As the fanfare faded, the orchestra resumed its incidental music until the prince and the duchess reached the dance floor. Then a slow triple beat emerged from the orchestra’s lush harmonies.
Cinderella watched the prince dance with his aunt, hiding a smile. The harsh angles that typically lined the duchess’s mouth eased away, and Cinderella saw a trace of the cheerful, mischievous young duchess from the portrait gallery.
Then, as they danced, Genevieve whispered something in the prince’s ear. Cinderella flinched, having a strong feeling the duchess was telling him to forget “her.”
Tearing her gaze from the dance floor, Cinderella wove through the crowd to look for Louisa, but she didn’t see her friend by the buffet.
“Her relationship with the king was never a good one,” murmured a lady blocking Cinderella’s path, “but she was best friends with the queen. After Her Majesty passed away, she and King George had a terrible row and that was the end of that.”
“I heard it had to do with her husband. He was one of those ruffian intellectuals—even got himself in jail once, remember? The king had to create a new territory to knight him so it wouldn’t be so disgraceful for Genevieve to marry beneath her. You’d think she would have been more grateful.”
“Well, who knows what happened between them? It was all very hush-hush.”
“Married to that traitor, I would be, too! Maybe we’ll find out now that she’s back.”
The conversation flustered Cinderella. She didn’t know what bothered her more: their spiteful words about the duchess’s past, or their disdain that her husband had been a commoner.
Both, she decided, finally spying a way around the noblewomen.
Behind her, the prince’s dance with his aunt came to an end, and polite applause rolled across the room. Then, as soon as it was considered tasteful, every eligible lady in the ballroom pushed her way forward, batting her fan to get the prince’s attention.
Cinderella backed into a corner so the waves of eager young women wouldn’t trample her as they rushed forward. Jewels glittered and a mix of rich perfume and desperation filled the air. Every lady parading past the prince was attractive in her own way, be it a lovely face or a stunning gown. If the prince was looking for a new bride, he had hundreds to choose from.
Stop thinking about it. That’s not your concern anymore.
The problem was she didn’t see Louisa anywhere. She had started toward the back, where the buffet and a chocolate fountain awaited, when she noticed the Grand Duke had detached himself from the king’s side and was now speaking with a young woman wearing a tiara.
Who was he speaking to?
Before Cinderella could investigate further, three flamboyantly dressed women paraded across the ballroom. Though they wore masks, Cinderella would have recognized those auburn ringlets, those black curls, and that tight gray bun anywhere—but the familiar blue and green feathers, the blue-gray shroud, and the haughty, upturned noses only confirmed it. A tide of panic washed over her.
It was Lady Tremaine—and her daughters.
Blood rushed to her head as Cinderella ducked behind one of the ballroom’s towering flower arrangements. Only after the count of three did she dare glance back at her stepmother and stepsisters.
Good, they hadn’t seen her.
Catching her breath, she edged along the table and searched the area for Louisa.
She did say she’d be by the food, didn’t she? thought Cinderella, stepping back for a better view of the buffet. Her heel landed hard on someone’s shoe, and she spun around, horrified as the stranger let out a quiet gasp of pain.
“Oh, pardon me!” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry—”
The stranger’s mask slipped off, and Cinderella’s knees dipped instinctively into a crouch, her fingers reaching out to catch it before it fell. The string hooked over her thumb, and in triumph, she held out the mask to the stranger.
“Here—” she began.
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up. It was the prince!
He had changed his clothing in an apparent attempt to go incognito, doffing the ivory jacket with gold epaulets for a simple blue coat with bronze buttons. But she would have recognized that face in any outfit.
“Thank you kindly,” said Charles, also half crouched. He started to rise to take the mask from her, but she was so startled to see him that she dropped it, and this time it fell to the ground.
Her hand leapt to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she uttered quickly. “That was clumsy of me.”
Thankfully, the prince laughed. “I’ll get it. It seems to have a mind of its own.”
Prince Charles picked up his mask and pressed it against his face, quickly tying the string behind his head. Then, as he rose, he finally looked up and into her eyes—
And he let out a quiet gasp. “It’s you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. What should she say? What should she do? Her legs were frozen in their spot, and if not for the table behind her, she was afraid she would have stumbled over her own two feet.
“It’s you,” Prince Charles repeated in wonderment, his expression softening. He cleared his throat, a distinct rush of red coloring his ears as he realized he was staring at her. When he spoke again, his voice grew even gentler. “I thought I recognized your voice. I . . . I hoped I would see you again.”
Cinderella could have sworn the room was floating, and she with it. The glowing chandeliers swam around her, their lights blinking like stars.
He hadn’t forgotten her. He recognized her. And moreover, he seemed happy to see her.
Her lips parted. He was waiting for her to respond, but what could she possibly say? How could she explain why she’d left the other night, and why he hadn’t been able to find her?
He hasn’t asked you for an explanation, she chided herself.
“H-hello,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t hear how her heart hammered. The simple greeting instantly made his face brighten, and she wondered whether he could have possibly worried the same—that she had forgotten him.
“Hello,” returned the prince.
Before he could say more, a server appeared with a tray of fresh glasses. Charles gestured at it, and as he offered her a glass of water, his hand trembled slightly—the only sign that he was as nervous as she was. “Were you . . . thirsty?”
Cinderella smiled shyly. “No, thank you. I was just looking for someone. A friend.”
“A friend?”
“Yes. She came to the ball with me. But I think she might have made her way to the dance floor.”
Charles set the glass down. “Let me accompany you there to find her—and selfishly steal a dance for myself if I may.”
Yes, she wanted to say. She desperately wanted to dance with him, to talk with him, to get to know him better. And yet . . . the duchess’s words haunted her.
I think he’s in love with the idea of her.
Well, the same could be said of Cinderella, too, for what did she know of the prince?
Nothing. After one kiss, you were imagining yourself his bride. It’s a good thing the Grand Duke never asked you to try on the glass slipper. You would have fallen into a dream with a harsh awakening.
No good could come of their meeting. She was a servant in the palace, he the only heir to the throne of Aurelais. Maybe if she made an excuse to leave, she could run back to the servants’ quarters and pretend this had never happened.