CH.8 The masquerade ball
The impatient Anastasia jumped out of the carriage before the door could be opened.
"Remember to act like a lady, Anastasia," her mother warned her. "We're at the royal court, not on a farm."
"Yes, Mom." She didn't like the way she was teaching her. Her dress is magical, after all.
Prince Edmund stood on the balcony of the palace and watched the crowds of young ladies flocking to the masquerade ball. They were bursting with color. Even from a distance, he could hear their delighted laughter.
"Who are you looking for so impatiently?" the father king found him.
"No one," he replied, a lie written on his lips.
"Really?" the king gave his son a questioning look.
"He's looking for a girl he met at a dragon festival," the guard commander revealed.
"So that's why you invited the whole kingdom. You've already chosen your bride."
"I don't know what you're talking about, dear father." Prince Edmund smiled mischievously. "I only wanted to please our people."
Edmund wanted to send Iris a personal invitation to the ball, but he didn't know who to send it to, as he had forgotten her name.
His father the king had him guarded so that he wouldn't sneak out among the ordinary people in the city again.
But he managed to do it once anyway. He looked for her all over the city.
He searched the market and the secret place she had led him to.
Finally, he went to her house. He crept up to the house from the back.
He knew that she lived with a strict stepmother and didn't want to cause her any trouble.
He came to the kitchen door, heard her voice from there.
She was singing. He carefully peered through the window, longing to see her again.
And he saw her. She was cooking and dancing to the melody coming from her lips. She was so beautiful and wild.
And that scared him. He didn't know how she would react when she saw him.
Would she even want to talk to him, after he had left her without a word after their night together?
He had forgotten about her at the dragon festival, dawn had come, and he had to rush back to the palace before his father noticed he was gone.
She was so beautiful, sleeping so peacefully there.
He didn't want to wake her from her sweet dreams. And what would he tell her?
That he was the crown prince and that he had to return to his duties?
Would she believe him? Or would she be scared? So he left without a word.
And he left back then too. He got scared and left again without a word, hoping that she would come to the ball. That she would find her way to him.
The King and Queen sat on their thrones, and Crown Prince Edmund stood by their side.
The double doors to the hall opened, and the potential brides were admitted.
The servants admitted them one by one and introduced them to His Majesty and the Crown Prince.
The ladies bowed low to them. The Prince smiled at them all, but only at one did his smile shine like the sun itself.
"Madame Tremaine and her daughter Anastasia."
They bowed deeply before His Majesty. Anastasia's gaze met the prince's.
"Anastasia," he whispered her name to himself.
He looked at her like an angel. A spark lit up in his eyes. As if he suddenly saw in pink. Everything was so clear. Her dress. The hearts on the peacock's tail. He saw them flying around her. Her hair the color of fire.
"It seems you've found your mystery girl." The king gave his son a mischievous look, but he didn't let go of Anastasia.
Once all the guests were introduced and entered the hall, it was time for the prince to choose his first dance.
Each one wanted to be the one he chose, but the prince aimed his steps straight at one and only one.
He approached Anastasia. He took her hand in his.
Like a gentleman, he kissed the back of her hand and bowed to her.
"Will you give me the first dance, Miss Anastasia?"
She had to fight back to keep from squealing with joy. Instead, she simply returned the prince's courtesy and agreed to his request.
"It would be my pleasure, Your Highness."
He pressed her to his chest. The music began to play.
They stepped into the rhythm of the intoxicating melody.
The guests gave them space and watched them dance.
Anastasia was not a good dancer. Anastasia was not good at anything.
She stepped on the prince's feet. But Prince Edmund did not notice anything.
He was intoxicated by the magic that surrounded her, the world shrouded in a veil of pink.
He felt as if floating. He only perceived her, the way her heart beat in her chest, her breath, the smile decorating her lips.
"I feel like we've known each other forever," he told her.
"It must be fate that we met," said Anastasia.
"Exactly. Fate. We are two halves of one soul that have finally found their way back to each other."
"I agree. We belong together like strawberries and chocolate."
Prince Edmund laughed. "You're funny."
"I know."
The music changed its tune. They stayed together for the second dance. They didn't stop at all.
"Look at the way he's looking at her. He seems to really like the girl," the queen said to the king.
"Should we call them to finally introduce her to us when he sneaked out of the palace to see her?" said the king to his queen.
"Let them dance together. He'll introduce her to us when the time comes," she replied.
The gentlemen invited the waiting ladies to dance.
They joined the prince and Anastasia on the dance floor.
It was a whirlwind of colorful skirts flying in the air.
The ladies' entire dresses formed a costume.
Dressed in flowers, various animal motifs, butterflies decorating their bodices.
The gentlemen's faces were covered with masks.
They danced in unison. One step here, one step there.
A spin. They lifted their partners into the air and spun them around.
?
They found themselves in front of the royal palace. Luc's clothing had changed. He was dressed in a black suit with gold ornaments. A gold watch chain hung from his vest pocket. His face was adorned with a lace mask similar to hers.
"Have you decided to keep me company at the ball?" Iris gave him a questioning look.
"It is rude for a lady to go to a ball unaccompanied. I don't want my little witch to embarrass me." He offered her his shoulder.
"Don't call me that."
"I know you love it."
Iris rolled her eyes and accepted his shoulder warmly.
They climbed the stairs to the palace. The servants opened the door for them.
Iris was greeted by a view of immense extravagance and nobility.
The marble was decorated with golden ornaments.
They looked like creeping roses. Their thorns pierced the stone.
Crystal chandeliers sparkled beautifully in the candlelight, creating a flickering light.
Dozens of mirrors multiplied it, driving the night out of the palace corridors.
Music echoed through the rooms. They followed its melody into the ballroom, resplendent with the colors of all kinds of masks.
They were standing on the inner balcony.
No one had even noticed their arrival. No one had announced the late guests.
The entire celebration was taking place below them.
Iris observed the people behind the masks, searching for the one for whom she risked the damnation of her own soul today.
Weak, unable to resist temptation. She found Anastasia in the middle of the crowd.
She had obviously been dancing with the prince.
She recognized it by the mask in the shape of a lion that was on their family crest and the blue sash.
He looked at her as if she was a miracle.
The spell had clearly worked. Her stepmother watched them with a triumphant look.
Iris sighed in disappointment. She hoped that from now on she would have the peace she had earned by damning the prince.
Luc leaned his back against the railing, fixing his golden gaze on Iris. He offered her a glass of champagne.
"I never want to see alcohol again." she refused.
"Don't ruin the fun, Iris," he told her. "Take this as a toast to our future together."
"And what does that shared future look like? "
"Brighter than the stars, my queen."
Iris reluctantly took the glass of champagne he offered her.
"You shouldn't call me that. I might start to like it."
Luc smiled mischievously. It involuntarily brought a smile to her lips as well.
"To us and what we will achieve together!"
"To us!" they toasted.
She took a sip. She felt the soft fizz of bubbles on her tongue. It was like tasting the stars. Definitely better than the homemade wine they make in town.
"Shall we dance?" Luc offered her his shoulder. "You don't want to stand here all night."
"You're pushy, Luc. Do you know that?"
He leaned toward her. They stood unnaturally close. She could feel his dark heart beating in his chest.
"You have no idea how pushy I can be, Iris," he whispered seductively in her ear.
She felt his lips brush against her skin.
For some reason, it sent a gentle current of energy through her body.
It felt more pleasant than she wanted. When she was close to him and wanted to be even closer.
She shuddered at the feeling. As he pulled away from her, their lips almost touched.
Iris held her breath. He knew exactly how to make her heart race.
A chill ran down her spine at the thought of how she could even think about the taste of his lips.
His eyes sparkled, seeing the sinful thoughts written on her face.
"Don't resist, my queen. You can afford to give in to that sweet temptation for once. I swear I'll be a gentleman.".
His words surprised her. The tone of his voice. There was something sinister about it, but also the promise of adventure. It was too tempting for her to resist.
"One dance won't kill me." She gave her hand in his.
"You might like it so much that you'll never want to dance with anyone else again."
"Don't think too much of yourself, Luc. It's a short moment for me to succumb so recklessly to your allure."
"Sometimes just one look is enough. Your spells know it."
He led her to the dance floor. He grabbed her by the waist, tenderly and possessively at the same time, and pressed her to his chest. The fingers of their hands intertwined.
Something changed with that embrace. She felt it.
His gaze was suddenly more penetrating, his touch more burning.
It gave her goosebumps. She took another small step closer, allowing the world around her to melt away as they stepped out into the sweet melody of the violin.
They danced in unison with the couples and ladies around them.
They passed by the stepmother, who was still watching Anastasia and the prince intently.
Iris looked away, as if afraid that the demon mask would not be able to hide her from her.
"She won't recognize you," Luc told her. "Do you perhaps doubt my power?"
With a gentle touch, he lifted her gaze back to him. She was lost in his golden eyes. Why she felt this way, she didn't understand. As if a piece of her had always been missing, and for the first time in her life she felt whole when he held her in his arms.
It was only the lure of a demon, she had to remind herself. A lure she had succumbed to too much already.
"I shouldn't be here," Iris said. "I should go home."
"Don't you want to find your lover anymore, for whom you were willing to risk so much?" Luc gave her a questioning look.
She almost forgot about him. Again. She had no idea what tricks her demon was playing on her, what spells surrounded him, that she was so consumed by it.
That she couldn't resist him. In that moment of enchantment, she could have bowed down right before him and given him anything he would ask for. Even her own soul.
"I don't see him anywhere. Maybe he's not even here," she said.
"You just need to look harder, dear."
He pointed to the prince dancing with Anastasia.
Iris stared at him intently. His hair was the same color as Eddie's, the color of starlight.
She saw his eyes hidden behind the mask.
She recognized them. No spell could hide the truth in them.
Her heart suddenly felt heavy. What had she done, she wondered in horror.
"Eddie is not a prince. He is an apprentice in the palace." She refused to believe it.
"The Crown Prince is an apprentice, after all. He's learning to rule his kingdom," Luc said. "Didn't that strike you as odd? Prince Edmund. Eddie. Your palace apprentice and the Crown Prince are one person."
Prince Edmund whispered something to Anastasia.
He led her away from the ballroom. Iris broke free from Luc's grip and followed them discreetly.
Every beat of her heart hurt. It beat in spasms. She found it hard to breathe.
She followed them into the gardens. There stood the ruins of an old castle, towering into the night.
Climbing roses grew through the stone. Their white heads shone in the darkness like stars in an ebony sky.
Luc plucked one and placed it in Iris's hair.
"Are you sure you want to see this?"
Inside the ruins was a secret garden. Prince Edmund and Anastasia entered.
Iris watched them through the crumbling arch that had once been a window.
There stood proudly a mighty oak tree. A swing was tied to it.
Anastasia sat in it and the prince gently rocked her.
He took off his lion mask. It was him. Even in the weak moonlight, Iris could clearly make out the features of his face, his ice-blue eyes, the smile that graced his lips.
"Tell me something about yourself," the prince said to her.
"What would you like to know, Your Highness?" Anastasia asked him.
"I would like to hear about your childhood, about your life. I want to know everything," he replied.
"I live only with my mother. My father left us for another woman. I haven't seen him since."
"I'm sorry."
"My stepsister actually still lives with us, but she's nobody I want to talk about. Ugly and untalented. Unpleasant. Terribly selfish and bossy. It's always about her."
Iris clenched her fists at those words. She could do anything she saw in their eyes, and yet it was never enough.
"It must be terrible to live with such a person."
"Mother tolerates her only because she is the daughter of her second husband, who died."
"Your mother must be very kind and generous."
"The kindest person in the world."
About as sweet as hungry wolves, Iris thought.
The prince knelt before Anastasia. He looked deep into her eyes. Anastasia returned the look. The prince took a deep breath. As if the words didn't want to escape his mouth. As if he was fighting the spell she had cast on him.
"I can't imagine life without you, Miss Anastasia. Will you do me the honor of becoming a princess by my side and walk through life with me?"
"Yes!" Anastasia yelled. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
Iris could hear the sound of something inside of her breaking.
The shards of that fragile life-giver were tearing her apart from the inside, leaving her drowning in her own blood.
She blamed herself for what she had done.
She put a curse on him that made him fall in love with Anastasia.
The man she loved and damned. She had given him to her stepsister and stepmother as a gift with a big bow, along with the kingdom.
She felt as if all the air in the world had evaporated.
Drowning on dry land. Tears welled up in her eyes.
They burned her cheeks like hot embers. What have I done, the echo of those words carried through her mind.
She ran away. She couldn't bear to watch Prince Edmund look at Anastasia the way he had looked at her on the Bonfire night. And it was her own fault. The dress she had created to finally secure her freedom had stolen it from her. Her stepmother and Anastasia had taken it from her.
Her head was spinning. The whole world was spinning with her.
She couldn't breathe. Her knees were giving way.
She felt every beat of her heart in her whole body.
She ran as if her life depended on it. She wanted to get as far away from there as possible.
To the other side of the world. To a world where this moment doesn't exist. The skirt of her dress tangled under her feet.
She ran down the stairs they had taken to the palace.
Her shoe came off. Iris tripped and fell, landing hard on a stone.
Rolling down to the very bottom, each step gave her a wound she almost didn't feel through her broken heart.
Her whole body and soul ached as she lay there on the cold ground, looking up at the ebony skies. The stars were shrouded in dark clouds as if they were mourning with her. She was breathing shallowly. Despair spread through her body, engulfing her in darkness.