Through his tightly clenched teeth, King Wilhelm said, "Cordelia, you will explain yourself."
"Father," Cordelia repeated, the choking sound in her voice threatening tears.
"Who is this child, Cordelia?" King Wilhelm cut in, pointing his finger at John.
"He—he's my," Cordelia's voice was sinking lower as spoke, "Son."
"And in all your correspondence, it never once crossed your mind to inform me that you have had a child?" The king's face was flushed with rage, and the vein on his forehead bulged.
He stood abruptly, overturning the solid oak chair. He gestured toward the door, and Cordelia stood quickly and whispered John's name, her voice painfully loud in the silence cause by the confrontation. This is what happens when you avoid confronting your problems, Cordelia, she told herself with a sinking feeling. She felt about as small as her son.
As she led John out of the room, she noted that his face had drained of color. He likely hadn't witnessed such anger before, having spent most of his childhood in the castle. King Wilhelm had stomped off to his study, a place the princess was well-familiar with. She followed with an unwilling, slow pace, but years of discipline kept her from darting off and leaving this place behind. The world was not kind to a woman alone, even if she had a child. As Cordelia entered the library, she saw Hans in his usual corner.
"John," Cordelia said, touching his shoulder, "Why don't you visit with Hans for a while. I'll come for you later."
John's face relaxed slightly as he said, "Yes mama," but his brows furrowed in concern after taking his first step toward the steward. He turned to her, uncertainly.
"It will be well, John," Cordelia said confidently, trying to smile. He did not look convinced, but he followed her direction anyway.
Cordelia squared her shoulders and crossed the open space to the door to her father's study. Her hand shook as she opened the door and walked into the room that had often witnessed her punishment for her various crimes in the past. Cordelia looked everywhere but at her father until he sharply called her name. She swallowed back her tears and faced him, still standing by the door.
"Who is the boy's father, Cordelia?" King Wilhelm asked in a deceptively soft voice.
"Father," Cordelia took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "It's not as you imagine."
"How is it not exactly like I imagine, Cordelia?" He slammed his hand down on his desk, punctuating the question.
"I didn't— I never—" Cordelia's breathing was becoming erratic, and she was seriously concerned that she might break down in tears. "I… don't know where John came from, but he is my son."
"You found him?" Her father's voice had calmed some, but it was clear that he did not really believe her.
"Not exactly. He is my son, father, but I did not give birth to him." Cordelia knew he wasn't likely to believe her, but if she didn't at least tell the truth at the onset, she would only have cause to blame herself later. If she gave him all the details that she knew, and he still rejected her, she would have at least done all that she could. She would have to comfort herself with that as she knew her father's disposition. He was unlikely to change his mind once he had decided on something.
"You didn't give birth to him," her father scoffed. "Cordelia, are you a child? Do you think me stupid? Just tell me who the father is."
"I cannot because there is no father. He is my son alone," Cordelia said with a new sense of confidence. She should not feel ashamed. She had not done anything wrong. Concealing this matter had been foolish, but that was the worst of her faults.
"You're going to persist in this foolishness?" King Wilhelm's voice betrayed his shock, but his expression swiftly returned to the burgeoning storm cloud from earlier. "Very well." He stood to his feet, his voice shaking with indignation. "I will settle this matter at once. You have noticed that Chief Magician Friedrich has returned to the castle, yes? He will discover who your lover is, and when he does, you will no longer be my daughter."
"Father," Cordelia began, pausing as the tears threatened to strangle her. He was going to kill her. "Father, I swear to you, I have not—"
"I am weary of this nonsense, Cordelia, reveal that with whom you have defiled yourself, and perhaps we can make an arrangement so that you will not have completely disgraced yourself." He glared down at his daughter with great loathing as if even looking at her would set him into a rage.
Cordelia was beside herself, for even her maids would agree that no one had even come into her room, nor could they be certain that she had indeed sneaked out. The servants would question one another, wondering aloud how she had escaped her room without them noticing, whispering to one another when they thought she couldn't hear them. Better yet, they would ask, how was it that Cordelia had concealed the pregnancy and had the child before anyone noticed? After almost five years, all of the maids had noted John's strong resemblance to the princess, and no one would doubt that he was hers, but no one could note how or when she had had the child.
"I see you are going to wait for Friedrich to reveal the man," his face darkened with renewed anger. "But I warn you, Cordelia, after the man is revealed, you will be banished from this kingdom."
Cordelia's face blanched, but she simply lowered her head, resigned to the fact that her father would never believe her and was willing to send her far from him to what would likely be her death.
King Wilhelm bellowed an order into the library to Hans as he was the only servant there who could answer his summons.
Hans gently pushed John behind him. "Yes, my lord," he answered, bowing as well as his deformity would allow.
"Call the chief magician here at once."
"Yes, sire. At once," Hans responded, bowing again. He gestured to John with his eyes to wait in his corner of the library, and John scurried over to the steward's desk, trying to hide from the ire of the King.
King Wilhelm ignored the boy and walked back into the study, waiting to see what would be done about this matter of his impure daughter.