by Julie Berry
He stood opposite me, offering me his arms. "Shall we?" I put my hands in his. "The other girls, Miss Peters, I regret to say, have been taught they must wait to be asked."
Oh. All the blood drained from my face. I tried to follow Gregor's steps, despairing. All the while, his pockets were a full arm's length away. "I didn't have time to wait," I said.
"How lucky for me," was his enigmatic reply. The corners of his mouth twitched. I studied his face, trying to determine whether he was mocking me. Well, of course he was mocking me, but with good humor or not, I couldn't tell. I didn't dare look too often at his face, lest I lose my head completely.
The gypsy music forced upon us a lively dancing pace that Gregor negotiated easily, but it left my petticoats in a tangle and put me at risk of toppling. I watched his feet, then looked down at my own, but they were lost in a sea of 129
skirts. Whenever I glanced at Gregor, there was that suppressed laughter again. Curse his pampered hide, not everyone had spent a lifetime in lessons! How's a girl to pick a dancing prince's pocket when she can't even match his steps?
"You're no help," I said, too vexed to care whether or not he knew it. "Teach me!"
"First a dance, and now a lesson," he said. "You're a demanding creature, Miss Peters. Will there be anything else, while I'm at it? An invitation to dinner?"
"It's too late for dinner," I snapped. "All I need is one dance, with you." Too late, I realized how brazen this sounded. I scrambled to save myself. "After this, I won't trouble you anymore."
Gregor raised my arm high and twirled me around. "That," he said, "would be unfortunate." Then he altered the dance. His arm went behind my waist, and my other hand, now free, had nowhere to rest but on his shoulder. I leaned my head back and watched the constellations revolve overhead till they blurred together. My whole body tingled with heat and shock at this frightening, dreamlike sensation of dancing close to a painfully beautiful young man. Who was gazing down at me.
Then he stopped. A thought seemed to strike him. "Has someone put you up to this, Miss Peters? Is this a wager, or a joke?"
130
My conscience stung me. I remembered my bargain with Peter. Not quite a wager, but nearly.
"No," I said. "No wager. No joke."
Gregor rejoined the music, taking a grave hop-step to one side and then back to me. "Then what reason could you have," he mused, "for insisting upon a dance?"
Did he want me to say it was because he was handsome? I'd not give him that satisfaction. "Perhaps I'm a foreign spy, sent to observe the prince," I said. Gregor's eyes sparkled. "Or," he said, "perhaps you're a common thief, come to pick my pockets."
I laughed, rather too shrilly, avoiding his eyes. My skin went slick with guilty sweat. "You've found me out."
Gregor flashed his magic smile, then pinned me with his sober gaze once more. "Why did you ask me to dance tonight?"
I had run out of lies. "Because," I said, my heart pounding, "tomorrow night would be too late."
I didn't dare look at him. Then, I couldn't help it. He was so close, the tip of his nose brushed mine. His breath was warm on my cheek. His eyes... He caught himself suddenly, stiffened, pulled away. "Pardon me. I... I was trying to hear you better. The noise... But I'm neglecting your dancing lesson! Er, the name of this step is the pas cabriolé, and it's done by..." He taught me until I'd done a passable pas cabriolé, a capering sort of step. 131
"Excellent!" he cried after a dismal attempt or two. I smiled back. He squeezed my hand. "Tomorrow's not too late for a dancing lesson. Come to the ball. We can continue our lessons there."
He wanted to see me again.
At the palace ball.
It was a lovely dream, but...
"Prince Gregor," I said, standing stock-still, "I can't. Tomorrow night is for the princess."
He seemed to lose an inch in height, but his grip on my waist tightened. All the same," he said. "Come. Please."
I stalled for a clever reply. "I don't know if I'm interested in such dull company as the palace ball."
I felt, more than heard, the laughter in his chest. Suddenly I remembered my errand. This close, could I get my hand inside his pocket without him noticing? Maybe. But the music lulled me. Why risk it and wreck this moment? The stone wasn't going anywhere.
The song ended, and another began, slow and melancholy. I waited, breathless, for him to end our dancing, but before I'd heard two bars of the new tune, both of Gregor's arms were around me. I could feel his pulse in his jaw as he pressed his face next to mine.
"Thank you for demanding a dance, Miss Angelica Peters," he said in my ear. "I don't know when I've enjoyed myself more."
My body pounded inside its skin, like a windup toy in
132
a box. The bristles on his chin scraped against my cheek. I breathed in once more the scent of his cologne, and mint, and the fur trim on his coat. My eyes blurred. Swinging lanterns became dancing stars. The cold air melted into delicious heat.
We danced.
Somewhere in that song, I crossed a line in the sand. There would be no turning back. The thought of this night ending, the musicians packing up and going home to bed, taking with them my excuse to dance with Gregor, was more awful than I could bear. What did cold stones matter on a night like this? Dear one, I cannot do to you the deed I intended to. For the gift of this moment, I will let you keep my only chance to be the somebody you suppose I am.
I will not steal the stone.
Drunk with longing, I wanted to give him something, a token of truth to remember me by.
"Call me... Lucinda, please," I said, suddenly shy. "It's the name my mother used for me." The only name she ever used for me.
"Lucinda," he said, experimentally. "Lucinda. Yes. It suits you." Why did I feel more a liar than before? "I prefer it over Angelica," I said. "So do I."
I shivered again, and Gregor stopped dancing, looking
133
at me with concern. He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over my shoulders.
"Wait here," he said. "I'll get you some punch."
I slid my arms inside the coat, feeling his warmth all over it. I watched his shirted back as he pressed toward one of the bonfires, where a brazier of hot wine simmered in the coals. The fire glowed around the edges of his shape, like a halo.
I buried my face in his ermine fur collar and tried to breathe in some of the happiness hanging like stardust in the air.
My fingers pulled the lapels tightly around me, and as they did, I felt a heavy lump in the inner pocket. Beryl's stone.
***
I can't do this to him!
He'd handed me the chance. He'd never know. In spite of the onlookers, no one would see my hand slip out from under his jacket with a gem clenched in my fist.
I'd sworn to myself that I would not do it, but fate had intervened. Perhaps the stone itself, imbued with Beryl's power, intended to return to its owner. Perhaps when I resumed my rightful place in society I could restore to Gregor the loss I was now imposing upon him. Perhaps we could remain friends. Perhaps he'd need a friend who made him laugh.
134
Perhaps my life would be unendurable if I could never see Gregor again. And I surely never would, with neither a home nor a penny to my name. He was coming back, friendly concern for me written across his face. Under the cover of his coat, my fingers dug inside the pocket and pulled up the stone. I clenched it in my fist just as Gregor reached my side.
"Drink this," he said, handing me a steaming cup. I took it with my remaining hand and sipped too quickly, burning my lips.
"Careful," he said.
He raised his glass. "To Miss Peters--to Lucinda--may she live long and healthy, and may she dance with me again soon."
He watched my face nervously. My guilt swelled with each heartbeat, but somehow, I smiled back at him. He grinned back, relieved, and drank from his cup. Then he bent forward and swiftly kissed my cheek. The soft, damp touch lingered long after
his lips were gone.
Beryl's stone burned in my hand. Thief! He kisses you, and you're robbing him? Murmurs and laughs around us showed that others had seen him kiss me. He put his arm around me as if defying the crowd. He might defy them, but I wanted away from all those staring eyes.
"I'd better go," I said. "Thank you for the dancing
135
lesson. And for your coat." I slid my arms out, clutching my fist tightly so he couldn't see what it held.
"Wait! Don't go yet," he said, reluctant to take back his coat. I had to flee, and yet, I couldn't leave without him knowing. I pushed the coat toward him, stood on tiptoe, heedless now of the whistles and jeers around me.
I heard the swift intake of his breath as my lips brushed his cheek. "Good-bye," I whispered in his ear.
He clutched my arm. "Wait! Where do you live? How can I find you, send you a message?"
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rolf approaching, worry written upon his face. Did Gregor's guards feel they should protect the prince from foolish love affairs, too?
"Thank you for tonight," I said. "I'll always remember it. But you don't need to find me. You know that."
"Your Highness," Rolf said, now standing beside Gregor, "it's time for us to go."
At the sight of his guard, Gregor deflated. He sighed.
"Rolf, do you remember meeting Miss Peters before?" Gregor asked. "Because I could swear I have, before today. And you're always there wherever I go, like a dratted nuisance, so if I'd seen her, you would have too."
Rolf took a long sideways look at me, and shook his head. "Can't say I have ever seen her, Highness."
136
I curtsyed to Gregor. "Thank you for the dance," I said. "I am most honored." "The honor is all mine," Gregor said bitterly. "Come to the ball?" Rolf's eyes darted toward the prince's face.
It was time to go. No sense prolonging the moment, and no wish to, with Rolf's eyes on me. I squeezed Beryl's gem until my fingers ached. Now was the time to flee.
"Good evening, sirs," I said, curtsying once more. I turned to go, taking the first step toward success and freedom. Why, then, was it so hard to leave? Yet with each step my confidence swelled, my spirits rose. I'd done it! I'd danced with him, I'd kissed him, and he me. He loved me, if only for a moment, and on top of all that, I'd gotten Beryl's gem back! There must have been an enchantment in the air tonight. Some star had smiled kindly upon me. I quickened my steps. The flock of wolves held no terror for me now. Not while Gregor cared for me. Impossible, unbelievable miracle, beyond explanation, but true! He cared for me. I could have flown home.
I searched for Peter's face. Still no sight of him. Gladly, gladly would I give him Beryl's gold now. And we would celebrate!
There he was, watching for me. I shook a triumphant fist in the air, and he grinned. I quickened my steps and ran toward him. Good old Peter, that scalawag, no liar was ever a truer friend. And all the strangers in the crowd--marvelous people! I loved them, too. Love was everywhere 137
tonight. It flowed through me with plenty to spare for everyone. Gregor had kissed me! I could still feel the mark. I could feel how his whiskers had tickled my lips when I kissed him back.
A whistle pierced the darkness.
"Stop!" a deep voice roared. "Stop in the name of the king!"
I paused, looking around, wondering what had happened. A fight, perhaps? "Thief!" a woman's voice cried. "Thief!"
A cold shock went over me. Please, heaven, let it be a woman whose earring was stolen.
Somehow, I didn't think so.
The voices and footsteps came nearer, and nearer. No sign of Peter now. I looked for a way to run, but now the crowd pressed thick around me, everyone looking to see what was wrong. I felt trapped in a labyrinth. If only these cobbled stones would open a crack and hide me! I tried to push forward, but a rough hand grabbed my wrist and spun me around.
A huge, thick-jawed constable stared down at me. Behind him a woman's shrill voice reached the skies.
"I saw her!" she yelled. "Bold as you please, dancing with the prince, then picking his coat pockets while he got her a drink!"
The hand that held the gem went numb. No place to hide it now.
"Let's see your hand there, girl," the constable ordered.
138
Trembling, I let my hand be taken and pried open. "That ain't yours, I'll wager," he said, seizing the stone. "Is this what you saw her take, Madam?" He turned and showed the stone to my accuser, who stepped forward into the beam of a lantern held by a curious onlooker.
"That's it, all right," said Aunt.
139
Chapter 16
The sight of her face was worse than any nightmare. Hot tears stung my eyes. "Crying won't help you none," barked the constable. "That's a hanging offense, that is. Robbing royalty." He shook his head.
I looked to the woman I called Aunt, in whose home I'd served for ten years. Did she know me? Of course she did. Recognition and revenge blazed in her eyes. What was she doing here? Drinking Uncle's death away? She quivered with excitement.
Behind her, a commotion moved its way closer. Lanterns swung by eager onlookers converged upon me like moths to a flame. With a sickening heart I saw the prince and his guards approach. Gregor talked and smiled and pointed at me. With despair I realized he thought he was about to clear up a jolly mistake involving his new friend, Miss Peters. I hid my face behind my empty hands.
140
"Name?" the constable demanded.
Who was I?
Not this girl who'd been arrested for theft.
Angelica Peters, I thought to say. But Aunt spared me the trouble. "Lucinda Chapdelaine," she announced to half the city.
Voices and laughter stilled. Even the music had stopped. All was silent, save for a rustle of whispers like wind through grass. The wolves and vixens stood in an accusing circle around me that stretched to the edge of the city common. If the sky had fallen on me, I could not have felt more suffocated. The constable turned, surprised. "You know her?"
I felt a nudge at my ankles. It was Dog. My only friend. Hot tears spilled from my eyes.
"What's all this?" came a new voice. I looked. There stood Gregor, and beside him, to my great shock, was his father, King Hubert, whose image I knew from every coin that ever passed through our shop. It was he who spoke. "What did you say her name was?"
"Lucinda Chapdelaine," Aunt said, swelling like a bullfrog.
"Swiped this off the prince," the constable said, holding up Beryl's gem for all to see. A ripple of admiration ran around the ring of watchers. Gregor's stricken face leaped out at me.
The king strode forward. The crowd parted before him.
141
He lifted my chin and looked into my face. "Chapdelaine, he said. "Not... August and Olivia Chapdelaine's child?"
"The very same," Aunt said, nodding.
My dream flooded back upon me, the memory of the banquet my parents hosted, where the king had promised me two dances with the prince. The sticky-faced prince who'd drunk too much punch.
His promise had been kept.
"Your Majesty," I said. "Please, let me explain."
King Hubert paid me no attention but turned and looked at Aunt. His face was puzzled. Aunt's shabby gray dress and shawl did not, apparently, fit with Mama's fancy clothes.
"How do you know this young lady?" he asked her.
She curtsyed deeply. "If it please Your Highness, she was my dear departed husband's niece, by marriage. I raised her up ever since her parents died bankrupt and left her penniless."
Beat me down, more like. It was only Uncle who gave me any hope worth living for.
"And you say that you saw her stealing something from my son?"
She nodded. "She's a thief by nature. I kicked her out of my house two days ago for stealing right out from under my nose at my goldsmith's shop. She didn't have a penny, Your Highness. Those clothes she's got on are stolen, sure as anything."
142
>
I watched Gregor. At the words "goldsmith's shop," he blinked. I saw his lips form the word "Lucinda." At last. He remembered the amusing girl from the shop. His eyes were full of bewilderment and betrayal.
"You kicked her out without a penny?" King Hubert asked.
Aunt cleared her throat. "She'd stolen from me, sire. Family heirlooms, and all the gold in the till."
"I did not!" I cried.
The constable seized the purse of gold from my waist and ripped it off. "Got a sackful of it here," he said, fingering the contents of the bag. Aunt gasped. "Why, that's my purse and all! Robbing the widow what cared for her when she was a poor orphan. Have you ever heard the like?"
The king looked at me. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
His face was unreadable, but at least, unlike Aunt's and the constable's, it wasn't full of loathing for me.
I looked at Gregor as I spoke.
"I never stole a thing from this woman in my life," I said with all the force I could summon. "I am wrongfully accused. A thief broke into her home and took some heirlooms, and she accused me. Nobody robbed the till. There was nothing in it to take."
The king gestured to the constable, who handed him Beryl's gem. 143
"Gregor," he called. The prince stepped forward. "Is this yours?" Oh, please. You could save me, Prince. I begged him silently to look at me, but he would not.
"Yes, my lord," Gregor said after a pause.
So be it, then.
The king waved the gem under my nose. "Now, young lady, in the presence of all these witnesses, tell the truth. It will go better for you. Did you steal this from my son?"
I tried to moisten my tongue. I closed my eyes to block the hateful sight of all those accusing eyes. All evidence was against me, and there were no friends to rescue me. No Peter. My only friend was a goat.
I opened my eyes. "I did steal it, Your Highness," I said. "But if you'll permit me, I can explain."
The king shook his head sadly. "I can't tell you how this pains me, Miss Chapdelaine," he said. "Your parents were my good friends. To see their child come to this end is a deep source of grief."
"Her parents were dishonest, too," Aunt piped up. "Died in default on spurious loans. All that high living on credit and fraud!"