The Echopraxic Crown Princess

My mother held my hand, her eyes rimmed with red.

"The Crown Prince has a childhood sweetheart who's been raised beside him since they were little," my mother had warned me. "Apparently she has some kind of panic disorder. She cries, faints, and collapses over the slightest thing.

"Elara, whatever you do, don't copy her. Your body won't survive even one round of that nonsense."

On my very first night in the Crown Palace, Adrian never came to my chambers.

His delicate childhood sweetheart did.

Lillian Vale stood outside my door with tears shimmering in her eyes.

"Your Highness, please don't be angry. Adrian only stayed with me because my condition flared up. He didn't mean to neglect you on your wedding night..."

Her lips trembled.

"Maybe I should just die. Then I wouldn't come between you anymore."

She pulled a silver hairpin from her hair and raised it toward her wrist.

My eyes lit up before common sense could catch up.

My hand shot toward the scissors on the table.

I copied her motion and slashed across my own wrist.

The entire Crown Palace erupted.

"My Lady!"

Nora, the maid who had come with me from home, threw herself at the bed.

"Someone get the royal physician! Now!"

She wrapped a handkerchief around my wrist.

Blood soaked through immediately.

She added a second layer.

Then a third.

It kept coming.

I had been born weak, but the worst problem was my blood. It barely clotted.

When I was eight, I copied my half sister climbing the ornamental stonework in the garden, slipped, and scraped a patch of skin no bigger than my thumbnail from my knee.

I had been afraid Father would scold me, so I covered it with a bandage and said nothing.

That night, Nora came in with a late supper, lifted my blanket, and found the entire bed red.

The tiny scrape had bled for four hours without stopping.

The family physician had rushed over before dawn and used every treatment he knew before the bleeding finally slowed.

Father smashed a teacup when he saw me.

The very next morning, he announced the rule that became famous throughout our estate:

No crying. No tantrums. No dying in front of Elara.

After that, the kitchen staff wouldn't even chop vegetables where I could see them.

And now I had just opened the artery in my wrist.

Nora's hands shook as she wrapped another cloth around it.

The blood soaked through again.

"Why is everyone standing there?" she screamed toward the doorway. "Get the physician! Her bleeding doesn't stop once it starts!"

Lillian swayed.

She staggered back against the doorframe and clutched her chest.

"I'm... I'm scared..."

Tears rolled down her face.

"Why would Her Highness copy me? Does she hate me? Is she trying to make everyone think I forced her to do it?"

She crouched down, hugging herself and gasping between sobs.

"My panic disorder is starting again... My chest hurts... It hurts so much..."

Bess, her maid, immediately rushed to her side.

"Miss Lillian! Please don't frighten me!"

The two of them blocked the doorway with their crying and shouting.

Nora nearly lost her mind.

"Move! I need to get the physician!"

Bess glared at her.

"Don't shove her! If Miss Lillian faints because of you, will you take responsibility?"

Then she pointed at me.

"Your mistress could bleed for ten days and still be fine. Miss Lillian actually faints!"

Nora shook with rage.

"She can bleed to death!"

Bess gave a cold laugh.

"She cut herself. Whose fault is that?"

They began arguing in the doorway.

Lillian's sobs grew louder.

I leaned against the headboard and watched red spill steadily from my wrist.

My head was getting heavy.

So sleepy.

Cold crept from my fingertips upward.

People were talking somewhere nearby, but their voices seemed to come through deep water.

My vision blurred red.

I wanted to tell them to stop arguing.

My lips wouldn't move.

Just before consciousness disappeared completely, a sharp announcement rang from outside.

"His Highness the Crown Prince!"