40. Verena
Verena
Wait. The Pied Piper?
Isn't that the guy who led all the rats in a village away with his music, and then when the village wouldn't pay him, he came back and led their children away, too?
At least, that's how I remember the creepy tale.
But maybe it's different in this world, because everyone in the ballroom is reacting like they're about to see a celebrity. They whisper and press closer to the orchestra stage, watching the cloaked object with bated breath.
The green fabric is pulled aside by one of the musicians, fluttering to the ground and revealing…a shit ton of butterflies. All different sizes, shapes, and wing patterns, perched all over inside a giant cage.
When the musician opens the door of the cage with a little squeak, the butterflies stay right where they are, apparently not interested in whatever magical show is supposed to be.
At first, the grand reveal seems pretty fucking anticlimactic.
And then the single, clear note of a flute fills the air.
The note dips, then climbs, over and over until it reaches a breathtaking pitch.
Something inside my chest abruptly seizes so hard that I press a hand above the neckline of my dress as I whirl to face the source of the music.
The awed crowd is moving to form a large circle around a handsome man. He can't be much younger than me. He's dressed in a tunic that's half bright green and half dark green, with brown trousers and dark boots. His hair is a wavy, messy, dark blond that falls over his forehead.
Despite his humble outfit, the Pied Piper must have slipped in with everyone else—but now he's playing the long, bone-white flute in his hands without a care in the world, his fingers moving expertly and swiftly over the tone holes.
The tune transforms into something playful and timeless, teasing through the hushed silence and echoing throughout the ballroom.
There's something so pure about it. In this space filled with so much contrived beauty and wealth, this honest sound is just so real. So whimsical and free and so fucking joyful that tears prick my eyes.
Somehow, it makes me miss something long gone.
Another version of myself, I guess. My younger self, who looked at every new thing with wonder and excitement, instead of wariness. The Verena I was before life knocked me down so hard I decided it was better to just stay down.
The Verena before he came along.
Silently, I brush a tear off my cheek.
As if the soulful music wasn't moving enough on its own, gasps ring out as butterflies suddenly pour out of the cage. As the Pied Piper's fluted tune becomes something fiercely hopeful, the butterflies flutter and whirl through the air—and they begin to glow.
I'm mesmerized by the synchronized display of luminescent colors above me. It's so strange and otherworldly to watch this swirling mass grow brighter and brighter.
For a moment, I'm not thirsty beyond belief. I'm not standing in the wrong world, or running from the evil queen's fate.
For a moment, I think I'm happier than I've ever been.
And then, my heart tugs violently again as the Pied Piper's music cuts off.
At once, the magical butterflies disappear into thin air, leaving nothing behind except glittering multicolored sparkles that rain down on an enthralled audience.
Everyone applauds, thrilled by the fantastical performance.
I drop my gaze from the vanished butterflies, brushing away another stray tear.
Then I startle, realizing the Pied Piper is now standing right next to me, studying me—and now that I can see him this much closer, I blink rapidly when I see his eyes.
At first I think they're two different colors, but no.
He has the David Bowie thing going on. One pupil is noticeably bigger than the other, giving his green gaze a quiet, distinctive intensity. It's almost as though each eye holds a different shade of thought as he peers curiously at me.
"What an intriguing soul you have," he muses in one of the most beautiful male voices I've ever heard. He speaks so softly, I almost don't hear him above the ongoing applause.
Like an idiot, I stammer back, "Um, it's broken."
"That so?" His smile is lopsided and unbelievably cute. "So's mine."
Okay, I guess not all the fairy tales are accurate in this world because it's impossible to imagine someone like him taking children away from their parents.
Maybe the Pied Piper story I know just looks different here.
Does that mean the evil queen's story could look different, too?
As I'm staring into his fascinating eyes, the Pied Piper's smile drops away, the adorable humor evaporating. There's a nearly imperceptible shift somehow, before his attention moves to my lower lip.
When he lifts a finger to touch the mark hiding under my lip stain, my heart does something really fucking unexpected. Instead of turning inside out in discomfort at such an unexpected touch, it tingles, pounding like I just took a flying leap off a high-dive.
"Who bit my queen?" he asks darkly.
His tone is so drastically different from just a second ago that I take a step back.
"Oi! Piper!" one of the musicians calls.
Immediately, the Pied Piper blinks away the sudden intensity like he's just as surprised as I am.
He looks at his raised finger, then back at me, only looking more shocked by the second as his brows climb up.
"Did I just…touch you? How—"
"Piper!" they call again, drawing his attention.
Even though this interaction has lasted less than a minute, people are murmuring around us, some of them staring. The Pied Piper waves at someone, glances back at me, and grins again like he's the gentlest ray of sunshine that ever fell from heaven.
"Would Your Loveliness please excuse me? It's time for them to pay the piper."
As he disappears into a group of people who are clearly big fans, music surges from the orchestra he's headed toward. It must signal the official beginning of the masquerade, because lots of people are already taking to the polished floor for a dance I don't recognize.
I turn to look for Anika—but she's also gone. I catch a glimpse of Prince Leif leading her to a less crowded area of the ballroom, far from the royal dais where his father is now sitting to observe the festivities.
"I've been abandoned, Eris," I sigh dramatically.
He doesn't reply. I'm not sure if he's trying to be funny, or if he's actually not in my reflective mask anymore.
If he did go somewhere else for a second, I'm sure he'll be back.
The masquerade has turned into a whirlwind of laughter and color. Glasses of wine slosh in people's hands, fans flutter, and dancers twirl on the dance floor. Everywhere I look, exquisitely dressed people are smiling, gossiping, and enjoying the start of three days of pure entertainment.
For a moment, I wander through the crowd, still protected by the little bubble of space Rhinestone's reputation gives me.
I'm not sure if people are more terrified of the queen of Isenmere or more respectful of her status.
Still, I smirk to myself when I see some people pointing in awe at my gown.
Their eyes sparkle with the same admiration I have for all the ensembles I'm checking out.
If things don't go well and it turns out Cinderella can't help me, at least I can look forward to telling Merrick all about the beautiful outfits here tonight.
As I analyze a particularly regal black velvet gown with a high collar resembling raven wings, I realize someone is calling my name.
Well—not my name.
That god-awful one.
"Queen Reinhilde!" the woman calls again.
With a start, I realize Queen Gisela is the one trying to get my attention.
I turn to face her, blinking in surprise as she quickly crosses the polished floor toward me. She's wearing a vivid purple gown that pairs beautifully with her porcelain complexion, and an intricate gold filigree mask to match her crown.
People are giving her plenty of space too, which makes me feel better about my little outcast bubble. Maybe it's just a respect thing people have for queens here.
The only person near her is the second prince—and by near her, I mean Queen Gisela has her son by the arm and is practically pulling him toward me.
Maybe she's just bizarrely eager to introduce him to me, since he's the only member of Aurefeld's royal family I haven't met yet.
Which sounds good to me, because I'm really fucking excited to meet Cinderella's future husband…and subsequently stalk this guy all night to get the chance to meet her.
Aurefeld's queen flashes a bright smile as she comes to a stop before me. "What a stunning dress that is! As is befitting of Isenmere—you've certainly made Ayna proud. I'm even hearing rumors you had a hand in the designs of your party. If so, you are extraordinarily gifted."
I don't understand why she's suddenly behaving so warmly toward me, when she was standoffish just yesterday, but I beam in return.
"Thank you, Queen Gisela. Your gown looks fantastic, but then I'm sure anything does on you."
The middle-aged woman looks speechless for a second before outright blushing.
"Pardon me, but I simply cannot believe I just received a compliment from the Veiled Queen herself. I think I value your opinion on my appearance more than my king's compliments, for you certainly have taste! Are you enjoying the festivities so far?"
"I am. That was quite a way to kick off the festival."
"Wasn't it? I'm simply obsessed with the Pied Piper," she gushes.
Then she gestures at the masked man standing beside her, so I prepare myself for a formal royal introduction.
"My son Konrad has been telling me all about meeting you, and I must say, I am so thrilled!"
"Me too, I'm so pleased to meet—huh?" I fumble as her words sink in.
That's when Cinderella's prince removes his mask to flash me a heated smile…
With a tiny cut healing above it.
Oh my god. This little shit.