But no amount of makeup would change the fact that I was so pale and not sun-kissed or tanned like some of the girls at St. Mary’s or that I had large eyes, so large they looked freaky—according to Tiffany. Almost as if reading my mind, Lady Pontus called the makeup artist and rushed her to our side.
“Nothing très dramatique. Simple, fresh, yet very naturelle,” Adelaide commanded a woman in a black generic uniform, with a wink for me.
“Oui madam,” she said.
Two minutes later, she was done, and Adelaide had fastened my eye mask over my face. I looked at myself in the mirror. I hardly recognized the girl in the mirror now. She looked like a real princess, I realized for the very first time. Annoyingly so. When had I began to wish I was one. Not too long ago I just wanted to be a regular girl. Crap.
“Perfect. On’y-va. Come-come.” Lady Pontus rushed me away from the mirror and into the party, giving me no time to admire my image or prepare mentally for what I was going to see.
Once I entered the ballroom, I could hardly breathe. The sight was extraordinarily amazing with giant white Corinthian columns that rose over a wide marble-paved forecourt. The ceiling of the ballroom was painted with trompe l’oeil emblems of Roman gods and mythological scenes, matching the elaborate leaf-and-lower motif of the shining parquet floor below. Hundreds of guests milled beneath the shimmering light shed by seven of the largest chandeliers I had ever seen. I never expected to see that many immortals in one place. It was almost magical in a creepy sort of way.
“Let’s us confuse those fools. I’ll do all the introductions, ma petite fille,” she said, pulling me with her.
I let her. The great thing about big parties was that it had a countless number of people, in this case, masked Strzyga. I didn’t want Nicholas to find me just yet. She was introducing me to all her friends as her granddaughter. She avoided using a name. Although I’d never told her mine, she already knew who I was—the future queen. Crap. Gratefully, the grand majority of people didn’t know who I was yet. If I could just keep my identity concealed a little longer, until I could find Demyan Greco. All I had to do now was avoid Francis or Nicholas.
Lady Pontus held onto my arm, and it was practically impossible to escape her grip without offending her. I had a direful feeling this was a disaster waiting to happen. The trouble with so many people in creepy masks and distracting elaborate costumes was that I was lost in a sea of masks, shadows, laughter, loud music, and expectancy. How was I going to find Demyan? I hadn’t seen him yet, and I needed to convince him to help me escape and save Gavril. Time was running before Marcum’s little distraction.
I smirked with delight as I had royals bowing respectfully in my presence. I wished Gavril could see it. Ugh. Crap. The dire feeling I wasn’t going to see him anymore struck deep. But it was for the best. He will be safe away from the high-brow royals and Asmodeus, I kept repeating.
However, I caught some Strzyga studying me carefully as if I was an oddity in the crowd. I realized then it hadn’t taken too long before Peacock Hair had spread her vile gossips. I sensed others viewing me with apprehension, following me through the room, and others saw me with acceptance. Unfortunately, the latter was the minority of the group. All their thoughts targeted me. I hated my cursed gift at that moment. Listening to so many minds simultaneously was beginning to feel claustrophobic even when the large ballroom had fresh air, gigantic glass chandeliers, and large, tall open doors. All of this was too much for me. I wanted to run and hide from all of them.
If I didn’t stop the voices inside my head, I was going to explode. My head was already in great need of aspirin, perhaps something even stronger. I needed to stop the voices, because it was more than I could handle. I had to focus, and it was suddenly impossible. I had to shut them out.
“Are you all right my dear?” the Marquis of Bourbon asked, interrupting the voices in my head.
I was suddenly grateful that he did, because for a split second they were gone. I focused on him alone. He wore the cutest rabbit facemask, and his jacket had a back opening for his small, furry tail. Immortals were so eccentric and beautiful. It was hard not to admire all of them.
But I continued to focus on one person at a time, understanding that was the only way I could force shutting down all the voices in my head at once. Adelaide introduced me to some royals with long titles and funny, difficult names I was not going to remember. Purposely.
The polite conversation I was supposed to make required much on my part. Most of them had all kinds of dull and dumb questions. Like if I had liked the palace garden lights this year? How was I supposed to know that? Or if I had met the prince yet? Or if the ball theme was the wrong kind of blue? Other questions left me speechless. “Who was a better dancer, Fred Astaire or Michael Jackson?” It was the queerest inquisition ever. Oh, geez. I would put my five cents and bet that some of those Strzyga had been part of the real inquisition. Uh, that was a scary thought.
I could see why the kingdom had to be protected. All these immortals needed a leader, someone who could guarantee their freedom to carry on with their eccentric lives. Although I didn’t feel like I was, I realized I was now part of the them club too.
Those who made no questions talked, and how they talked. I had to wonder sometimes if it was all true and how much was boasting done to impress me. However, as I was beginning to understand the context of what immortality entitled, well, I had to grant the boasting of some really old royals as authentic. To whom would they boast about their astonishing stories if it were not to the young granddaughter of Lady Pontus?
If they just knew I was pretending to be her granddaughter.
The vast majority of the guests kept turning their glances toward the main entrance, waiting for my grand entrance with great anticipation. Little did they know, Demyan’s dress and mask still hid me from that grandiose moment.
Then Adelaide freed my arm to introduce me to her husband. He was young and unearthly beautiful with the most striking white-blond hair I had ever seen other than mine. He wore it long, contrasting with his deep blue velvet coat that seemed extravagant and costly. It matched the color of his eyes—violet, like mine. He didn’t wear a mask to cover his face. Just like Adelaide, he carried a matching porcelain mask on a stick that he lifted to or from his face.
“Lord Pontus.” Her tone of voice was adoring toward him.
He gasped, startled when he saw me. He studied my face under my mask and made a quick assessment of the rest of me. Then he grinned charmingly. “It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” he said, holding my hand to kiss it. Finally? Did I miss something?
“Oh, Finn, I am so happy she has accepted our protection,” Adelaide said to him.
I was beginning to feel like a stray dog. I wasn’t up for adoption. Gratefully, the dancing music had started, and the ballroom was in a sudden pandemonium of Strzyga moving in and out.
“Oh, I think I see my friend down there. Nice meeting you. See you around,” I lied and did my escaping act. I had to find Demyan.
Chapter 44
I took off, fighting a horde of dancers coming inside the ballroom and traffic moving onto the sidelines of the ballroom and other sections of the palace. My hearts drummed in full force now, as I turned and found the prince entering the dancing hall.
He looked very delectable in his white pants and royal blue jacket. His mask had a couple small white feathers that were supposed to match my dress. Crap. I felt empty and longing for him.
Several female Strzyga, including Peacock Hair, surrounded Nicholas. I watched him, smiling at Peacock Hair. I took a couple inhales to shake off feeling deflated. Instead, I felt my blood boiling.
His eyes searched for me. I ignored him and continued to stride away, but I felt his gaze looking for me. The emptiness and longing had acted as a magnet to him. It was entirely the golden arrow’s fault. Crap, I couldn’t let him find me just yet, for Gavril’s sake.
I lost myself among the colorful crowd as I marched until rea
ching the opposite side of the ballroom where neither the Pontuses nor the prince were. The large crystal chandeliers’ lights suddenly dimmed. I exhaled in relief. The distance between Nicholas and me had become more chaotic with a sea of people in masks and opulent and exotic attires between us.
However, that distance, as small as it was, was unbearable. At least the prince was doing a better job at fighting it than I was. I hated feeling so disappointed when his attention was stolen from me. I had to stop feeling like I did anything wrong, that I needed him to smile at me, only me. Instead, I concentrated on having a life under my own terms. My own life. Right?
All I had to concentrate on was what needed to be done and what I wanted. I wanted to go to college. Remember? School with higher degree of education. Yup, that place with cute boys, normal human friends, and lots of parties. The promise land of freedom. Yes, that place, Ailie. My attempt to dissuade myself was a tad moronic, too, but hey, whatever it took. And I could just do these things if I was free of Asmodeus and his manipulative ways.
I fought the horde of festive Strzyga dancers entering the hall as I was trying to leave. The scene was somewhat chaotic. I ran into a wall of muscle, a very tall and imposing man in black attire. I raised my gaze up slowly until I was face-to-face with a vertical half facemask, exquisitely hand painted with red-and-gold flames that matched my dress and my mask.
I gasped, understanding this was Demyan Greco.
He grinned wickedly.
“May I ask my lady this dance?” He bowed and gently took my hand.
I grinned and then felt utter panic.
“I can’t waltz,” I lied as he led me into the dance floor. I had taken ballet at St. Mary’s, and I knew the one-two-three, one-two-three steps. My panic was that of being in the open, plain view while dancing with him as Nicholas was searching for me.
“Well, I am rather handy at it. My lady need have no fear. Just do what I do, just opposite and backwards.” He twirled with me on the dance floor, following the live grand orchestra music inside the hall with expert movement.
I broke into laughter, knowing he was teasing me cleverly. His epigrammatic expression was eclipsed by his mischievous, lopsided grin. Perhaps I could still have some fun regardless of how shaky I felt, and regardless of how ludicrous this whole situation was.
Demyan was not only a good dancer, but he never made me feel ungraceful like a goofy-footed penguin. Gratefully, those long-forgotten ballet classes carried over somehow onto the dance floor. We laughed at every turn. I was truly enjoying this party now. It was as if we had magic, as if we had known each other’s rhythm forever. My heart jumped with delightful excitement, and somehow the humming, the longing, and the emptiness were gone and forgotten. I was safe in his arms. Suddenly, I realized he was the antidote to the arrow’s imprint.
“Miss Pearson,” he whispered intimately, close to my ear. His breath felt like a kiss.
I leaned closer to him. “Yes,” I whispered back.
He sighed. I felt him squeezing me closer to him, and I let him. It felt so right to be so close to him.
“I should have foreseen your choice at this party would cause an earthquake in your path.” His words were more than a warning. He pushed me away from him so I could see him.
I suddenly recalled the reason for this party. “Mister Greco, I have great favors to ask,” I rushed to tell him, making direct eye contact with him.
“Go on,” he said, acknowledging the seriousness of my request.
“I am planning to run away tonight, and I need your help.” I paused and continued as he twirled with me on the dance floor. “I can’t leave without freeing my friend Gavril, and I know the only person that can do that is Nicholas. I need you to come to my room and knock on my doors after the emergency that will occur exactly at eleven tonight.”
“Miss Pearson, what exactly are you thinking to do in your room?” He frowned at what my plan might entail.
“It is the only way I can save my friend,” I explained, looking meaningfully straight into his eyes.
“Your friend will be fine, if you leave with me,” he said.
“No, he will not be treated fairly, and you know it. I have to make Nicholas take Gavril’s collar off,” I said.
“And you are planning to do this, how? Oh, don’t tell me.” He was being angrily sarcastic with me.
“Nothing will happen if you come at exactly eleven and interrupt us. I need you to be that person.” I pressed my hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath the texture of his very ancient, leather woven armor.
He sighed. “And what will this emergency be that will deserve me my head severed?” he asked.
“I am hoping it will be a major party disruption—”
“Hoping? I must insist and convince you to leave right now with me. Leave everything else to me to figure out. I promise, you will be safe.” He interlaced his hand with mine, pressing it gently.
“I can’t risk my friend Gavril’s or Francis’s lives. It would be very selfish.” My eyes pleaded his for understanding.
He inhaled. “Miss Pearson, you have more than honored me by dancing with me. I could never say no to you, ever. But I must warn you that what you intend to do is extremely risky. Therefore, I strongly suggest leaving with me right now—”
“Francis taught me always to have a contingency plan in place. If things go south, I will consider your plan, Plan B then,” I teased him back, feeling ashamed I had no Plan B. Francis would be so disappointed.
He shook his head. “Miss Pearson, just one word, and no one will threaten you. I promise, I will make sure you can follow your dreams,” he said, winking at me.
Suddenly, I felt like I had agreed to leave the palace tonight, away… with him. Oh, boy. That couldn’t happen. First, I had to affront my fight with Ash, alone and as far away as I could be from Demyan, Gavril, Nicholas, and Francis. I wasn’t going to risk them trying to protect me, just like Mother Clarisse had.
“Biogenetics, was it?” he asked, moving with the music.
Yes, that was my dream, except that was wishful thinking. I had to survive Ash first, and things looked a bit bleak on my side. But I could imagine… and dream. God, I was going to try anything to be accepted in one of those colleges, and I was going to use those papers and money in my backpack. If only—
At that exact moment, Nicholas met my glance. Crap, the arrow led him to me, inadvertently making my heart jolt. I didn’t like what I saw. He was upset. The prince was watching us closely with his arms crossed. My glance captured a heat wave emanating from him to Demyan. Anger.
Why was this bothering me when I was happy and having a wonderful time in Demyan Greco’s arms? The prince and Francis were watching us from opposite sides of the dance floor. Francis had his arms crossed too. Not a good sign. Uh, oh. The letter. I had to give Demyan Francis’s letter. I reached into my small clutch and pulled it out.
“This is for Francis.” I handed it to Demyan who took it.
“Let me guess, would this be an “at eleven p.m.” warning?” He was making fun of my crazy plan, and my cheeks burned. “Come with me now, Miss Pearson,” he insisted.
I swallowed hard. It was so easy to have someone else take charge, but I couldn’t. I had barely forty-four hours left to confront evil, and I wasn’t going to get the people I cared about crushed to dead or held hostage with a bomb on their neck. Not again. Not ever.
I caught Francis watching Demyan. I listened to his mind. Her mask and dress match his. She still can’t trust me. Those chocolates were from Master Greco and not from the prince. Enit found no security registration of chocolates to her room.” He had correctly guessed who had sent me the chocolates I shared with Enit. I was going to be so very grounded after this. That was if I made it safely from confronting Ash.
“Unfortunately, the moment to leave has come.” He surely was joking.
I followed his gaze. Demyan Greco’s face paled at the sight of the couple approaching the princ
e. Lord and Lady Pontus were exchanging words in private with him. I couldn’t leave, not yet. I had to convince Nicholas now.
They all stared at me pointedly, exchanging tête-à-tête conversations. Adelaide waved friendly at me. Demyan’s eyes then turned to me, looking pointedly at my neck and earrings. He gasped. I turned my gaze to Francis. He had noticed them, too, with irritation. Judging from his frowned face, he didn’t like Lord and Lady Pontus or my necklace much.
What did all this mean? Why was everyone flipping out over the jewelry Lady Pontus had let me use, making such a big deal?
“Let’s go,” Demyan ordered me, as we watched Nicholas moving our way.
Suddenly feeling as though Demyan had taken over my operation, I hesitated, holding him back. “I have to save Gavril first,” I explained, but Demyan pulled my hand without waiting for my agreement anymore and dragged me out of the dance floor. Fortunately, Francis blocked our way.
“Congratulations. You are the most besought girl tonight, I must say.” Francis had a hint of sarcasm, a great dollop of disappointment, and an extra dash of cryptic hurt in his voice that didn’t go unnoted. Shaken not stirred, and I had in my hands a Molotov cocktail ready to explode.
Francis’s eyes fixed on Demyan’s possessive hand clamping mine and his other holding me captive around my waist. I listened to his mind coming to conclusions rather quick. I felt the floor sinking under me. He had figured out that Demyan was taking me with him whether I wanted to or not. Francis’s gaze met mine. My eyes were hesitant, almost scared of leaving before saving Gavril. A sort of an unspoken agreement exchanged between us. He was going to stop Demyan Greco from doing whatever Francis thought Demyan was going to do. Which was good but for the wrong reasons. Demyan was just helping me. He wasn’t doing anything bad.
“Francis, this isn’t what you think.” I sort of made it worse to help my case, because it was exactly what he thought it was. It simply wasn’t part of my plan. But he didn’t know that. I looked at him, feeling utterly guilty for not trusting him with my plan to begin with.
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