The Amaranth Enchantment

by Julie Berry

  We handed Poke our trenchers as we passed by. His fowl spits were nearly bare.

  “A good night, eh, Poke?” Peter said.

  He hustled me through the crowd, which had grown more dense and boisterous.

  Suddenly everyone seemed to be a large, loud man with a foaming mug in his hand, a bawdy song on his lips, and a feathered female on his arm.

  My heart thumped and my insides felt like jelly. Lucinda Chapdelaine, what has come over you?

  “Are you sure this is going to work?” I asked. “I’ve paid a lot for this training. I don’t think I got enough practice.”

  “Too much practice makes you rigid,” he said. “I work by instinct. Quick mind, quick eye, quick fingers. It’s a way of thinking.”

  “I’m not used to that way of thinking,” I grumbled.

  Peter stopped and faced me severely. “If you want this stone bad enough, you’ll muster the right thinking whether you’re used to it or not.”

  I nodded. He was right.

  “Cheer up,” he said, pressing forward once more. “If you’re successful, I might let you work with me.” He pointed through the throng. “Look. There he is.”

  Chapter 15

  Unmistakably, there he was.

  We were near the pavilion where the orchestra had played earlier that day. A group of gypsy musicians now occupied the stage, their music as wild and haunting as the other music had been ordered and smooth. There was still dancing going on, but not the gavotte. Women whirled, colored scarves trailing behind them like flaming serpents. Others clapped tambourines. Men stomped and clapped and shouted over the music.

  The prince stood by a table loaded with food and drink, talking with a group of guards. At the sight of them my confidence, if I had any, drained away.

  Gregor set his plate down on the table and dropped it, splattering a guard with sauce. The others shouted with laughter.

  Peter crouched behind me, his breath tickling my ear. “He makes quite a figure, doesn’t he?” he asked maliciously. “I can’t go any closer than this. We can’t have him see me. I’ll be over there”—he indicated an abandoned stall some distance behind where we stood—”trying to keep your goat away from you. That’s a bonus, by the way, for which I could charge extra. Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you.”

  My rising panic reached a crest. I spun around and clutched his sleeve.

  “Peter, I can’t do this,” I said.

  He looked me straight in the eye. I found it hard to match his gaze.

  “It’s no skin off my nose whether you do or don’t,” he said. He patted his jingling pocket, swollen with Beryl’s gold, then tapped my forehead sharply with his pointer finger. “But I say that you can. And you will.” He smiled at me.

  “You’ll be watching, won’t you?” I asked.

  “Promise.”

  Only slightly relieved, I turned back for a glance at the prince, who was laughing with a guard.

  His face sent a stab of longing through me.

  I turned back to look at Peter, but he was already gone. I scanned around for him, or even for Dog, but saw no trace of either of them.

  What’s a thief’s promise worth, anyway?

  If I succeeded, Peter would get the rest of my gold. Or perhaps he’d simply slip away, content with half. It was enough to make him a wealthy man, not to mention whatever price he’d gotten from Prince Gregor. Why did he dress so raggedly, and live on the streets? By what he’d collected in only a few days, he ought to live in comfort in an elegant townhouse.

  One of Gregor’s guards gestured toward a carriage. He might leave soon. By the looks of things, I didn’t have long to try my new dramatic skills upon him.

  Now or never. And if never, what would become of me? I took a first fearful step.

  I felt naked without Peter. Each step forward was an effort. I cut a swath of silence through the chaos, as conversations stopped and white eyes stared from bearded faces at the unescorted young gentlewoman (if only they knew!) on the city streets after dark at the festival. Their curiosity mingled with contempt. They formed an impenetrable wall around me.

  Suddenly reaching the prince felt like my best option. He was the one person I knew in this wild assembly—if our acquaintance could be called “knowing.” I fixed my eyes on his face and hurried forward.

  And then, I was only a few feet away, and he turned and saw me, which was more frightening then facing the flock of wolves I’d just passed through. And now there was no turning back.

  At the sight of me, he smiled, and I turned to jelly all over again. Pick his pocket? Was I mad?

  “Miss Peters,” he said, bowing.

  He remembered my name! My un-name, that is.

  His guards didn’t bow, but their eyes took me in appraisingly.

  “Can I assist you, Miss Peters?” Prince Gregor said, all politeness.

  How many guards were there? A hundred? Half a dozen, to be sure, but all of them staring at me.

  And Gregor, waiting for an answer. I had none to give him.

  Got to get closer to him, away from these guards. Music. Gypsy music.

  “Dance!” I blurted.

  Oh, help.

  I thrust my chin out defiantly. “I came to dance.”

  A ripple of laughter passed through his guards. They winked at each other, and the nearest one elbowed Prince Gregor.

  “I’ll dance with her for you, Your Highness,” he said. “Save you for the princess, eh?”

  The night air was sharp, cold as the grave, but my cheeks burned.

  I was trapped.

  Gregor’s expression was puzzled, but he offered me his hand. “That’s all right, Rolf,” he told the guard. “This lady is an acquaintance of mine. I claim the honor.”

  There was more laughing and waggling of eyebrows among the guards, but Gregor led me away from them. Whispers followed us.

  Gregor’s guards weren’t the only ones amused by my audacity.

  “Don’t mind them,” Gregor said. “It’s just that no one’s ever done that before.”

  I looked sidelong at him, searching for a bulge near his breast pocket. “Done what?”

  He grinned. “Asked me to dance.”

  “Nonsense,” I said. “Every girl in the kingdom is desperate to dance with you.”

  He stood opposite me, offering me his arms. “Shall we?” I put my hands in his.

  “The other girls, Miss Peters, I regret to say, have been taught they must wait to be asked.”

  Oh. All the blood drained from my face. I tried to follow Gregor’s steps, despairing. All the while, his pockets were a full arm’s length away.

  “I didn’t have time to wait,” I said.

  “How lucky for me,” was his enigmatic reply. The corners of his mouth twitched. I studied his face, trying to determine whether he was mocking me.

  Well, of course he was mocking me, but with good humor or not, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t dare look too often at his face, lest I lose my head completely.

  The gypsy music forced upon us a lively dancing pace that Gregor negotiated easily, but it left my petticoats in a tangle and put me at risk of toppling.

  I watched his feet, then looked down at my own, but they were lost in a sea of skirts. Whenever I glanced at Gregor, there was that suppressed laughter again. Curse his pampered hide, not everyone had spent a lifetime in lessons!

  How’s a girl to pick a dancing prince’s pocket when she can’t even match his steps?

  “You’re no help,” I said, too vexed to care whether or not he knew it. “Teach me!”

  “First a dance, and now a lesson,” he said. “You’re a demanding creature, Miss Peters. Will there be anything else, while I’m at it? An invitation to dinner?”

  “It’s too late for dinner,” I snapped. “All I need is one dance, with you.”

  Too late, I realized how brazen this sounded. I scrambled to save myself.

  “After this, I won’t trouble you anymore.”


  Gregor raised my arm high and twirled me around. “That,” he said, “would be unfortunate.” Then he altered the dance. His arm went behind my waist, and my other hand, now free, had nowhere to rest but on his shoulder. I leaned my head back and watched the constellations revolve overhead till they blurred together. My whole body tingled with heat and shock at this frightening, dreamlike sensation of dancing close to a painfully beautiful young man. Who was gazing down at me.

  Then he stopped. A thought seemed to strike him. “Has someone put you up to this, Miss Peters? Is this a wager, or a joke?”

  My conscience stung me. I remembered my bargain with Peter. Not quite a wager, but nearly.

  “No,” I said. “No wager. No joke.”

  Gregor rejoined the music, taking a grave hop-step to one side and then back to me. “Then what reason could you have,” he mused, “for insisting upon a dance?”

  Did he want me to say it was because he was handsome? I’d not give him that satisfaction. “Perhaps I’m a foreign spy, sent to observe the prince,” I said.

  Gregor’s eyes sparkled. “Or,” he said, “perhaps you’re a common thief, come to pick my pockets.”

  I laughed, rather too shrilly, avoiding his eyes. My skin went slick with guilty sweat. “You’ve found me out.”

  Gregor flashed his magic smile, then pinned me with his sober gaze once more.

  “Why did you ask me to dance tonight?”

  I had run out of lies. “Because,” I said, my heart pounding, “tomorrow night would be too late.”

  I didn’t dare look at him. Then, I couldn’t help it. He was so close, the tip of his nose brushed mine. His breath was warm on my cheek. His eyes…

  He caught himself suddenly, stiffened, pulled away. “Pardon me. I… I was trying to hear you better. The noise… But I’m neglecting your dancing lesson! Er, the name of this step is the pas cabriolé, and it’s done by…”

  He taught me until I’d done a passable pas cabriolé, a capering sort of step.

  “Excellent!” he cried after a dismal attempt or two. I smiled back. He squeezed my hand. “Tomorrow’s not too late for a dancing lesson. Come to the ball. We can continue our lessons there.”

  He wanted to see me again.

  At the palace ball.

  It was a lovely dream, but… “Prince Gregor,” I said, standing stock-still, “I can’t. Tomorrow night is for the princess.”

  He seemed to lose an inch in height, but his grip on my waist tightened. “All the same,” he said. “Come. Please.”

  I stalled for a clever reply. “I don’t know if I’m interested in such dull company as the palace ball.”

  I felt, more than heard, the laughter in his chest. Suddenly I remembered my errand. This close, could I get my hand inside his pocket without him noticing? Maybe. But the music lulled me. Why risk it and wreck this moment?

  The stone wasn’t going anywhere.

  The song ended, and another began, slow and melancholy. I waited, breathless, for him to end our dancing, but before I’d heard two bars of the new tune, both of Gregor’s arms were around me. I could feel his pulse in his jaw as he pressed his face next to mine.

  “Thank you for demanding a dance, Miss Angelica Peters,” he said in my ear. “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself more.”

  My body pounded inside its skin, like a windup toy in a box. The bristles on his chin scraped against my cheek. I breathed in once more the scent of his cologne, and mint, and the fur trim on his coat. My eyes blurred. Swinging lanterns became dancing stars. The cold air melted into delicious heat.

  We danced.

  Somewhere in that song, I crossed a line in the sand. There would be no turning back. The thought of this night ending, the musicians packing up and going home to bed, taking with them my excuse to dance with Gregor, was more awful than I could bear. What did cold stones matter on a night like this?

  Dear one, I cannot do to you the deed I intended to. For the gift of this moment, I will let you keep my only chance to be the somebody you suppose I am.

  I will not steal the stone.

  Drunk with longing, I wanted to give him something, a token of truth to remember me by.

  “Call me… Lucinda, please,” I said, suddenly shy. “It’s the name my mother used for me.” The only name she ever used for me.

  “Lucinda,” he said, experimentally. “Lucinda. Yes. It suits you.”

  Why did I feel more a liar than before? “I prefer it over Angelica,” I said.

  “So do I.”

  I shivered again, and Gregor stopped dancing, looking at me with concern. He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over my shoulders.

  “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll get you some punch.”

  I slid my arms inside the coat, feeling his warmth all over it. I watched his shirted back as he pressed toward one of the bonfires, where a brazier of hot wine simmered in the coals. The fire glowed around the edges of his shape, like a halo.

  I buried my face in his ermine fur collar and tried to breathe in some of the happiness hanging like stardust in the air.

  My fingers pulled the lapels tightly around me, and as they did, I felt a heavy lump in the inner pocket. Beryl’s stone.

  ***

  I can’t do this to him!

  He’d handed me the chance. He’d never know. In spite of the onlookers, no one would see my hand slip out from under his jacket with a gem clenched in my fist.

  I’d sworn to myself that I would not do it, but fate had intervened. Perhaps the stone itself, imbued with Beryl’s power, intended to return to its owner.

  Perhaps when I resumed my rightful place in society I could restore to Gregor the loss I was now imposing upon him. Perhaps we could remain friends. Perhaps he’d need a friend who made him laugh.

  Perhaps my life would be unendurable if I could never see Gregor again.

  And I surely never would, with neither a home nor a penny to my name.

  He was coming back, friendly concern for me written across his face. Under the cover of his coat, my fingers dug inside the pocket and pulled up the stone. I clenched it in my fist just as Gregor reached my side.

  “Drink this,” he said, handing me a steaming cup. I took it with my remaining hand and sipped too quickly, burning my lips.

  “Careful,” he said.

  He raised his glass. “To Miss Peters—to Lucinda—may she live long and healthy, and may she dance with me again soon.”

  He watched my face nervously. My guilt swelled with each heartbeat, but somehow, I smiled back at him. He grinned back, relieved, and drank from his cup. Then he bent forward and swiftly kissed my cheek. The soft, damp touch lingered long after his lips were gone.

  Beryl’s stone burned in my hand. Thief! He kisses you, and you’re robbing him?

  Murmurs and laughs around us showed that others had seen him kiss me. He put his arm around me as if defying the crowd. He might defy them, but I wanted away from all those staring eyes.

  “I’d better go,” I said. “Thank you for the dancing lesson. And for your coat.” I slid my arms out, clutching my fist tightly so he couldn’t see what it held.

  “Wait! Don’t go yet,” he said, reluctant to take back his coat.

  I had to flee, and yet, I couldn’t leave without him knowing. I pushed the coat toward him, stood on tiptoe, heedless now of the whistles and jeers around me.

  I heard the swift intake of his breath as my lips brushed his cheek.

  “Good-bye,” I whispered in his ear.

  He clutched my arm. “Wait! Where do you live? How can I find you, send you a message?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rolf approaching, worry written upon his face. Did Gregor’s guards feel they should protect the prince from foolish love affairs, too?

  “Thank you for tonight,” I said. “I’ll always remember it. But you don’t need to find me. You know that.”

  “Your Highness,” Rolf said, now standing beside Gregor, “it’s time for us t
o go.”

  At the sight of his guard, Gregor deflated. He sighed.

  “Rolf, do you remember meeting Miss Peters before?” Gregor asked. “Because I could swear I have, before today. And you’re always there wherever I go, like a dratted nuisance, so if I’d seen her, you would have too.”

  Rolf took a long sideways look at me, and shook his head. “Can’t say I have ever seen her, Highness.”

  I curtsyed to Gregor. “Thank you for the dance,” I said. “I am most honored.”

  “The honor is all mine,” Gregor said bitterly. “Come to the ball?” Rolf’s eyes darted toward the prince’s face.

  It was time to go. No sense prolonging the moment, and no wish to, with Rolf’s eyes on me. I squeezed Beryl’s gem until my fingers ached. Now was the time to flee.

  “Good evening, sirs,” I said, curtsying once more. I turned to go, taking the first step toward success and freedom. Why, then, was it so hard to leave?

  Yet with each step my confidence swelled, my spirits rose. I’d done it! I’d danced with him, I’d kissed him, and he me. He loved me, if only for a moment, and on top of all that, I’d gotten Beryl’s gem back! There must have been an enchantment in the air tonight. Some star had smiled kindly upon me.

  I quickened my steps. The flock of wolves held no terror for me now. Not while Gregor cared for me. Impossible, unbelievable miracle, beyond explanation, but true! He cared for me. I could have flown home.

  I searched for Peter’s face. Still no sight of him. Gladly, gladly would I give him Beryl’s gold now. And we would celebrate!

  There he was, watching for me. I shook a triumphant fist in the air, and he grinned. I quickened my steps and ran toward him. Good old Peter, that scalawag, no liar was ever a truer friend. And all the strangers in the crowd—marvelous people! I loved them, too. Love was everywhere tonight. It flowed through me with plenty to spare for everyone. Gregor had kissed me! I could still feel the mark. I could feel how his whiskers had tickled my lips when I kissed him back.

  A whistle pierced the darkness.

  “Stop!” a deep voice roared. “Stop in the name of the king!”

  I paused, looking around, wondering what had happened. A fight, perhaps?

  “Thief!” a woman’s voice cried. “Thief!”