redeeming about you, you won't tell Paul who I am, because I do not threaten him." Anette turned and latched her arms around Peter's waist tightly, and the horse galloped away from Loraine and Anette's home.