Chapter 16 #2
“Your Highness,” he said. He made his way toward Adelina, who continued to chat with Rodrigue. He whispered something in her ear, and with a huff, she spun around, masked her displeasure, and marched away.
Nin wasn’t sure what he had said, but he glanced at her with a small, knowing smile.
At least she had someone who could help her rein in her “cousin”.
A ballet troupe entered, and the dancers cleared the floor for their performance.
Ballerinas and musicians took their positions.
The dancers’ pink skirts extended out like soft petals as they curtsied before the court.
Each chandelier in the room faded, but the ones spotlighting the performers flared to life as if by enchantment.
The crowd murmured in awe at the display of Maker’s Breath pulsing an ethereal glow upon the floor.
The conductor offered a respectful bow to the king and queen before approaching his small orchestra. With a flick of his baton, the music and dancers sparked to life.
Ballerinas twirled with grace, balancing on pointe and leaping across the floor.
Candlelight shimmered against the marble, and the tall mirrors along the wall reflected the performers’ images repeatedly until it seemed as if hundreds of dancers filled the ballroom.
The crowd leaned in, their rapt attention glued to the dancers, but Nin stifled a yawn.
It was nearing midnight, and they still hadn’t started supper. After hours of dancing, music, and endless conversation, the ballerinas began to blur together. Though their skill was impressive, hunger gnawed at her, her feet ached, and she could no longer find a standing position to relieve them.
Nin peeked over her shoulder and found Cedric shrouded in the dark, standing guard on the second floor, his hands bracing the railing. Their eyes met, and a small smile tugged on her lips. His unwavering presence steadied the nerves fighting restlessly through her heart.
She was safe with him.
With the crowd’s attention on the performance, Nin slipped away to wander toward the long tables overflowing with decadent treats.
The display was magnificent even in the dim lighting: flaky chocolate croissants, poached pears, strawberries and cream, glazed tarts, and every sugary confection she could have desired.
Except…
A frown touched her face as she looked over the delectable desserts. Where were the macarons?
She had been in the palace for a month and still hadn’t gotten her hands on a single one. Not only was she prohibited from indulging during her “illness”, but the true princess enjoyed savory over sweet. As her double, Nin was forced to pretend the same.
A grave injustice. Nin tsked in dismay.
She leaned in, her eyes sweeping over the confections as though the macarons might reveal themselves to her at any given moment.
Then a flash of gold caught her eye.
A plate piled high with colorful macarons—mint green, blush pink, and warm caramel—drifted past her. Her head snapped in the direction where the servant wove through the crowd to offer them to the eager guests watching the performance. Anticipation fluttered in her chest. This could be her chance.
Nin followed the servant, their mousy hair bobbing through the crowd, while she maintained what she hoped was an appropriate pace. Running after a man with sweets would certainly invite unwanted scrutiny.
Some guests offered her a word of greeting, forcing her to pause her pursuit to respond. Yet, the more she abided by the rules of propriety, the greater the distance grew between herself and the tempting treats.
Curse these ridiculous rules!
She only needed one bite—only one, and she would be satisfied for the rest of her existence.
The servant veered toward the edge of the room, slipping past a pillar and out of sight where the room was darkest. Nin followed, quickening her pace just enough to keep up with him. But when she rounded the pillar—
The servant and the plate of macarons were gone.
“Just my luck,” she muttered.
Taking a deep, determined breath, she continued her search. She peeked around the open door leading to a hallway.
Empty.
A cloud of white powder burst in her face.
She gasped, her hands flying to her neck.
The fine substance coated her tongue and clung to her throat.
She coughed, blinking through the haze, but the air grew thinner in her lungs.
As she struggled to grasp a breath, she bent over, her eyes watering.
The ground tilted beneath her, and the hallway distorted into a blur of colors.
A hazy silhouette of a man stepped in front of her—too close for comfort. Every limb froze, and the connection between her mind and body severed.
“Follow me.”
Her thoughts drifted like curling smoke as the edges of her vision softened. Calmness descended upon her. The panic that should have raged through her became nothing but a distant scream. Nothing mattered—nothing at all.
Obedience settled over her like a second skin. She stumbled once, twice, before the person supported her like a puppet being dragged across the marble by their strings.
That’s so kind of him, she thought as she staggered through hallway after hallway. The world spun like the twirling ballerinas. Something pleasant beckoned her to take a step, and another.
Up.
It was all she registered. One step at a time. Something creaked open, and wind brushed against her face. Or was it someone fanning her? Whatever it was, it seemed better to agree than to wonder at all.