Natural Selection

by Amanda Lance

  Emilia sighed before leaving the cookies in front of Andrew’s door. So Tut wouldn’t be having any company… but Emilia might have, as paper-thin walls couldn’t even begin to hold back her passion for Kasper.

  Chapter 11

  Paper Faces

  Before she even walked in, there were couples lingering outside of the castle and the sight of them had Emilia switching to her default position of feeling intimidated. Women with dresses—both lengthy and short—had decorated themselves with painted masks and large wigs, festive jewelry, and even flowers and plumage in their hair. Emilia paused to admire one woman who reminded her of a cardinal with a flowing red dress and feathered mask to match. Emilia looked down at herself. In any normal circumstances she might have thought she looked wonderful, but in front of all these women with their professionally styled hair and equally expensive jewelry, she felt off—like something inadequate and out of place.

  Since Bob and Elaine were taking the tickets at the door, Emilia left it and her bag behind, grateful to be rid of the cumbersome carry-ons and to have the opportunity to focus solely on what was going on around her. As additional cars pulled up in the parking lot, and the outdoor group looked like they were gathering to go back inside, Emilia hurried to get through the front doors and beat the impending crowds.

  Once past the front gate and safely in the lobby, Emilia rushed to greet Elaine as she struggled to get out of her chair.

  “Hello there!” Elaine practically surged excitement, both with her giddiness and her full-skirted flower-patterned dress. Emilia couldn’t help but return the gesture when her employer grabbed her in a fierce hug.

  “Hi!” she said, almost coughing on Elaine’s lily perfume. “So far, so good?”

  “So far, so great!” Bob said, answering for her. “You girls did a really wonderful job.”

  Dressed like a mad scientist in a suit and jacket, Bob shook the hands of another couple coming in and directed them to the ballroom.

  “Thanks.” She smiled and tried not to feel too awkward. “None of this could have happened without you and Sandra, though. You know that, right?”

  He waved her away, and before Emilia could say anything else, he was back to chatting with another group.

  “Paula and I will be announcing the silent auction winners at midnight, but we’ll probably make a speech before then.”

  “Okay.” Emilia nodded and said hello to an elderly couple dressed like something out of the Wild West. “You know I won’t be coming on stage, though…”

  “Even when we formally thank you?”

  She smiled and vaguely tried to push one of the fake vines back up through a tousle in Elaine’s hair. “Especially if you thank me, which you absolutely do not have to do. I had fun doing this, truth be told you probably wouldn’t have even had to pay me…”

  Elaine laughed and took the ticket of a woman in a zebra patterned dress. “Now you tell me!”

  She left them laughing and went inside. Because of liability reasons, Emilia and the rest of the committee had to let the banquet manager and hotel’s party planner decorate the ballroom without them. For all her worries, the ballroom was decorated as planned. Pink and purple mesh canopy surrounded the small chandeliers and Emilia was impressed by how well they ended up complimenting the black chair covers—how the play of light colors compared with the dark.

  Between the luscious costumes and décor, the entire place reminded her of a vintage carnival, and though she scolded herself for being a “tourist,” she wished she had a camera to take proper pictures. She shook her head and went to manage the silent auction table with Claudette. As she expected, Claudette looked radiant in the lacy black dress and Venetian mask. And if that wasn’t enough, she wore a large pink wig with fixed curls. Once again, Emilia looked down at herself and felt skeptical.

  “You look awesome!” she said, coming up behind her.

  “Hi! There you are, I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.”

  She shrugged. “Tut isn’t feeling well, remember? But don’t worry—” She stretched out the words for dramatic effect. “I wouldn’t abandon you.”

  Claudette rolled her eyes behind her mask. “Thank God, the crowds are starting to come in and those women over there are already battling for the spa package.”

  Emilia laughed and went to the other side of the booth to answer questions and greet the guests. Claudette was right, the turnout was just as great as they expected. Before long, people were practically shoving to check out the food and potential prizes.

  “Where did you get that dress, by the way?” Claudette half-yelled over the band and laughing crowds. “You look freaking amazing.”

  “Thanks!” She half-yelled back. “There is kind of a story behind it. I’ll have to tell you about it later.”

  “Ohhh! What kind of story?”

  She blushed furiously from underneath her mask. “The kind I can’t tell in public!”

  Claudette’s eyebrows went straight up. “That sounds like my kind of story.”

  The crowds came in slow but steady, and while she was busy answering questions and distributing the bid sheets, Emilia kept her eyes open for any signs of Kasper. Between the comments about exactly what kind of mulch was in the wheelbarrow gift set, women feuding over the spa package, and people trying to sneak a peek at the type of wine was in the vineyard gift basket, she and Claudette both had their hands full and it was easy to lose sight of everyone that came in and out of the ballroom. Would she know him right away, or would he be wearing something extravagant like some of the other gentlemen there? If anyone thought for a second that it was just the women who had put a lot of effort into their costumes, they were wrong. Dressing to match their dates, men wore Victorian-styled hats and boots while others carried plastic swords or even scepters. Every so often, Claudette would point out one of them in the crowd and ask if that was him and each time Emilia had to shake her head and let her excitement die down to function properly.

  The first hour passed quickly, and before she realized it, Emilia saw Sandra and Bob walking around—a modern day Marie and Pierre Curie, laughing and socializing with new friends. She spotted Paula a moment later, dressed as a peacock and dancing with someone she didn’t recognize, a jester in a full-skeleton mask.

  Once the novelty of the auction table began to wear off, guests took to the dance floor, taking their turns between watching the band and buffet table, the bar and the restroom. Emilia laughed, feeling a strange sense of privilege to be able to watch everyone unwind from afar—their playful states evolving into ones full of joy. Was that how Kasper had felt during the times he watched her? Like an omniscient creature observing the whims of others?

  “I think it’s safe to say we can go enjoy the party now.” Claudette pulled at the end of one of Emilia’s curls before quickly examining her own.

  “You go ahead,” Emilia said, daring to sit down and rest her feet. “I’ll stick around for a little while.”

  “Is your mystery date here yet?”

  Emilia glanced around. Between the laughing and intimate couples however, she didn’t spot a mask she recognized or even a familiar frame. She shook her head.

  “Well, make sure you come and sit with my boyfriend and me when you do find him,” she said, coming around from behind the table. “I’m dying to meet this guy.”

  She held up her thumb. “Will do.”

  Though most of the guests happily simmered at the bar and a few at the bidding table, Emilia remained, taking the time to explore her thoughts for the first time since the dressing room and the evening tryst that followed. Everyone looked so lively, so carefree—shouldn’t it have been easier to spot Kasper amongst these people, these happy, smiling people? With his intense scowl and bitter tongue, she was half surprised he hadn’t gotten into a fight with someone yet. Then again, what if the reason he hadn’t was because he wasn’t there at all? What if he decided not to come to the gala
just to spite her? To leave her hanging stag for the evening to get back at her for choosing Tut over him?

  The thought suddenly so consumed her that she became nervous, clicking her thumbnails and biting her lips as her eyes continued to search for him. She looked for him between the banquet tables and embracing couples, between posters of rescued dogs and waiters who readily offered champagne. When the third or fourth waitress offered her a glass, she happily accepted and sipped the bubbly liquid quickly—surprised at how good it tasted, at how much she enjoyed it. It seemed that all new things were possible, and Emilia smiled—trying new things was certainly working out to her advantage.

  ***

  He watched her from the moment she entered from the south lobby, her smiles all nervousness and excitement. And though he watched her, he was not the only one who admired her. For a moment he felt rage at the way men, young and old alike, tried to gaze down her dress when she retrieved pens for them, a flex of jealousy at the way the boys (more than one of them, he might add) in the crowd pointed her out and admired without shame.

  Not that he could blame them, mind you. In her feathered dress, her legs were shapely— nearly visible through the thin material. And the glistening bodice, he realized, was capable of opening up any imagination with the way it pushed her chest upwards. The blue of her eyes was brought out by the blue of the dress and he mused at the way her metallic gold mask matched the leafy pattern in her bodice—how it very nearly matched the golden shades in her hair. Like the moon, she cast a light on everything and everyone around her—something bright in the dark night. He smiled and considered how ironic it was, that she could look so much like a celestial being when she was a child of the sun. Did they see it the way he did—not just the beauty— but the beam that she gave off with every interaction?

  He continued to watch while she chatted with her silly witted friend, how she gradually began feeling easier as the minutes passed. And he worked extremely hard to ignore that feeling of competitiveness every time a boy asked her to dance or someone of the male persuasion asked her to join them for a drink. Instead, he focused on how her posture changed with each moment, the way she bit her lip and made it swell just slightly. He considered whether or not it was wise to interfere once she began with her first glass of champagne, but decided against it. Loving her from afar was extremely enjoyable, and it occurred to him if he was not unlike a hunter—stalking his prey and waiting for the perfect moment.

  Kasper did his best to remain in the mindset—staying as stealthy as possible and avoiding the dimwitted women she worked with. Admittedly, it was becoming gradually more difficult as more people talked amongst themselves, searching for the host of the evening. And even though he had fashioned a new mask—a disguise that even Emilia had never seen—he knew it would only be a matter of time before someone spotted him from the crowd, giving him more attention than he wanted. If he wanted his chance with her, he would have to take it soon.

  He made his way past the overweight woman with a painted face, the young ladies dressed far too little—even for his taste—and the men with top hats and the faces of animals and pirates. It appeared as if she hadn’t noticed him, even as she stood up and traded her empty champagne glass for another, wandering slowly to a table where no one else sat. How long would it be before another one of those boys asked her to dance, or tried to talk her up? Not long, certainly. Bearing this in mind, he approached her from behind, taking the time to notice how lovely her wavy hair was down the center of her back—how her bare shoulders practically begged to be kissed.

  “Are you entirely sure you want to drink that?”

  She jumped at the familiar voice in her ear, and from the corner of his eye he saw her smile. Just to be rebellious however, she did not turn to him and sipped again at her glass.

  “What have I told you about ordering for me?”

  “I am only looking out for your interest, I assure you. Champagne has a reputation for…well, giving young ladies a reputation.”

  Giggling, she put her glass down and turned to face him, clearly startled by the change in his appearance. While the wig he always wore and the prosthetics were present, Kasper wore a different mask tonight—one of black with tones of silver in it, making his face look unnaturally stern and stiff. And while he always dressed to the nines, this evening was exceptionally different since he wore a fine-fitted tuxedo and a caped hood that was lengthy, nearly ending at his heels.

  “Hello,” he managed.

  She remembered to tell herself to smile. “Hey.”

  “Y-you look—” He shook his head and tried again. “There are no words for how you look.”

  She blushed, grateful that the low lighting and mask concealed her redness. “Is that a good speechless or a bad one?”

  “Good.” he nodded vigorously. “Very, very good.” He stopped and fiddled with his thumbs. “Good is a poor word really, something more like ‘marvelous,’ ‘remarkable,’ ‘astonishing…”

  She laughed and pushed the brim of her mask up. “Thanks. You look good, too.”

  He glanced at the wall and smiled just enough so that she noticed. If it had been anyone else, the expression would have remained unseen. “That is without question the first time anyone has ever said that to me.”

  “Well…” Standing up, Emilia looked over her shoulder at a group of giggling women at the bar. She was almost sure they were staring at Kasper from behind. “By the looks of it, it won’t be the last time.”

  Kasper’s eyebrow went up and he followed her line of sight.

  “Laughing ninnies…” He sighed. “Very annoying.”

  “Annoying or not, it looks like you could have any one of those ninnies you wanted.”

  “Funny,” he said, giving a dangerous look to another huntsman with wandering eyes. “One could say the same about you.”

  “I suppose it’s a good thing we found each other, then.”

  He smiled, realizing that the differences of blue in her eyes were almost completely undetectable in this light. “It certainly is.”

  She removed a piece of imaginary lint from his jacket—any excuse she could find to touch him felt justified. “So, are you going to ask me to dance, or do I have to be the aggressive one?”

  “As much as I enjoy your—aggressive methods, I think it might not be in either of our best interests to explore that sport.”

  “Oh.” she felt her brow furrow. “Why not?”

  “Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the fact that I dislike any activity that brings attention to me?”

  Emilia smiled. “Maybe you aren’t familiar with how much I like to get my way?”

  “Ah.” He smiled. “So good then that you enjoy reminding me.”

  Smiling still, he offered her his arm and gazed down at her while she led them to the dance floor. It did occur to him however that once they got there, he would have to do the leading and a new flush of panic rushed him.

  “I should fairly warn you I lack the proper knowledge to do this.”

  His whisper in her ear made her shudder even in the air conditioned stone palace. She smiled and clutched him closer. “I didn’t know you lacked the knowledge for anything.”

  “Very amusing.”

  They separated slightly when they reached the wooden floor and he became abundantly grateful for the slow pacing of the music—how the piano player effortlessly seemed to take over the schematics of the room.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, interlacing the fingers of one of his hands with hers. “Dancing is as natural as anything else. As long as you know your body, you’ll be able to do it.”

  “And if I don’t know my body?” He smiled while she directed his other hand to the top of her hip.

  “Then you should know your partner’s body.” She smiled and began moving to the sound of the music.

  “Ha! Any man in this world would give their life for what I know.”

  Emilia laughed, bumping h
is foot with hers when he almost misstepped. “Are you trying to flatter me or you?”

  “Can it not be both?”

  “You better watch out,” she said, giggling. “At this rate I’ll end up as arrogant as you.”

  “And I as foolish as you?”

  Emilia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You wish!”

  Giggling, she leaned her forehead against his chest. If she had known how much she would blush tonight, she would have worn a more concealing mask.

  “You are such a dork.”

  “Is that—a complimentary title or an insulting one?” he mocked.

  “Good,” she said, glancing up into his eyes. “Coming from one dork to another, it is definitely good.”

  Kasper continued to smile, even letting his thumb brush up against the end of her hip when he thought no one was watching. They danced silently, ignoring the questioning glances from her colleagues and the tempo change of the music. After a short time however, her attention was stolen from him to the crowds around her. Masks turned and twisted as they moved. And she marveled at how similar the imaginary faces looked, the artificial features of everyone blending together and fading into a sea of color and light.

  “Kasper,” she asked suddenly, taking him from a trance of his own. “Is this more comfortable for you?”

  He allowed his chin to brush against the top of her head. “What do you mean?”

  “This environment,” she tried again. “Where everyone has a face that isn’t theirs…is it easier for you to be yourself?”

  He stiffened in her arms and she gripped him tighter, the fear of him slipping away quickly overwhelming her. The truth was however, that he hadn’t put a great deal of thought into it. Emilia was his sole purpose of the evening, his reason not just for going out, but for adventuring at all. Yet as he glanced around at all the faces in the room—some more obviously artificial than others—he considered that perhaps she had a point. Everything, from moving amongst the crowds to demonstrating his affection for Emilia was so much more uncomplicated when make-believe was the theme of the room.