Disenchanted

by Susan Carroll

  The carved, half-circle shelf boasted no more than a single miniature portrait. I needed to keep searching for the orb, but my curiosity was roused. Whose image did our tyrant king cherish so much that he would give it pride of place above all the other treasure in that room?

  I expected that it would turn out to be a painting of the king’s most beloved son and heir, Prince Florian. As I drew nearer, I saw that it was a miniature of a lovely young woman with soft golden tresses. My breath hitched in my throat as I recognized her gentle features, that warm, sweet smile.

  It was my mother.

  I picked up the small oval painting to examine it. It was so like the miniature of my mother that belonged to my father, I felt a flash of rage, wondering when and how the king had managed to steal it.

  But I realized that was impossible. My father’s portrait of Mama was locked away in the bottom drawer of his desk. I had seen it only recently when I had been searching for a fresh bottle of ink.

  As I studied the miniature, I perceived subtle differences between it and my father’s portrait. My mother looked younger in this one and there was a blue ribbon threaded through her hair. How did the king come to have such a thing? This cameo was the sort of token a young woman would only bestow upon someone that she cared for deeply. I could not believe that any sort of affection had ever existed between my mother and a man as selfish and cruel as King August. And yet…

  I recalled August’s strange reaction to me earlier during the reception, the way his eyes had misted as he stared at me. Your mother was the loveliest, most enchanting woman I have ever known. And you…you look so very much like her. Is that not true, Majordomo? Is not this girl Cecily’s very image?

  Except for her eyes, the king’s quiet little servant had replied. I do believe she has her father’s eyes.

  The king had recoiled from me as though I had transformed into a hissing snake.

  I cradled the portrait in the palm of my hand and wondered. Was it possible that the king had fancied himself in love with my mother and ordered this portrait to be painted? Was that the original source of the enmity that had existed between August and my father—the fact that my father had been the one to win my mother’s heart?

  The king could never have had any serious intentions toward my mother, a mere forest warder’s daughter. August had been wed and widowed three times, once to a princess and then to two grand duchesses. Those royal brides had all shared two traits: they were blond

  and they were wealthy, bringing a hefty dowry to fill the Helavalerian coffers. Any tender sentiment the king might have cherished for my mother would have been overcome by his avarice.

  Of course, this was all speculation on my part. I had no way of knowing what had happened between the king and my mother and father all those years ago, just more of the mystery that surrounded my parents’ past.

  All the same, I loathed the idea of the king possessing this miniature of my mother. When he stole into this chamber to gloat over his treasure, did he sigh over Mama’s portrait, perhaps even fondle it with his fat, sweaty fingers? The thought sickened me. My own fingers tightened about the miniature. I longed to shove it into my hidden pocket and carry it away with me, but I dared not.

  Of all the objects in this room, the portrait would be missed, alerting the king that an intruder had been here. Despite my undetectable aura, the theft of my mother’s portrait would be a crime that could be traced back to me. I forced myself to return the miniature to its shelf.

  Having to abandon Mama’s portrait disheartened me. I continued to search for the orb, but it felt hopeless. I had no idea how much time had lapsed since I had first entered the room, but this was taking me much too long. Beads of sweat gathered on my brow, in part due to the closeness of the chamber, but mainly owing to my mounting anxiety.

  Order could have been restored to the ballroom by now. Those two bored young guards might be back at their posts. How would I ever get back through the arch without drawing attention to myself? What if Horatio had noticed my absence and instituted a search?

  If I was caught in the treasure room itself, there would be no plausible excuse I could offer. I would be clapped in irons and hauled off immediately to the deepest dungeon in the King’s Royal Prison. Not even Horatio would be able to save me and perhaps he would be so disgusted to discover I was a thief, he would not even try.

  I hated to give up, after the risk I had already taken. But I did not see that I had much choice. I started to make my way toward the door, when the light of my candles reflected off the top of something that could have been glass.

  The object was shoved to the very back of a shelf, hidden behind a plethora of beautiful figurines depicting fairies, elves and sprites. My heart quickened with hope. I set the branch of candles down atop a stack of heavy leather-bound books that looked like ledgers.

  Carefully, I shifted the figurines, clearing a path through the fairy folk. There it was at last. The orb nestled upon a blue velvet cushion set beneath a glass dome coated with a fine film of dust.

  At one time, perhaps the orb had been prominently displayed, just as the footman had told Mal. As the king had acquired new treasures, the glass dome must have been relegated to the back of the shelf. Just another possession to the king, but one that meant the world to Mal, a cherished memento of his wizard grandfather.

  My throat thickened with emotion as I imagined Mal’s joy when I restored the orb to him. But I could not give myself up to feelings of relief just yet, not until the orb was safely in my pocket and I had managed to sneak back into the ballroom undetected.

  I drew the glass dome closer to me, my palms damp with perspiration inside my gloves. I wished I could have removed them, but even with an unregistered aura, it would be unwise to leave finger marks all over the glass.

  I lifted the dome off carefully lest I drop it, shattering glass everywhere. Despite my slippery gloves, I succeeded in removing the dome from its base. Setting it aside, I delved into my pocket and produced the fake orb. Mal had pulled off an astonishing feat, producing an exact copy. I certainly could not discern any difference between them. I switched the orbs, tucking the real one into my hidden pocket. I replaced the glass dome and nudged it to the rear of the shelf. I arranged the fairy figurines in front of it, trying to put them back in the same positions I had found them.

  I was dismayed to realize that I had dislodged the layers of dust, but hopefully, a new coating would settle before the king noticed anything amiss. Blowing out a deep breath, I allowed myself a moment of relief.

  “There, Malcolm Hawkridge,” I murmured. “Never say I don’t keep my birthday promises.”

  Snatching up the candlestick, I headed for the door. As I passed beneath the dragon head, the light glinted strangely off the creature’s glassy eyes. The back of my neck prickled and for a moment, I had the eeriest sensation the dragon was staring at me. I shook off the ridiculous notion as I snuffed out the wicks on the candelabrum and put it back where I had found it.

  I groped for the door handle in the dim light of the wizard’s lantern. I started to ease it open when I drew up short, realizing I was on the verge of forgetting my shoes. That would have been a disastrous and costly mistake.

  I grabbed up my dancing slippers. Inching the door open, I took a cautious peek down the corridor. It was as deserted as before. I stepped through the opening and quietly closed the door behind me. The king’s portrait settled back into place. No one looking at it would ever guess that there was a treasure room hidden behind it or that I had been in there.

  Despite my tension, I felt an odd thrill course through me. I recognized it for what it was, the excitement I had experienced whenever Mal and I had succeeded in pulling off some outrageous bit of mischief. I kept insisting to him that reckless, adventurous girl I had once been was gone. Perhaps a trace of the old, daring Ella remained, I thought with a grin. I set off down the corridor with a spring in my step. All caution was forgotten as I whipped around the corner
into the main hall.

  And walked head on into Horatio Crushington.

  Chapter 16

  My shoes dropped from my nerveless fingers to the floor. I could not breathe, could not move, as though if I remained still enough Horatio would not notice me. A rather irrational notion since my nose was flattened against his chest.

  I stumbled back a step as I gazed, stricken, up at him. My lips parted but no words came. My brain seemed to have shut down as well. Despite being immobilized by sheer panic, one realization penetrated my frozen mind. Horatio looked nearly as shocked as I felt.

  “Ella,” he gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, I—I—” I babbled. I noticed the bruise darkening his eye and momentarily forgot all else. “Oh, you have been hurt.”

  I reached up to caress his cheek.

  “It’s nothing,” he said. He closed his eyes, sighing at my touch. Then he removed my hand from his face and eyed me sternly. “You did not answer my question. What are you doing in this part of the palace? Don’t you know it is forbidden?”

  “Is it?” I widened my eyes, trying to look both innocent and appalled. I have never been as glib a liar as Mal. I had to moisten my dry lips before I went on. “Well, ah—you did order me to stay out of the way of the fighting.”

  “The fight is over and I never meant for you to come here.”

  “But the entryway was not guarded, so how should I know I was not allowed to come this way? I was so alarmed and confused that I blundered beneath the arch to hide and…and then I saw all these suits of armor and was intrigued by them, so I thought there was no harm in doing a little exploring and…and…”

  I trailed off. I saw by the skeptical arch of his eyebrows that Horatio did not believe a word I was saying. Seeking to distract him from questioning me further, I asked, “If this area is off-limits, why are you here?”

  “I am a garrison commander, one of the king’s loyal Scutcheons. Unlike you, I am allowed to be here.”

  “So you came looking for me?”

  “No, I had no idea where you had vanished. I was looking for Sidney Greenleaf.”

  “Mercato?” I cast a panicked look around me. The thought that I could have blundered into the king’s formidable wizard instead of Horatio chilled me to the bone. “Mercato is lurking somewhere near here?”

  “I doubt that he is ‘lurking,’ ” Horatio replied drily. “But yes, I saw Greenleaf come this way and I urgently need to speak to him.”

  Greenleaf? That was the second time Horatio had dared to call Mercato by his real name. Was he on such intimate terms with the king’s powerful wizard? I found the idea a little disturbing.

  “Why were you looking for Mercato?” I asked.

  “I need to speak with him. Because of that foolishness in the ballroom, the entire Hanson family and a few other Midtown citizens have been arrested by the palace guard. Besides the king, the wizard is the only one with the power to contravene that order. If I cannot convince Sidney—” Horatio caught himself this time and amended, “Mercato to release the prisoners into my custody, their punishment could end up being dire indeed.”

  I shuddered, afraid to imagine what would happen to Myrtle and her family if they were hauled off to the Dismal Dungeons. And Fortescue! Had he been arrested as well?

  “Do you think you will be able to persuade Mercato?” I asked anxiously.

  “I believe so. Mercato can be reasonable at times.”

  Considering the wizard’s hysterical rage that I had witnessed, I doubted this was going to be one of those times, but I nodded in agreement.

  “Then it is urgent that you should find him as soon as possible. I must not detain you.” I tried to slip past Horatio, but he was not about to let me escape so easily.

  Stealing his arm about my waist, he pulled me gently but firmly back in front of him. “We still have not settled the matter of you being here in this restricted area.”

  “Haven’t we?” I gave a nervous laugh. “Goodness! I hope you are not planning to arrest me.”

  The stern set of his mouth softened with a slight smile. “No, of course not, but—”

  “I am so glad that you found me,” I rushed on. “I have been looking for you all evening.”

  “You have been?” Again that skeptical lift of his brows.

  “Indeed I have. We were supposed to dance, remember?”

  “I did not forget,” he replied gravely.

  “But you thought that I did. I am so sorry, Horatio. I never intended to forsake you to dance with Prince Ryland.”

  “It is all right, Ella. You need not explain. I understood. A garrison commander is of little consequence next to a prince.”

  “Perhaps to most women, but not to me. Prince Ryland caught me entirely by surprise.”

  Horatio studied my face. “Yes, I observed that His Highness appeared to have a powerful impact on you.”

  I was unable to meet Horatio’s questioning gaze. I had no wish to trot out the entire pathetic tale of my youthful folly with the boy I had known as Harper. I settled on a partial truth.

  “The prince merely reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago.”

  “It must have been someone you cared about a great deal, considering the way you kissed him,” Horatio said with a rare edge to his voice.

  When I flushed, he immediately apologized. “Forgive me, Ella. I have no right to mention that. It is none of my concern—”

  “No, please, I want to explain to you about that.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything.”

  “Yes, I do,” I insisted. “I would hate to have you believe that I am some royalty-mad doxy ready to fling herself into the embrace of the nearest prince.”

  “I never believed that of you.”

  “Good! As I said, it was only that Harper—I mean, Prince Ryland touched upon some memory from my girlhood, and before I even knew how it happened, he was kissing me. But I assure you that it meant—” I hesitated, recalling the brief rush of emotion I had experienced, that stirring of embers I had believed long burned to ash.

  “That kiss meant nothing to me,” I said firmly. “And I promise you, when I came here tonight, there was only one man I wanted to dance with.”

  I smiled up at Horatio. I am still at a loss to explain what I did next. Perhaps I merely wanted to keep Horatio distracted from returning to the subject of me wandering through the forbidden corridor. Perhaps I wanted to prove to him and myself how little Ryland’s kiss had mattered. Or perhaps it was something in the way Horatio smiled back at me, the warmth in the depths of his deep grey eyes.

  I wrapped my arms about his neck. Stretching upward, I boldly touched my lips to his. Horatio’s eyes widened for a moment. Then he drew me close, enfolding me in his embrace and returning my kiss. Kissing me in a way that I had never been kissed before. The kind of kiss that begins at your lips and curls all the way through you down to your toes.

  When he finally released me, I was breathless and even a trifle giddy.

  “Oh!” I sighed. “That was…was…”

  “Yes, it was,” Horatio agreed. His gaze was tender as he looked down at me, but surprisingly sad as he continued, “And now, Ella, perhaps you’ll tell me what you have really been doing here.”

  Still melting from his kiss, I had a mad urge to confess everything. Then I stiffened, wondering exactly who had been distracting whom. Or perhaps “seducing” was a better word.

  Horatio was so upright and honorable, I could hardly accuse him of that and yet whoever would have imagined that the stern commander was capable of kissing a girl senseless like that? Regretfully, I pulled out of his arms, trying to decide if I should stick to my original story or come up with a more plausible reason for invading the forbidden part of the palace.

  “Well, I…actually, I was…um…looking for…for…”

  I was spared the necessity of finishing my answer when a door at the end of the corridor opened. I tensed, dreading that it heral
ded the arrival of Mercato. Instead, my sister sauntered out, or perhaps “staggered” might have been a more apt description.

  If I thought Amy had seemed a bit too convivial before, my sister appeared to have reached that state Mal would have described as thoroughly pickled. She had lost all the pins and the ribbon binding up her hair and it fell about her face in a disorderly tangle. The bodice of her gown was half-slipping off her shoulder and her nose was lit up like a lighthouse beacon.

  She reeled back when she saw me, but then her lips curled upward in a silly grin. “Why, hullo, Ella.”

  I stared at her in shock, which quickly turned to consternation when I saw the frown settling over Horatio’s face. Bad enough I needed to excuse why I had been caught in forbidden territory, but now I would need to account for my sister as well. Exactly what was Amy doing here?

  I moved to interpose myself between the commander and my sister. “Amy!” I exclaimed with forced brightness. “There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you.”

  I leaned closer, hissing. “What are you doing wandering alone down here?”

  She blinked owlishly at me. “I’m not alone. I’m with my prinsh.”

  “Prinsh? I mean what prince?”

  “Why, my beloved Dashie.” Amy made a vague gesture to the empty space beside her. Her lips puckered into a frown as she looked right and then left. She tottered around in a complete circle. “Oh! I’ve lost him.”

  She tipped back her head and bellowed, “Dashie! Where are you, shweetie?”

  “Hush!” I said, casting a mortified glance back at Horatio, but my sister continued to shout.

  “Dashie! Dashie?”

  “Coming, darling,” a voice echoed back.

  One of the royal twins stumbled out of the same doorway from which Amy had appeared. He grinned. “Amy, you little minx. Look what you forgot down in Papa’s wine cellar.”

  To my complete outrage, the young prince dangled one of my sister’s garters. “We’d both be in for it if my father knew we’d been sampling his private…”