by Nikki Steele
Richards looked to his wife. She nodded, then took me by the shoulders, kissing me on both cheeks. “It’s time,” she said. “How do you say it in America? Go get your man.”
“Thank you so much Mara. You’ve been so good to me.” I’d only been here a short while, but already Mara and Richards felt like family. I fanned my face, blinking to fight back tears, and we both laughed—the makeup had just gone on, I couldn’t mess it up yet!
She reached into the white dress box and pulled out one final item—a beautiful peacock mask, in colors to match the dress. It had a long, fine ebony handle which I could hold before my face. “So you are not recognized, until you wish to be,” she said, tears glinting in her eyes. She kissed me on both cheeks again, and then smiled.
I expected Richards to lead me to the front door, but instead he led me down curving stairs to the cellar. Baxter scooted on ahead, familiar with the territory.
The walls of the cellar were made from stone of all different sizes, pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle. They were lined with dark, mahogany shelving, and these, in turn, were lined with row upon row of expensive looking wine bottles.
It was beautiful; built into the rock beneath the house, cool and dark and dry. But it wasn’t the way to the castle. “Are we taking a bottle of wine to the Ball?” I asked, confused. Maybe we were going to bribe the guards with it. Perhaps we were driving to the castle, and then sneaking in via a side door when we gave one to a guard.
Richards laughed. “Not exactly.” He moved to an old wrought iron candle sconce set against the far wall. But instead of lighting it, he twisted it sideways. I heard a click. Baxter’s ears perked up from where he’d been sniffing at a wall, then he began to growl. The wall swung forward slightly. I frowned, moving to him, then pulled on the section. It swung toward me, revealing a long, straight tunnel constructed of the same stone as the cellar.
I turned to Richards. He grinned, pulling two torches from a shelf. “I told you this house has been here since the castle was built. There’s good reason it’s the Royal Steward’s residence.”
“This goes all the way to the castle?”
He nodded. “It was built for escape. But we’re going to use it to get in.”
* * *
The tunnel was long, with a gentle curve that circumvented the lake outside town. Baxter ranged ahead, sniffing at the edge of the light until unexpectedly, he gave a yap that echoed back at us and he ran ahead into the darkness. We found him waiting at an area where the tunnel widened slightly. An alcove was cut into one side, with an iron roof, walls and floor.
Richards motioned me to step inside, then after calling Baxter in too, he slid a wire cage across the front. It clicked in place.
We were in an old mining elevator. “It may seem clunky,” he said with a grin, as the cage shook then began to move, “but it was a rope and pulley system before my grandfather oversaw the upgrade.”
I nodded, tight lipped, then pulled Baxter into my arms. He gave my chin a lick. I’d been okay in the tunnel, but as we vibrated our way upward I was reminded of the many Tons of rock there were above us. I closed my eyes. And how far I now had to fall.
* * *
I stepped out, surprisingly, into the gardens at the back of the castle—the elevator had been built into the thick wall surrounding them. I looked back when Richards didn’t follow. He must have seen the look on my face, because he smiled in encouragement. “This is as far as I go. But you’re going to be just fine. Go get your man.” He pulled the heavy outer door closed, and it was a wall once more.
Suddenly it hit me. What was I doing? For a moment, I was overcome with the magnitude of what I needed to do—break into a Ball, find a Prince, confront a Queen, and then somehow, work out a way that we could be together that didn’t involve him abdicating, or marrying someone else.
Baxter had no such problems. He wiggled out of my arms with an excited yap and began running like crazy through the trees and bushes. Poor dog. I’d forgotten how cooped up he must have been these last few days.
He ran toward me, stopping with head down and tail in the air, before barking and running around a nearby tree, then back. It made me laugh. “I’m sorry buddy. I don’t have time to play. But I’ll tell you what—why don’t you stay here until I return.”
He cocked his head at me.
“A ball’s no place for a puppy. I could never sneak you in.”
He seemed to understand, because he suddenly began sniffing at a nearby tree, and then digging at its base.
Entry to the castle proper was surprisingly easy—there were no guards, and as I worked my way through the gardens I saw more than one couple out for a walk in the late afternoon sun. I paused when I came to the grand old tree in the center of the gardens. A tuxedoed man was pushing a woman in a dainty orange and black dress gently upon it. If only they knew.
I joined the scattered couples making their way indoors as the sun set. Everyone donned their masks as they entered the castle. I did too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The castle had been transformed.
The ballroom adjoined the throne room at the center of the castle, equally as grand, with the same sparkling diamond chandeliers. They were fully lit now; million dollar disco balls that sent gentle rays of color onto the dancefloor. The walls here were not set with gems, however. Instead, huge canvas paintings rose two stories high and just as wide, depicting mountain scenes, and events from Alonia’s past. A king stood atop a peak in one oil painting. In another, a miner held aloft a jewel that glowed as bright as the sun. Huge potted trees and ornamental fan palms dotted the corners of the room. A balcony, hung with wide ribbons, ran along one entire wall.
And across every inch of floor, and looking down from the balcony, a million people swirled and mingled in an eclectic mix of color. The men were all dressed in tuxedos, some with wide sashes that stretched from shoulder to hip, some with medals that hung in rows across the heart; others with capes, or long curling wigs.
The women were all dressed in ball gowns. Some sashayed in silk, others twirled hooped skirts that bore ruffles and frills, yet others frolicked amidst layer upon layer of taffeta.
Every face wore a mask. Plain ones, fancy ones, masks in the shapes of animals and objects. A woman walked past with a mask in the shape of a black and white domino; the eyeholes, two dots on its face. A man bowed to her, his own mask of the Venetian variety, with a broad sloping upper lip and a tricorn hat above.
Yet through it all, I found Xander immediately. He was at the center of a circle, but stood out from the crowd like Venus before dawn; a shining star that drew the eye. He wore a white suit jacket of military cut above dark pants, with golden epaulettes set with a single ruby upon each shoulder. His mask was of a stag, a masterwork of black leather that ran from either side of his mouth up to majestic antlers above his head.
I pushed closer to the king of the forest, my own mask held to my face, but I was shouldered roughly aside before I arrived by a huge fat man with a walrus mustache. He had a fist full of glittering rings and was dressed in clothes that barely fit him. He was followed by a trail of gushing sycophants. “Out of my way,” he growled.
But then he stopped, his beady eyes roving my body. “And what’s your name?” One of his followers addressed him as Sire and I froze. This must be King Fredrick.
I forced myself to remain calm. He didn’t know who I was. “This is a masquerade, Sire. That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
His lips licked again. “Maybe I will, at that.”
I thought quickly. I couldn’t have him paying me attention. “I’m sure my husband would love to meet you too. In fact, I see him coming this way.” I indicated vaguely to a crowd of people nearby. “Perhaps I should go and get him?”
The King looked me up and down. “I have no interest in meeting your husband. But should you find yourself alone later…” he let the sentence trail away, and then licked his lips in what I was sure he thought was a
seductive manner. I struggled not to shiver as he continued on his way.
* * *
To give credit where it was due, Xander’s eyes never once ventured to my seins, remaining firmly on my face as I approached with peacock mask held high. His brow furrowed behind his own mask, puzzling at my familiarity.
I couldn’t blame him for not recognizing me—I felt like a different woman in this dress, with my hourglass figure and plumped up breasts. How must other people see me? The crowd parted as I drew close, my eyes lowered. I dropped to a curtsy before him.
His head cocked. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
I bit my lower lip, then rose and leaned in close. “Oh, but I think you have.”
His whole body stiffened. And then he took my hand, pulling me urgently through the crowd. “Excuse me, excuse me!” He pushed his way to a door and then we were stumbling through it, and our masks were off and we were kissing before it even closed. “Kate!” he exclaimed when he let me come up for air. He seized me in another a kiss that made my legs buckle. “I’m, I’m…” I’d never seen him lost for words. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he finally managed.
“Not by choice,” I grimaced. “Xander, your mother—she kicked me out of the castle.”
The look in his eyes darkened. “I know. Richards managed to send word. Kate, I only found out this afternoon. If I had known…” He left the statement hanging, and instead swept his gaze across my body. “You look… stunning. I just assumed you’d sneak into the kitchens, in a food truck or similar.”
I stifled a laugh. “I almost did.” I stepped back and gave him a twirl. Everything was better already, now that we were together. “Do you like?”
His eyes widened. “More than you can imagine. How did you…”
“Mara.”
He whistled. “She needs to do all of your dresses.”
“Xander, your mother fired Richards.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did she now? We’ll see about that.”
“And I think she’s planning on announcing the engagement she set up as well.”
“I did wonder why King Fredrick was here,” he muttered. “Well we’ll see about that, too.”
“Xander, what do we do?”
Xander opened his mouth to speak, but the words never came. Because suddenly, from the other side of the door, we both heard a familiar bark.
CHAPTER EIGHT
We opened the door to find a little dog with dirt in his beard trailing mud all over the floor. He was causing chaos. “Baxter!” I snatched at him, but he danced away, barking loudly.
I turned to Xander with worry. “Where’s your mother?” I asked, snatching unsuccessfully at Baxter again. What had gotten into that dog! If the Queen saw Baxter, she’d know I was back. And I couldn’t have that—not yet. Not until we had a plan.
He shook his head. “She dines in private before coming to balls. She won’t be here, not yet. Still, you’d better get that dog—a guard is bound to recognize him soon.”
A crowd was starting to gather around the puppy. “You hold their attention?” I asked.
He nodded. Then with a wink he raised his arms and called for the music to stop. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he announced. “If I may have your attention.” All eyes turned to the Crown Prince and for the moment Baxter was temporarily forgotten. “I just wanted to take a few moments to thank you all for coming…”
I darted after my troublesome dog, who upon seeing me had scampered, tail wagging, in the opposite direction. “Puppy training,” I muttered to myself. “We’re starting first thing tomorrow morning.”
The little dog raced under dresses and through legs, heads looking down as he passed. I trotted as fast as I dared in pursuit. He seemed to be making for a door set discretely in one wall, cordoned off with a velvet rope and slightly ajar. He pushed through it; I ducked under the rope and followed.
Sound was muted in the corridor beyond. I followed the scamper of claws on stone until I rounded a corner and saw him, sitting, waiting for me. He gave a bark before dashing ahead once more.
“Baxter!” I whispered urgently. I wasn’t sure how far sound travelled here. “Come on boy!”
I caught up with him around the next corner; he was sitting beside a heavy closed door. It had fine timber edging, and was lavishly decorated.
“Baxter!” I muttered, grabbing him by the collar. He whined, and then began scrabbling at the door.
I pulled him away. “You’re going in the kennel until all this is over.”
He whined again, tugging on his collar more firmly. And then, to my utter shock, he bit me.
I let go with a yelp—the nip more of a fright than anything else. Baxter ran back to the door and began to bark at it; scratching as if wanting to be let in.
My eyes narrowed. There was something on the other side he wanted to get to urgently. “What is it boy?” Was it food? Or another dog?
I moved to grab his collar again, but he backed away from me, growling. What had gotten into him? “There’s nothing there, boy,” I said, trying to explain. My hand went to the golden handle of the door. “It’s probably lock-”
The door swung open on silent hinges and with a yap, Baxter darted through.
* * *
We were in a small room, opulently decorated with beautiful golden wallpaper and plush, deep red carpet. A crystal chandelier hung from the roof, illuminating a dining table set with a magnificent long tablecloth and a single chair. Knives and fork sat on either side of a lace tablemat.
I frowned. This must be the Queen’s private dining chamber. But where was she?
Baxter had disappeared beneath the tablecloth. I could hear him on the other side of the table, barking urgently. I crossed swiftly, breaking into a run as I saw a plate shattered upon the floor; a wine goblet spilled nearby. Its contents were a darker stain on the red carpet.
Then I saw the Queen. She was splayed face down, one hand to her throat, the other stretched toward the table. She was still alive— I could see the hand around her throat spasming.
I bent down quickly and rolled her onto her back, medical instincts taking over. Her eyes were wide, the whites showing on a terrified face, and her neck muscles straining. She was choking—her throat fighting to suck down air that couldn’t get through.
I’d visually check her airways. Then I’d pull her up into a sitting position. From there, I could kneel behind her and…
Her eyes focused on me. And in that that moment, that single crystal segment of eternity when our eyes met, an understanding passed between us. Something she’d instantly known, and I was only now realizing from the look of resignation that had entered her eyes.
I had a choice. I could check her airway. Then I could pull her into the sitting position and perform the Heimlich maneuver. It would maybe save her life.
Or I could step away. I could walk out of the room and let someone else find her, too late. I could walk back to Xander, and get married in the morning. I could, without having ever done a thing, ensure that the woman who hated me and had forbidden our union would never interfere again.
I had less than a minute to make my choice—her eyes had the glassy look of someone going quickly unconscious. The decision took less than a second.
The first thing she did when the chicken bone flew out was gasp for air; a huge heaving breath that wanted to suck all of the oxygen from the room. Her breaths were fast and desperate as she wiped the spittle from blue lips.
When she had calmed, I poured her a drink of water. She took it in trembling fingers, still sitting upon the floor. Then she looked at me with large, confused eyes. “Why?” she croaked.
My own fingers were shaking, too. “You asked me once, what price I put on life. No matter what I think of you, and what you’ve done, I’m a nurse. Life will always rank higher.”
She climbed unsteadily to her feet. “Thank you,” she said.
A pair of guards burst through the door—I’d called for help as s
oon as I’d made my decision. “Your Majesty!” one cried, leaping toward her. The other leapt toward me, throwing me back against a wall.
She eyed them with distain. “A lot of help you were.” Then she pointed to the one holding me. “Let her go. This woman saved my life.”
I had to give it to her—she regained her composure quickly. The Queen drained her glass, and then strode from the room. “Follow me, all of you. I do not like being in debt, and I intend to fix it, immediately.”
The guards escorted me from the room. When I looked for Baxter, he was nowhere to be found.
CHAPTER NINE
The Queen strode through the crowd, music and conversation grinding to a halt as she passed. She had a look in her eyes, a look that turned the crowd silent.
When she reached the podium, she turned. “I am not one for formalities,” she said, tone clipped. “But just minutes ago, I nearly died.”
A gasp ran through the gathered audience. I could see Xander on the other side of the room pushing his way toward me quickly.
“My dear,” she beckoned to me, “come here.”
I stepped timidly upon the dais. Public speaking made me nervous. “Your Majesty,” I said quietly. “I didn’t save your life for-”
“Be quiet girl!” the Queen snapped. “I said I didn’t like being in debt, and I mean it.”
She turned me toward the gathered audience. “I, Maria Elizabeth Grenouille the Second, Queen of Alonia, do solemnly give thanks in front of all here present to this woman for saving my life. I grant her a boon—one request, which if it is in my power to give, I will honor.”
A figure pushed to the front of the crowd—Xander. The Queen motioned to her guards and they stepped in front of him, refusing to let him pass. Another figure muscled in beside him, a huge fat man with a walrus mustache and a fist full of glittering rings. “Maria, what is the meaning of this?”
