by Zoe Chant
Journey laughed as well. “Oh! Well, no wonder I didn’t know about it. I’ve never been here in summer; I only arrived three months ago.”
“Directly from...” Lucas had to pause to recall the strange name. “Lummox?”
“I love the way you say it,” she said with a grin. “It sounds exactly the way I feel about it. No, I traveled in other parts of Europe for nine months before I ended up here. I was originally only going to stay for a couple weeks, but I got an offer for a more long-term job. And I really like it here.”
“There is much to love,” Lucas replied. He meant it. But he also wished he could love it as uncomplicatedly as she.
His tone must have said more than he had, because she replied, “Of course, it’s easy to love a place when you’re just visiting. It’s different when you have history there.”
Lucas nodded, but did not reply. Journey didn’t speak again, but the silence wasn’t awkward. Their conversation seemed to continue, but in the motion of their bodies rather than in words. Couples moved and swirled around them, but Lucas felt as if they were dancing alone. They seemed to float across the dance floor, as if they were waltzing in mid-air. Nothing existed but the warmth of Journey’s body in his, the sound of her breath, the fire in his blood, and joy of moving in harmony.
Then Journey sighed, her breasts moving against his chest. “I shouldn’t monopolize you like this. I know you’re supposed to dance with as many women as you can. In fact, I know who you should dance with next! There’s a girl who’s about to turn eighteen, who’d get the thrill of a lifetime—”
Lucas followed Journey’s gaze until it settled on a pretty young girl in a crimson gown waltzing in the arms of an equally young man. He was a graceful dancer. The girl’s eyes were closed, an expression of utter bliss on her face, as he guided her across the floor.
“I do not think she wishes to be interrupted,” Lucas said, relieved at the easy excuse to stay with Journey. “Not even for the good luck of dancing with me.”
“I think you’re right.” Journey too sounded relieved. “Looks like she’s had her good luck already.”
The orchestra finished the waltz, and Lucas brought them to a graceful halt.
He released her hand, stepped back, and turned to the orchestra. Catching the eye of the conductor, he made a small gesture of his hand: Another.
The conductor nodded, and the orchestra struck up another waltz.
Lucas bowed and offered her his hand again. “May I have the next dance?”
With a delighted smile, Journey curtsied. “You may.”
Their second dance was as enchanting as their first. So was their third. And their fourth. The conductor caught on to Lucas’s intent, and had the orchestra play only tunes that would be easy for a foreigner – waltzes and folk tunes whose simple dances could easily be learned on the fly by a good dancer with a strong partner.
Lucas and Journey danced and talked, mostly about her travels. Her favorite place in Europe, outside of Brandusa, was Venice; his favorite was Vienna. The coincidence of the V amused them in a manner Lucas recognized from seeing other new couples’ delight at sharing some trivial similarity. He’d once heard Ellie and Hal enraptured by the discovery that they both loved root beer and hated Dr. Pepper. Lucas had thought it a ridiculous topic for a fifteen-minute conversation. Now he understood.
As their fourth dance concluded, Lucas stepped back. As he began to bow and offer Journey his hand, a cold voice said, “Your highness?”
Lucas straightened and turned. Grand Duke Vaclav stood on one side of him, and Raluca’s uncle, Duke Constantine, on the other. Grand Duke Vaclav wore a familiar expression of chilly disapproval, while Duke Constantine seemed to be repressing outright anger.
“It is good luck to dance with the prince. It is not better luck to dance with the prince four times.” Grand Duke Vaclav shot a contemptuous glance at Journey, making Lucas’s blood flash into steam.
“I asked her to dance,” Lucas replied, trying to keep his voice even. “You will address your concerns to me.”
Duke Constantine broke in, “Princess Raluca, your betrothed, is charming the people of Brandusa with her efforts to meet and dance with the guests.”
Lucas was watching Journey, not Duke Constantine. When the duke mentioned Raluca, Journey flinched as if she’d been slapped.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking from Duke Constantine to Grand Duke Vaclav to Lucas. “Lu— Prince Lucas, it was wonderful to meet you. I’ll never forget it. And I won’t keep you any longer.”
She stepped back, her lovely green eyes clouded with sorrow.
Fool, Lucas’s dragon roared. You missed your chance to explain. Now our mate is leaving us. Quick, stop her before it’s too late!
Hot blood rushed to Lucas’s head. His dragon was so loud, he could barely hear himself think. How dare Grand Duke Vaclav look at his mate with such contempt! How dare Duke Constantine try to separate them!
“Grand Duke Vaclav, Duke Constantine, leave us. Now!” Lucas put the chill of command into his voice.
The men gave him a final pair of glares, then marched off. Journey started to follow them.
Lucas caught her hand. “Journey, stay with me.”
To his dismay, she eyed him warily. “No, they’re right. I should go. It’s your engagement ball.”
Lucas gritted his teeth. All his careful planning had evaporated in a puff of smoke. Now he had to explain quickly, before he lost her trust forever. “Journey, wait. It’s an arranged marriage. Raluca and I don’t love each other.”
She detached her hand from his grip. “I’m sorry, but that’s between you and the princess. And I’m sorry I led you on. I don’t know what I was thinking— I got carried away. But I have to go now.”
Stop her! His dragon’s roar nearly deafened him.
“No, wait! It’s not what you think!” Lucas heard his voice rise, louder than he’d intended. He never sounded like that, ever— out of control, frantic— but he couldn’t stop himself. “Now that I’ve met you, there won’t be any engagement. I love you, Journey. Raluca will understand—”
The look Journey gave him made him feel like he’d been stabbed in the heart. Worse. She looked like he’d stabbed her in the heart.
“I’m so stupid,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him. “You can run away from home, but you can never run away from yourself. I swore I’d never again fall for a charming liar, and here I am with another one.”
The pain in her voice struck Lucas dumb. Before he could say anything, she went on, “And my job! I completely forgot why I’m even here!”
She looked around wildly, then bolted across the dance floor. Lucas took a step toward her.
“Are you all right?” It was a voice like crystal. Raluca stood beside him, looking concerned. “I saw you having some sort of confrontation with Grand Duke Vaclav and my uncle, and then some red-headed woman ran away...”
“That ‘red-headed woman’ was my mate!”
“Oh!” Raluca first looked shocked, then delighted. “Lucas, how wonderful! But where did she go?”
Lucas followed her gaze. Journey was gone.
Chapter Four
Journey
Journey fled across the dance floor, trying and failing to keep tears from her eyes.
The ball had turned on a dime from being the best night of her life to one of the worst. How could she have forgotten, even for an hour, that charming Prince Lucas was about to get engaged? How could she have let herself slip from enjoying his company as one of the many lucky women who got to meet the prince, to flirting with him— wanting him— imagining that she could have him?
But the worst part had been when she’d realized that she could have him... if she was willing to sacrifice her integrity for a sleazy fling with a silver-tongued cheater.
Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!
Journey angrily dashed the tears from her eyes. And, momentarily blinded, she tripped over someone’s foot.
“
Sorry,” she gasped, her arms flying out to catch herself.
Several people grabbed her before she could fall. But her foot came down hard and at an angle against the marble floor. The wooden heel of her left shoe snapped off.
“Oh, goddammit!” Journey exclaimed.
She took off her shoes and picked them up along with the heel, then stood barefoot on the cold floor, looking around for Stefania. She was nowhere to be seen. But near where Journey had seen her last was a small door, presumably to one of the side rooms Mrs. Florescu had warned her about.
Journey bolted for the door, then flung it open.
The room was exactly what she had imagined: very small but luxuriously furnished, with a velvet loveseat just big enough for two. Stefania and the young man she’d been dancing with all night were draped over it and each other, kissing passionately.
“Stefania!” Journey exclaimed.
The couple sprang apart, looking flushed and guilty.
Normally Journey would have simply told them to get back on the dance floor. But now, with her own misery and frustrated passion and longing to get as far away from Lucas as possible swirling within her, she snapped, “Stefania, this is exactly what your parents forbade. Come with me. We’re going home.”
“Noooooo,” Stefania wailed. “One more dance!”
The young man stepped forward. He was no older than Stefania, from the looks of him, but more self-possessed. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. We’ll stay on the dance floor.”
“The dance is over. Come on.” Journey caught Stefania by the hand.
The young man snatched up Stefania’s free hand, gave it a hasty kiss, and said, “I’ll call on you tomorrow. Don’t worry, I can charm even the fiercest mother.”
This seemed to console Stefania, who cast him a coquettish smile over her shoulder. “You needn’t ask permission from my parents, Doru. Tomorrow I’ll be eighteen!”
Journey hurried Stefania outside, past the guards and down the marble steps, and into their waiting carriage. She felt worse and worse as the coach clattered across the cobblestones. She’d not only ruined her own evening, she’d also ruined Stefania’s. Journey could have simply extracted her from the private room— she hadn’t needed to drag Stefania away from the ball. It had been wrong of her to take her own unhappiness out on her charge. As for her own feelings, she could suck them up for one more hour.
Journey wiped her eyes again. Once she got control of her breath, she’d turn the carriage around. Then she saw that while she still had the heel in her hand, she’d dropped the broken dancing shoe.
It was the last straw. Journey burst into tears.
“Journey!” Stefania exclaimed. “Whatever is the matter?”
Journey couldn’t bring herself to confess what had happened between her and Prince Lucas. Instead, she gasped out, “I broke the heel on one of your mother’s shoes and then I lost it... And I was mean to you... And I have to leave Brandusa and go back to Lummox and I don’t know if I can ever come back!”
Stefania hugged her. “Oh, Journey, my mother won’t care about the shoes. And I forgive you. And you’ll come back some day, I know you will. If I marry Doru, we’ll keep a guest room just for you!”
Journey hugged Stefania back. Whatever else happened, at least she had a friend. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that some day. Listen, Stefania, I don’t want go back to the ball. I... um... I’d be embarrassed to go barefoot. But I shouldn’t have taken you away. You turn eighteen at midnight, and it’s almost midnight now. If you swear on your honor that you’ll stay in the ballroom and come home once the ball is over, I’ll let you go back.”
“I swear on my honor,” Stefania said instantly, touching her fingers to her temples where a crown would press.
The coach pulled up in front of the Florescus’ house. Journey got out, gave the coachman his instructions, and waved goodbye to Stefania. The coach clattered away, back to the palace.
Journey went inside the darkened home. She sat down on her bed, but couldn’t imagine sleeping. Finally, she put on a pair of her own shoes and went back outside to get some fresh air.
The neighborhood was especially beautiful in the moonlight. The steepled roofs and narrow roads were like an illustration from a fairytale.
She was all alone. Brandusans were not often night owls, and everyone was either asleep or at the ball. But she wasn’t afraid. She knew the neighborhood well. It was very safe, and if anyone bothered her, one scream would send everyone rushing out of their houses.
Lost in thought, Journey walked and walked until, with a start, she realized that she had left the houses behind. She’d walked all the way to the broad main road that ran between the residential neighborhoods and the woods that bordered the river.
She glanced into the woods. They were dark, but not too dark to walk through on this bright night. And she’d like to see the river by moonlight, one last time.
Journey made her way through the woods and to the sandy riverbank. There she stood a while in thought, looking out at the shimmering waters. When it had become clear that she wouldn’t find another job, the Florescus had invited her to stay in their home as a guest for the week after Stefania turned eighteen. She had agreed at the time, but all she wanted now was to make a clean break— with Brandusa, with her year of travel and freedom, and with Lucas.
As soon as the sun rose, she’d go to the airport and get on the first flight back to America.
Chapter Five
Lucas
Lucas looked wildly around the ballroom. Journey was nowhere to be seen.
He’d finally, finally met his mate, and she’d been so much more wonderful than he’d ever imagined. And she’d decided that he was a liar and a cheater, and fled from him as if he was her worst nightmare.
Lucas buried his face in his hands and groaned.
Then he pulled himself together. He could still convince her. She might not believe him, but surely she’d believe Raluca.
He quickly explained what had happened, then said, “Come with me. I’ll find her and then you can help me explain about the engagement.”
They hurried across the dance floor in the direction he’d last seen Journey running, but she was nowhere to be found. Finally, they went outside and asked the guards at the doors if they’d seen a red-haired woman leave.
“Yes, your highness,” replied a guard. “I tried to stop her, but she and her companion jumped into a carriage and left.”
“Her companion?” asked Raluca.
“A very young woman in a red dress,” replied the guard.
“Why did you try to stop her?” Lucas inquired.
“She dropped her shoe.” The guard held up a dancing shoe of black wood and green leather. “She was barefoot and carrying them— see, the heel is broken off.”
Lucas took the shoe, running his fingers over the polished wood and soft leather. As a memento of Journey, the ordinary object felt unexpectedly precious to him.
Mischievously, Raluca suggested, “Now all you need to do is have every woman in the kingdom try it on and see who it fits.”
Lucas wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “That won’t be necessary. I know who she is.” To the guard, he said, “Show me the guest list.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the guards all looking incredibly curious. Raluca noticed too, and haughtily informed them, “The crown prince of Brandusa takes a personal interest in the welfare of every single one of his subjects. Even an ordinary guest whom he merely spotted running away as if something had upset her. Of course he wishes to know what went wrong for her at his ball.”
The guards hastily said, “Of course, your highness,” and “Very kind, your highness,” and “Didn’t mean to look nosy, your highness.”
One of them shoved the guest list at him, eyes averted. Lucas scanned the list until he found her: Journey Jacobson, guest of Stefania Florescu. He memorized her address, which was in a quiet neighborhood near the river.
Even out of the
ballroom, Lucas felt smothered and spied-on and claustrophobic. The guards’ fixed stares at anywhere but him only made him feel their presence more acutely.
“Let us take a stroll around the garden,” he suggested.
“What a lovely idea,” Raluca replied. “It’s such a beautiful night.”
He led her into the winter garden. In its own season it was a popular place to stroll, with the quince trees in full red bloom, shining against the snow like bursts of flame. In spring it was a dull place with nothing in flower. No one else was likely to go there, which made it an excellent location for a private talk.
The night was cool and the moon was nearly full. A brisk breeze blew, making Raluca’s skirts flutter. For the first time since Lucas’s dance had been interrupted, he felt his head clear.
“You found your mate, Lucas. I’m so happy for you!” Hesitantly, Raluca asked, “What’s it really like?”
All the shock and joy and wonder of that first sight of Journey came back to him with almost as much force as when it had happened. “Like nothing you can imagine. I don’t know how to describe it. I think it’s something you have to experience to understand.”
Wistfully, Raluca said, “I hope I do, some day.”
“Now that you don’t have to marry me, you probably will.”
“Perhaps.” She didn’t look as happy as he’d expected. “Or perhaps a marriage will be arranged between me and one of your cousins. My uncle is very determined to have this alliance go through.”
“So is my great-uncle,” Lucas said with a sigh. He wanted to tell her to refuse a second arrangement. But he knew all too well that it was not so simple.
Two voices spoke at once from behind them.
“Lucas.” The cold voice belonged to Grand Duke Vaclav.
“Raluca!” The angry voice belonged to Duke Constantine.
Lucas and Raluca turned around. And faced not only his great-uncle and Raluca’s uncle, but King Andrei and Queen Livia.