Chapter 39
JACOB
LICHTENSTEIN CASTLE
The castle reminds me of my favorite play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Garlands and scarlet roses from the greenhouses drape above the walkways and arches, drenching the air with a floral aroma.
Star-studded lanterns sway from the ceilings while additional candelabras are set along the corridors and tucked into alcoves, creating a fairy-world atmosphere.
Servants rush about, carrying trays laden with more food than most villagers see in years.
My thoughts go to my family at home, scraping by. If only Wilhelm and I could forget this nasty business and sneak out the back door with a bag stuffed with food and race home. It’d be like Christmas in the old days when Father was alive.
Golden candlelight pours through the tall windows and glitters across the gardens like stardust. Laughter and heady perfumes permeate the air as eager guests stroll through the entrance.
“I want to say we’re ready,” I tell Wilhelm. “Except Wissen has shown to be a formidable opponent.”
“What I don’t like is the fact that he’s gone into hiding the day of the ball,” Wilhelm mutters as we make a final round, checking each entrance for security.
When the king’s army arrived at Wissen’s house this afternoon, it was empty.
I put Rumpelstiltskin in charge of the front gate with a firm reminder not to leave his post. He refused until Wilhelm promised him punch and treats.
“Ready?” Wilhelm asks as we step inside the ballroom full of glistening gowns and black suits.
“I must mentally prepare myself for the onslaught of superiority.” I clear my throat. “Very well, I’m ready as I’ll ever be. Should we make a direct beeline for the punch and food? I’m starved.”
“Excellent choice,” Wilhelm agrees eagerly. “I’ll need to pilfer a few for Rumpelstiltskin while I’m at it.”
Decked with streams of tulle and clusters of roses, the ballroom is already filled to the brim, dancers performing their moves to perfection and maidens flapping their fans and giggling in hopes of catching Prince William’s attention from where he’s standing beside his father’s throne on the raised dais.
He’s hardly recognizable with the powder dusting his face, the wig, and the embellished uniform.
The scowl on the prince’s face speaks volumes to his feelings about finding a new wife.
“Our Fritz looks as if he’s having a fantastic time.” Wilhelm grins as we pile plates full of sliced meats, skewered vegetables, berries dusted in sugar, and tiny cakes spread with white whipped frosting.
“Indeed. If he continues with this mood, not a maiden will have him, and he’ll have to resort to marrying one of the garden frogs. Any sign of our doctor?”
“No, but I’ve spotted Ella’s family. She isn’t here.”
My stomach turns. Is she avoiding me after that kiss, or is it just because her family won’t let her come?
The cake I popped into my mouth suddenly tastes dry.
A noticeable shift stirs the room. Conversations falter, leaving only the string quartet to fill the void.
I reach for one of my daggers, scanning the floor and the guests’ faces, which are filled with a mixture of surprise and awe.
“Something is happening,” I say, readying myself for an attack.
The crowd parts, revealing the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen standing at the ballroom entrance.
She’s wearing a billowing ball gown that sparkles under the chandeliers.
It clings to her body like it was made for her, every fold catching the light as if it were spun from the sun itself.
Golden hair piles in intricate braids on top of her head, tangled with snowdrops, with the rest cascading down her back like wings of a dove. She looks like a princess.
The prince’s head whips in the direction of the commotion, and his slouched shoulders draw back at attention. He steps off his platform and strides through the crowd, guests parting for him like a curtain until he reaches the princess.
“Looks like the prince doesn’t need a distraction anymore,” Wilhelm says.
“Let’s hope it’s not too much of a distraction. We need him to be prepared for a potential attack.”
The prince bows to the golden woman and says something. She nods and gives him an endearing smile that, for some reason, tugs at my chest. He takes her gloved hand and escorts her to the dance floor.
My eyes narrow. “There’s something strangely familiar about that woman. Have we seen her before?”
“Knowing our luck, she bears the mark,” Wilhelm grumbles as he loads his plate high with food. “Big surprise there. At this rate, we’ll never leave this village.”
I frown, tossing my plate onto one of the servants’ trays and begin pushing my way closer, intently noting how the prince has wrapped his arm around the golden girl, whisking her across the ballroom dance floor like he’s enchanted.
Everyone’s staring at the couple, probably in shock at the sudden change in the prince.
“I heard her speak,” one lady gossips to the lady next to her. “She’s from the Southlands.”
“Do you think she’s a Southlander princess?”
“Oh, to be sure. But a foreigner? Really, the prince should know better. We know how dreadful that went for Prince William last time.”
“But a wise choice to gain the Southlands’ approval.”
“I heard from a neighbor that the king of the Southlands himself might be attending.”
I pass near Ella’s stepsisters, both decked out in the most extravagant gowns in the hall.
“Oh, Jacob Grimm,” the thin, elegant one says. Marianne, I think her name is. “What are you doing here?”
“The prince needed my services,” I say vaguely, focusing on the prince and the golden woman as they spin around the dance floor.
“I’m surprised they let a commoner such as yourself in.” Frau von Maier sips from her glass as if to swallow her detest.
It takes every ounce of my restraint not to snap back at her. How Ella manages to live with such a monstrous stepmother is beyond me. Mentally, I make a note to start writing this woman’s story and immediately get rid of her once and for all.
“Where’s Ella?” I ask.
“She couldn’t make it,” Marianne says and plucks a canapé from a dish. “She wasn’t feeling well today.”
My mind tumbles. If she’s home alone, I can speak with her and find out what happened last night. Except I can’t leave the ball, not with the possibility of an attack. For her safety, Wissen is my top priority.
“That’s unfortunate,” I say, and then, unable to help myself, continue, “She’s truly the most beautiful maiden of the land. The prince would snatch her up in a heartbeat if she were here.”
My comment strikes exactly where I want because Frau von Maier chokes on her champagne.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Marianne says carelessly. “Cinderella’s to be married tomorrow.”
“Cinderella?”
“It’s Ella’s pet name we gave her.” Marianne whips out her fan and cools herself. “She’s always lying about in the ashes. You must have noticed how she’s determined to be covered in soot.”
“No,” I say in a low, threatening voice. If she continues this sort of talk, Marianne might need to run for her life even if she’s not a Forbidden. “I haven’t.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Bertha’s petite mouth pouts at her plate of delicacies. “The prince is far too enraptured with that Southland princess to give any of us the time of day.”
“Stop eating!” Frau von Maier grabs the plate from Bertha. “You won’t be able to fit into tomorrow’s dress.”
Bertha gazes forlornly at the plate as it’s handed to a servant.
But I’m distracted when Prince William and the golden woman waltz past us.
Her gown shimmers in the candlelight, swaying as she spins past me.
She tilts her head to the side, and her eyes catch mine.
Eyes as startlingly blue as a summer day.
Drumbeats pound against my chest.
Abandoning Ella’s unfortunate relatives, I follow the couple around the perimeter of the dance floor, skirting by hooped gowns, giggling onlookers, and whispers behind fans. I probably look like a hound on the hunt, but I don’t care because I know those eyes and the curve of her jaw.
The shape of her ear and those plump lips.
But that’s impossible. Unless I don’t recognize her because I’ve only ever seen her in mourning clothes and sooty dresses. I need to get close enough to be sure.
“Excuse me.” I step up to where the prince and this mysterious maiden are standing, having just finished their dance. It’s incredibly bold and terrifyingly rude, but when has that ever stopped me?
“May I have your next dance?” I ask her.
She turns then, a smile spreading across her face, lighting her eyes. The tiny scar on her forehead, small and unnoticeable to anyone else, calls to me. My heart stops beating.
This is Ella von Maier.
The rest of the room falls away as she presses a gloved finger to those full, red lips as if to tell me to keep her identity a secret. But then my eyes trail down the smooth curve of her neck.
Where a mark is.
Wings of a bird in flight. Screaming at me that she’s a Forbidden.
There isn’t enough air. A buzzing hums in my ears. I’m frozen in shock and terror and horror.
How did I not see it before?
Prince William frowns, patting my shoulder, jerking me back to reality. “Sorry, Jacob,” he’s saying. “She’s my partner. Besides, don’t you have important things to be doing?”
My words catch in my throat. Then the prince whisks her away into another dance. Her eyes stay on mine, pleading for me to understand. But I don’t. This can’t be happening. It’s a nightmare. Dancers swirl around me, but my feet remain rooted to the floor.
I can’t look away. I don’t even want to try. If only I could cross the space between us. Take her hand. Pull her into me. Tell her I’m going to find a way for us to be together.
“Brother.” Wilhelm drags me off the dance floor. “Are you unwell? You look as if you’ve encountered the Devil himself.”