Chapter 2
The years passed, and my cousin the Queen lived a life of what most outsiders would envy. I was not an outsider and I knew the truth. It began early in the marriage. I would notice on my visits the bruises and marks on Debra's skin. I would ask, but she always had an answer to explain them away. My Queen began only wearing sleeves that would cover her wrists. The chaffing was getting so bad she could no longer hide it. When the King would entertain, Debra would just sit and not partake in any of the customary dancing. She sometimes needed help to walk. Distraught over my cousin's ill health, I had begged to delay my arranged marriage. At age eighteen my wish was granted, and I moved into the palace in Bucharest.
My husband to be was the second son of a rich nobleman. Having my cousin as Queen had improved my prospects and made me a more desirable match. The marriage was delayed for one year. What should have been my happiest days, turned into an endless cycle of horror and sympathy. My room in the palace was close to my Queen's, and I heard the things no one in the castle dared speak about. Sleep was impossible at nights, and if I did happen to drift, the noises would bring me back. When it got to the point I could no longer withstand the drumming and tears, I would creep out into the gardens and sleep underneath the stars. In the mornings I would visit Debra's chamber and tremble, but I never shed tears. Debra had warned me, "Never let him see you cry. Some men get aroused by such acts." I always wondered how many tears certain men needed. I stopped asking the first morning I had to sew my cousin because she had been so badly torn.
The months passed and Debra began leaving her room less. The welts and scars were getting impossible to conceal. I spent most days in her room reading her poetry and singing. We no longer played the game of telling stories, for I did not want to hear the ones she might tell. Debra never did say anything about her nights, not even in the mornings when I had to wash the blood off of her because she could not get from the bed to the tub. In fact, Debra's voice became more infrequent as the months rolled on. A month before my wedding, I asked for another postponement. It was granted, but only by order of the Queen herself.
It was an Autumn morning when I was first denied entrance into my cousin's chambers. The guard stated it was by order of the King himself. Every morning I tried, but I was always turned away. I tried in the afternoons and evenings as well, but with the same disheartening results. My room was moved to a more remote end of the castle, and it took me longer to reach Debra's room. That's when I began writing notes and asking the servants to hide them in the Queen's dinner trays...when she was allowed dinner. They were always scared, but some did as I asked. It was rumored the King would punish the servants by bringing them to his room where Debra was forced to watch. I had hoped my words would bring my cousin some hope, but never did I receive a response in return. I resorted to sneaking across the palace in the middle of the night to my old room just to hear her screams. It was the only way I knew Debra was still alive.
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