by Lee Bacon
As the Sorceress describes her plan, the fear slowly fades from the grand duke’s face. He’s no longer staring at the dead man on the floor. Instead, his eyes are trained on the shadow in front of him. A faint grin tugs at his lips.
“At last,” he whispers. “I will have the power I deserve.”
“We,” corrects the Sorceress in a stern voice. “We will have the power we deserve.”
The grand duke nods quickly. His expression is a mix of terror and awe and ambition. “Of course. We. Without a doubt.”
The shadow crosses the room in the blink of an eye. A flicker of darkness that flows across the rug and returns to a human shape in the doorway.
“Now come along,” she says. “We have work to do.”
Where in the seven moons is Kara?
I continue searching the crowded dance floor, the rows of tables, the marble balconies overlooking the ballroom. Still no sign of her. I’m on my way to the main doors when I’m suddenly met by Francesca.
As I observe her glowing smile, her luxurious gown, her perfect hair, I’m strangely reminded of something I encountered in Kara’s world. A television. A device that flashes and sparkles with such remarkable radiance that you can barely look away. And yet, when you glance behind the screen, there’s only emptiness.
A breathtaking surface, with nothing behind it. That’s what I see when I look at Francesca.
“Your Highness!” Francesca dips into a curtsey. “You look spectacular this evening.”
“As do you, Countess,” I reply quickly. “Do you…uh—happen to know where Kara is?”
Francesca’s head tilts. “Who?”
“Kara. You accompanied her to the Grand Drawing Room earlier. To get ready for the ball.”
“Oh, the girl from Stonk!”
“Precisely. She was supposed to be here, but I can’t seem to find her.”
“Really? How odd.” Francesca takes a sip from her silver goblet. “She came with us to the drawing room. But when we left for the ball, she stayed behind. Said she wanted to make sure her gown was absolutely perfect.”
“Kara said that?”
Francesca nods. “Perhaps she got lost trying to find her way. The palace hallways can be confusing. Especially for someone so far outside her natural element.”
I can imagine Kara getting lost in the palace. But spending extra time getting fitted for a ball gown? Highly unlikely. Not that Francesca seems concerned. She glides closer to me. Her slender hand grazes my arm.
“It’s very noble of you to devote such attention to one plain little girl,” she whispers into my ear. “But you mustn’t let it ruin your night. After all, you are the Royal Prince. The Luminary Ball is in honor of your family. You should socialize, enjoy yourself, dance.”
Francesca’s fingers slide down my arm and take hold of my hand.
“And speaking of dancing—”
Before she can continue, a new voice joins our conversation.
“The two of you make an enchanting couple.”
Grand Duke Sturmenburg looms over us. His long fingers are decorated with more diamonds than I can count. In each hand, he holds a goblet. One gold, one silver.
I start to tell Sturmenburg that Francesca and I aren’t a couple, but her response comes quicker.
“Thank you!” she chirps.
“This Luminary Ball is a most magnificent occasion.” The grand duke takes a moment to admire the vast room, the joyous crowds. Then his gaze returns to us. “There is only one thing missing.”
“And what might that be?” I ask.
“Isn’t it obvious?” A smile pulls at his thin lips. “You have nothing to drink, Your Highness.”
“Why, goodness! He’s right!” Judging by the look on Francesca’s face, you’d think I was missing a finger, not a drink. “Allow me to fetch a servant at once!”
“That won’t be necessary,” the grand duke says. “I happen to have an extra cup of sparkling honeydrop.”
He bends forward, extending the golden goblet.
I wave away the offer. “Many thanks, but I was actually looking for—”
“Surely it can wait.” The grand duke’s voice is friendly but insistent. “At least long enough for a toast.”
“Wonderful idea!” Francesca raises her own goblet. “What shall we toast to?”
“To the Royal Family,” the grand duke suggests. “May your reign last another thousand years.”
Francesca’s goblet rises higher. “To the Royal Family!”
The two of them are staring at me with expectant smiles. The goblet presses closer to me. Golden liquid swirls inside the golden cup. If a toast is what it takes to get me out of this conversation, then so be it.
With a sigh, I grab the cup. As it leaves the grand duke’s long fingers, a strange fire blazes behind his pale eyes. A jumbled blur of music and festivities surrounds us, but his gaze never leaves me. Waiting, watching.
“Cheers.”
I raise the goblet and press it to my lips.
I’m running as fast as I can. I just don’t know if it’s fast enough. It doesn’t help that I have no idea where I’m going. This palace is an enormous labyrinth of fancy hallways. The Luminary Ball must be going on around here somewhere, but it’s not like I can search for it on Google Maps.
With each footstep, my memory cycles through a twisted playlist of the encounter I just witnessed. The shadow rising, becoming the Sorceress. Hudd’s gruesome death. And that strange, foreign word. Malinwrought. An untraceable poison. Anyone who drinks it will be dead within three days.
The grand duke plans to slip the poison into the drinks of Prince Fred and his parents.
I have to get to them before that happens. I have to warn them.
But first, I have to find them.
At the top of a stairway, I come across a guard leaning on his spear.
“Excuse me, sir.” I pause, huffing to catch my breath. “Do you know where the Luminary Ball is?”
The guard’s forehead wrinkles as he examines me. His eyes narrow at my simple dress. My scuffed knees. My ash-stained slippers.
“How’d you get up here?” he asks.
“I…I was invited. By Prince Fred.”
“You mean Prince Frederick? His Royal Highness?”
I wince at my own mistake. But there’s no backing down now. “Of course, yeah. I mean—yes, sir.”
The guard’s grip on his spear tightens. “The commander warned us to be on high alert for any commoners trying to sneak into the Luminary Ball. I don’t know how you got all the way up here, but you won’t be going anywhere near the Royal Family.”
The guard stalks toward me. The shaft of his spear clangs against the floor with every step. But then he freezes at the sound of a voice.
“Please step aside, guard. Can’t you see the girl’s late enough as it is?”
I whirl sideways, but nobody’s there. Then my gaze drops to the floor. And that’s when I see the cat. Gray and black fur, white paws, and wide hazel eyes peering up at me.
If the guard is surprised by the talking cat, he does a good job of hiding it.
“Xyler?” he says. “You know this girl?”
The cat nods. And when he opens his mouth, he speaks in a crisp, formal voice. “Indeed I do. She’s a personal guest of the prince. And I doubt he would approve of your intimidating her.”
I don’t know what’s weirder. That I’m witnessing a conversation between a palace guard and a cat, or that the cat seems to know who I am.
“Many apologies,” the guard mumbles. “I thought—”
“You thought what?” interrupts the cat named Xyler. “That an unarmed girl poses a grave threat to the kingdom? That you have the right to personally harass distinguished visitors?”
“Of course not. It’s just…the way she’s dressed—”
“Oh, so now you’re a fashion expert?” Xyler’s tail waves angrily back and forth. “If you don’t step aside this second, I’ll have no choice but to
mention this incident to the Royal Family.”
The guard nearly drops his spear in his hurry to stagger backward.
“That’s better.” Xyler struts proudly past him. Along the way, he tosses a glance back at me. “Come along, Kara.”
For a moment, I can only stand there like my feet have been superglued to the floor. Then I stumble after him. Once we’re far enough away from the guard, I turn a baffled glance in the cat’s direction.
“How do you know my name?” I ask.
“Prince Frederick sent me to find you,” the cat replies without slowing down. “I’ve been searching the palace for hours. Then I noticed your scent.”
My face reddens as I sniff my armpit. “My scent?”
“You smell like Earth.” The cat has the same weird pronunciation of the word “Earth” as Prince Fred. Like it’s spelled Urth. “It’s a smell I’ve encountered before.”
“Wait, really? When?”
“That’s a story for another time.”
“You’re right.” My voice quavers with urgency. “Can you take me to the Luminary Ball? I need to speak with the prince right away!”
Xyler’s eyes flick up at me. “I understand you’re eager to attend the party, but that guard was right. You do look out of place. Why don’t I take you to get a new gown? Something more suited to the occasion. And afterward, we’ll have your hair properly groomed. Maybe do something about those nails while we’re at it.”
“I don’t have time for a makeover! The prince is in danger.”
The cat stops suddenly. “What kind of danger?”
As quickly as I can, I tell him what I witnessed on the balcony. By the time I’m through, the fur is standing up along Xyler’s back.
“I never trusted Sturmenburg,” he murmurs. “In that case, we have no time to spare. Fortunately, I know a shortcut to the ballroom.”
The cat breaks into a run. I race to follow him. Through a room of mirrors. Down a flight of stairs. Along a hall that’s decorated with gold-framed paintings of grumpy-looking men and women. They stare out of their canvases with grim expressions, as if they know something bad’s about to happen.
Rounding a corner, I catch sight of an arched doorway. Xyler points one white paw. “That’s the mezzanine entrance to the Luminary Ball. From there we’ll have a better view.”
I push through the door. And all of a sudden, my senses are overwhelmed by a dizzying array of lights and music and people. For a long moment, all I can do is stare openmouthed at the vast room. The dance floor is the size of a football field. Every inch is crammed with partiers of all different types. People, elves, dwarfs, fauns. They mingle and dance with each other, while an orchestra plays in the background. Although it’s not like any orchestra I’ve ever seen. Half the instruments seem to be playing themselves.
I flinch when a swarm of fireflies darts in front of my vision. Blinking, I realize they aren’t fireflies at all. They’re fairies. Tiny glowing creatures buzzing through the air on flapping wings. There are at least ten of them, holding a serving tray above them.
“Would you care for a gingerflake, madam?” one of them asks.
“Uh…no thanks,” I reply.
The serving tray drifts off, and my attention returns to the dance floor. I examine the crowd for a long moment before I see him. Prince Fred. He’s standing near the edge of the dance floor. And he’s talking with Francesca. After the whole balcony stunt, I should be infuriated by the sight of that psycho snob. But as long as Fred’s not hanging out with the grand duke, I’m relieved.
Xyler’s perched on the mezzanine railing beside me. He points to an elegant couple below us. A blue-eyed man who looks like an older version of Prince Fred and a beautiful woman with long, blond hair. They’re each wearing a crown. I don’t need Xyler to tell me who they are.
Prince Fred’s parents. The king and queen.
And they’re on the opposite end of the ballroom from the prince.
“It’s best if we split up,” I say. “We’ll get to each of them faster.”
“Premium idea,” the cat replies. “You warn Prince Frederick. I’ll notify the king and queen.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Xyler and I race off in opposite directions. I push through the crowd, squeezing between clumps of elegantly dressed guests. Before long, I run into a group of dwarfs. They’re waiting in the buffet line.
“Sorry! Coming through!” I have to yell to be heard over the blare of music and voices. Meanwhile, the cluster of stout men and women are seriously loading up on the snacks. “Do you mind if I just squeeze past…? No, I don’t want a turkey leg….Yes, I’m sure it’s delicious, but I can’t right now.”
At last, I stagger into an opening wide enough to gain a glimpse of Prince Fred. But as soon as I see him, my heart plummets. The grand duke got to him first. The tall, hunched man is locked in conversation with Fred and Francesca. He’s holding a goblet in each hand. One’s silver; the other’s gold.
The Malinwrought must be in one of those cups. I have to get to the prince before he drinks it.
I elbow my way through the clumps of people and fantasy figures. A woman drops her plate. A green-skinned dude growls at me in a language I’ve never heard before. But I keep moving. There’s no time to worry about upsetting the partiers. Not while Prince Fred’s on the verge of being poisoned.
Staggering through an opening in the crowd, I catch sight of the prince again. And the moment I see him, a blade of terror cuts through me.
The grand duke has just handed him the golden goblet. Prince Fred raises the cup and presses it to his lips.
I’m about to take a drink when a bumbling oaf charges into me, knocking the goblet out of my hands and spilling my sparkling honeydrop everywhere. I spin around and realize the bumbling oaf is…
Kara?
Finally, she’s here. But where has she been? And why did she announce her arrival by running full speed into the Royal Prince in front of a few hundred shocked guests. A gasp goes up throughout the ballroom. The orchestra screeches to a halt. Francesca lets out an outraged “Eeep!” But the person who seems the most upset is the grand duke. His pale eyes flicker back and forth between Kara and the spilled drink. A look of cold rage fills his features.
“You idiot!” he screams at Kara. “What in the seven moons do you think you’re doing?”
“Mind your tongue!” My voice comes out harsher than I’d intended. I inhale a deep breath and continue in an even tone. “I’m sure it was an accident.”
“But, Your Highness…” Sturmenburg can’t seem to take his eyes off the spilled drink. “The girl attacked you. We all saw it. She is guilty of treason—”
“Nonsense. That was hardly an attack, Sturmenburg. This is a crowded ballroom. I’m sure she merely lost her footing. Isn’t that right, Kara?”
I turn to her. She looks frantic, out of breath. She nods once.
“See?” My attention shifts back to the grand duke. “An innocent mistake. Besides, it’s only a little spilled honeydrop. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
Sturmenburg’s gaze hangs on the golden goblet lying sideways on the floor. The edge of his mouth twists with fury.
“Many apologies,” he grumbles unapologetically. “I was merely concerned. For your safety.”
“And I appreciate that. But I am perfectly safe. You needn’t worry.” I raise my voice so the crowd of onlookers can hear. “And neither should all of you. This is the Luminary Ball. Back to the celebration!”
And with that, the orchestra strikes up another tune. People return to their dancing and conversation. Crisis averted.
Except Sturmenburg is still obviously upset. And he’s not the only one. Francesca is glaring at the newest arrival as though a troll just wandered onto the dance floor.
“How lovely it is to see you again, Kira,” she says, even though there’s nothing lovely in her tone. Every syllable is muttered through gritted teeth. “I’m so glad you could finally make it.”
“No thanks to you,” Kara mutters. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Prince Frederick. Alone.”
Francesca scowls. But it’s the grand duke who looks especially outraged. His free hand hovers over his diamond-studded belt, where a diamond-studded dagger is clasped within a diamond-studded sheath.
“And what is it that you’d like to say to His Royal Highness?” he asks coldly.
“I was just wondering…”
Kara’s eyes dart around the crowded ballroom. Then she takes a steadying breath. Straightening her shoulders, she holds out her hand.
“Your Highness,” she says, “would you care to dance?”
The last thing I want to do right now is bust a move on the dance floor. But it was the only excuse I could come up with. The only way to get some distance from Francesca and the grand duke.
Prince Fred stares at me a long, uncertain moment. I’m sure he has a million reasons to think I’ve lost my mind. I just barreled into him. I spilled his drink. I probably look like a lunatic.
Francesca isn’t even trying to hide her angry sneer.
The grand duke’s long fingers inch closer to his diamond-covered dagger.
Then Prince Fred takes my hand and leads me away. Francesca and the grand duke simmer with fury, but there’s nothing they can do to me. Not with so many people around. Not while I’m so close to the prince.
As Fred guides me away, the crowd parts to give us room. I can feel hundreds of eyes following our every movement. Until now, I was always too nervous to even talk to guys at school dances. Now here I am, holding hands with the most popular boy in the world.
Literally.
Once we’re a safe distance from Francesca and the grand duke, Fred clasps my hand tighter. His arm wraps around me and his fingers settle onto my lower back. The orchestra launches into a new song and his feet begin to move gracefully with the music.
Forward. Forward. Back. Twirl.
He obviously knows what he’s doing. I don’t. All I can do is shuffle along, trying my best to avoid tripping over my own feet. Or his. And maybe it’s the swell of music, or the fairies drifting above us, or my own galloping heart…but all of a sudden I feel caught up in the moment. Our hands touching. Our bodies close. Fred’s eyes locked on me as he spins me around the ballroom floor. For a flickering instant, it’s as if we’re just two kids sharing our first dance.
