by Cora Caraway
“I think that’s enough for the day,” Nic says, dabbing at the sweat on his brow.
“Are you sure? Isn’t there still more to learn?”
“Of course there’s more, but you don’t need anything fancy. Just remember the basics, and Damon will be very impressed.”
I stretch, trying to ignore how much my feet throb. “And you’re sure there will be a ball? If you destroyed my legs for nothing, you’re going to be very sorry.”
“I’ll see you at the ball, Lady Sparrow. Class dismissed.”
Somehow I manage to hobble back to my room. As tired and sore as I am, I still want to practice the motions just one more time. That way, I have a chance of remembering them tomorrow. This ball had better be soon, or I’ll be back to box one.
I walk onto the terrace, holding my arms out in the moonlight. Breathing deep, I draw from the same inner calm I try to have while performing a heist. That seems to help. All I need to do is maintain the confidence that I can get the job done.
Stepping back, I start the Left Closed Change. Rats. I began on the wrong foot. It’s harder attempting to dance by myself. I really could use a partner. If only I had someone to practice with.
There’s a soft thump, and I turn to see a pair of glowing eyes on the stairs. They draw closer, until I can see sharp teeth and a scraggly mane from the light of my room. I stand frozen as a young male lion pads up the last of the steps.
“You weren’t exactly what I had in mind,” I whisper.
The lion makes a sound deep in his throat. It’s not quite a growl, but my body responds to the danger, backing into my room. I claw desperately for the door before I remember that only a sheer curtain separates the terrace from the bedroom. Who thought that up?
Though the curtain won’t do much, I close it anyway. I can hear the lion sniff it. He touches his nose to the fabric, and it bunches in as he pushes through. He approaches me, his yellow eyes gleaming. Is he angry? Lonely? I pray that he’s anything but hungry.
“Hello, little lion. You’re a nice kitty, aren’t you?”
His eyes are fixed on me. A swish of his tail is enough to send me clambering onto the bed. I back myself against the headboard, not daring to take my eyes off the big cat. Not like being on the bed will do me much good. Now I’m just going to die in a cozier way.
The lion leaps on the bed, making it bounce. I’m trapped now.
“It’s fine, I’m fine,” I tell myself in a manic whisper. “All I have to do is not make any sudden movements.” Or am I supposed to run for my life? They really should have covered this in school. Not that it matters now. After all that dancing, I couldn’t even outrun a sloth.
Still staring into my eyes, the lion starts kneading the bed near my calf.
“What are you doing, working up an appetite?”
The lion head-butts me in the chest. He may not be fully grown, but he’s already powerful. I think my spine is now embedded in the headboard.
“You should probably kill me that way,” I gasp. “It might be less painful than your claws.”
In response, the lion flops over, laying his head in my lap. It can’t be. Could this terrifying beast really want to cuddle?
Tentatively, I reach my hand out to one of his tufts of mane. Since he doesn’t rip off my arm at the touch, I start to scratch his head. The lion rumbles, nearly making me wet myself. It takes a few moments for me to realize that he’s trying to purr.
“You like that?” I whisper, incredulous.
His eyelids droop as I rub him behind one ear. Have I just charmed a lion? And is there any way to charm it off me? I’m starting to lose feeling in my legs.
Damon bounds into the room, tearing aside the curtain. “Oh, you found him!”
“You could put it that way.” I’m flooded with relief. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a lion?”
“I thought I did.” The prince jumps onto the bed, prompting a displeased grunt from the lion.
“When?”
“I did say that I’d have to set a lion on you if I told you what was on the lower levels. And you do know about the Jewel Room now…”
“I thought you were joking!”
He wags a finger at me. “Carnivores aren’t a laughing matter.”
“Can you get him off of me? He’s really heavy.”
“Yeah, he’s put on a lot of weight. He’s up to 218 pounds.”
“And most of that is concentrated on my spleen.”
“All right, you great lump.” Damon pushes the cat until he slides off me. “At least his vet was pleased.”
“Is that where you went?”
“Yes, this is Regulus. Or Reggie. He’s very healthy. Oh yes you are.” Damon rubs the lion’s cheeks, which the beast doesn’t seem to appreciate. He hooks a massive paw over Damon’s arm, showing off a sharp set of claws.
“Are you sure he likes that?”
“He loves it! Yes he does.” He talks to the lion like it’s a puppy. It’s funny to hear that tone come from the mostly proper prince.
“So is there a lion vet in town?”
“No. We went to Africa.”
“Africa!”
“It’s not a long trip by jet. My father insists on an African vet. He thinks they should know lions best.”
I massage my legs, trying to restore circulation. “Sorry, can we back up a bit? How do you have a lion?”
“Father got him for my birthday last year. He really needs to stop gifting me large mammals.”
“I still can’t get over the fact that there’s a lion in my bed.”
“Well, this used to be his room.”
Reggie rolls onto his back, presenting his belly for rubs. Damon and I both indulge him. Between the comfy bed and the fluffy lion, I start to nod off. I wish I could stay up with Damon, but all that dancing took a lot out of me.
Damon props a pillow behind me. “Come on, Reggie. It’s your bedtime too.”
To my astonishment, the lion slinks off the bed at his command.
“How’d you get him to do that?”
“Bribes,” the prince says. “Lots of bribes. He gets a big chunk of beef tonight, and he knows it.”
Damon pulls the covers over me, giving me a kiss on the forehead. “I’m sorry if Reggie scared you, but I’m glad I got a chance to see you this evening.”
“Me too,” I mumble.
He pauses by the curtain, which Reggie flicks repeatedly with his tail. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“Would you mind if I threw a ball for you?”
I smile. Nic knows his boss after all.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Goodnight, Grace.”
I fall asleep to dreams of a lion prince.
11
Damon joins me for breakfast on the terrace. It’s a gorgeous day, and the peacocks are calling to each other. I’m so happy, and so relieved that he’s back. I don’t want to ruin the day before it’s begun, but I have to know.
“What’s on your mind, Grace?”
“How did you know I had something on my mind?”
“For one thing, you keep pushing your eggs around your plate instead of eating them.”
That’s true. I look down at my breakfast.
“So, what is it?”
“How did the talk with your father go?”
Now Damon’s the one pushing his food around.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Okay.” He throws down his napkin. “So it wasn’t great. He’s a stubborn man, but so am I. Don’t worry about him. If all else fails, we’ll outlive him.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who could get so worked up over his son’s choice of … girlfriend? I really should have The Talk with Damon and clarify what exactly we are. Someday, anyway. Now doesn’t seem like the best time.
“Excuse me, Highness?” Eris walks onto the terrace. “Am I too early?”
Damon waves her forward. “Eris will help you prepare for the ball. Wou
ld you like to start now, or would you like to finish breakfast first?”
“Now’s fine.” I push my plate aside. I don’t have much appetite anyway.
Eris bows. “Follow me, my lady.”
Before I can leave, Damon leans forward to grab my hand. “I’ll find you when you’re finished.” He brushes cool lips over my fingertips. “I missed a day with you, and I plan to make up for it.”
“Oh, will you?”
“Today will be better. I promise.”
I’m not so convinced, especially since my feet ache from yesterday’s dance lessons. Still, I let him give me a quick peck on the cheek before I leave. I do regret walking away from him, but I would like some time to clear my head.
Eris leads me down the hall, then through a maze of corridors. There are so many twists and turns that I expect a minotaur to pop out at any moment. She opens a door so nondescript that I would never have noticed it on my own.
It’s like stepping into a seamstress’s dream. A line of ceramic mannequins draws me into the room. Each wears a ball gown more beautiful than the last. They even have elegant limbs, poised to look like they’re dancing.
“Do you like them?” Eris asks.
“I love them.” I reach out to touch the golden satin of the last gown. The fabric beckons me. Have I seen this before? I pull my fingers away at the last second. I’m sure whoever owns this dress wouldn’t appreciate me pawing it.
Eris laughs. “You can touch them, you know. It’s not a museum.”
Then it clicks. I saw this dress in the museum’s tapestry. “Wasn’t this the queen’s dress?”
“Yes. On her wedding day. My mother made it in three weeks.” Eris adjusts one of the silk flowers, her eyes misty. “When she passed, Queen Alena hired me to mend her things. I almost couldn’t bear it when she left us too.”
I study the dress, giving Eris a moment to compose herself. “Are you a dressmaker as well?”
“My mother only had time to teach me a little. I try my hand at sewing every now and then.” She digs in a basket for a tape measure. “Here we are. Can I get your measurements? You’ll need to take that off for now.” She nods at my little pink dress.
I’m not sorry to slip out of it. It doesn’t compare to anything in this room. I stand with arms outstretched as Eris instructs me. Her movements are confident and swift as she makes magic with the tape measure, pausing only to jot down numbers.
“Eris?”
“Mmm?” She seems lost in the measuring.
“It seems like you’re really good at this. Why are you a chambermaid?”
The girl pauses for a moment, staring at the length of my left arm as if unsure she’s reading it correctly. “Let me double check this one. Yes, that’s better. My lady, I’m not as good as my mother. Queen Sarina moved me to a position where I could better serve the family.”
“But are you happy there?”
“Yes.” She meets my eyes, daring me to challenge her. “The family has always taken care of me. If this is how I can serve them best, I’ll do it until I die.”
I can’t imagine being that loyal to anyone, but her steely gaze suggests that the matter is settled.
“It’s not like they broke my fingers and forbid me to sew. I can still work in my spare time, when I can afford the materials.”
“Can I see something you’ve made?”
A grin plays about her lips. “I was hoping you’d ask. Just a moment.”
Metal hangars scrape against wooden bars as she rummages through a wardrobe. “Sorry, I don’t like to leave my projects lying in plain sight.” Her voice is muffled through layers of fabric. “Found it!” She emerges triumphant, with a gown of burnished bronze. Even in the dull light, the dress gleams.
I gasp. “You made that?”
“You like it?” She smiles shyly. “Want to try it on?”
“Can I?”
Eris laughs. “Based on your measurements, I think it should fit. I was making it with Damon’s preferences in mind.”
Stepping into the dress, I shake my head. “I sense that he has a type. What’s with that, anyway?”
“He is a prince, my lady.” Eris zips up the back.
Stepping in front of a full-length mirror, I take in the reflection. The dress’s design is subtle, yet sophisticated. It looks so stunning on me that I draw my shoulders up in an attempt to match its elegance.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper.
“Well, not yet.” Eris is far more pragmatic than I am, for she immediately sets to pinning me around the waist and shoulders. “But it will be in plenty of time for the ball tomorrow.”
I gather part of the skirt in one hand. This dress is light and airy, not at all like the heavy monstrosity I feared. It’s so beautiful that I would dance around the room right now if I weren’t afraid that Eris would stick me with a pin for goofing around. My fears are evaporating. Maybe, even in heels, I won’t embarrass myself. And even if I do, I’ll still look fabulous. In this gorgeous bronze dress, I feel free.
Eris also seems more relaxed than usual. She sees me looking at her and smiles. “I can’t wait for the ball. I’m sure you’re even more excited.”
“I’ve never been to a ball before.”
“Really? Don’t they have them in America?”
“Not that I’m invited to.”
“You’ll love it, Grace. The hall is filled with so many ladies in their finery—I love seeing the new designs from different countries. And there’s always punch and trays of desserts. The kitchen makes tiny lavender cakes that are to die for. I get dismissed from regular duties, as you can see, to help people pick out dresses and assist with last-minute alterations. Plus, servants work in shifts so we can dance at the ball.”
I can’t think of a time I’ve ever heard her say so much at once. The excitement has really loosened her tongue. “Are you excited about dancing with any of the other servants?”
“It’s fun enough.” She shrugs, talking through the pins between her teeth. “It’s nice to put aside a night where we can drop the formalities.”
“Are you going to dance with Nic?”
Her eyes narrow. “He’s a bodyguard, not a servant. I don’t even know if he’s allowed to dance.”
“He taught me how. Clearly he must have learned somewhere. Ow!”
“I’m so sorry, did I stick you?” Eris is all innocence. “I wouldn’t presume that I’ll dance with anyone. Who Nicolai dances with is his business.”
“Right.” I rub my thigh. She didn’t have to jab me.
“Now, Damon’s going to ask you all about your dress, but don’t tell him anything, no matter how he pries. Not even the color.”
“Why not?”
“For one, he doesn’t need to match. It’s a ball. And he loves surprises, even if he isn’t usually patient enough to have any. Well, most surprises.”
“What does that mean?”
“Er… I’ll let him tell that story. But don’t let him spoil his own show. When you make your entrance, you’ll want to see his reaction. And it won’t be the same if he builds expectations in his head.”
“All right.”
Thankfully, Eris puts her pins away. “What would you like for your mask?”
“My mask?”
“Didn’t Damon tell you that this is a masquerade ball?”
“No.”
She shakes her head. “Hopeless. You’re lucky I’m here. This is what I have so far. You can tell me if you hate it.” Eris opens a drawer and pulls out a mask. It’s bronze, like my dress. On its surface, beaded birds take flight, like they’ve just escaped an aviary.
“Don’t tell me you made this too.”
“I might have. Does it look okay?”
I slip it over my face. Paired with the dress, it looks magnificent. I turn to Eris. “You’re amazing.”
She searches through another drawer, trying to hide her reddening face. “It needs something more, though. Maybe peacock feathers?” Eris puts som
e up to the mask so I can see it in the mirror.
“Hmm… That might be a bit much.”
“I thought you’d say that. How about these?” She holds up a handful of tiny feathers, their tips brushed with bronze paint.
“What are those?”
“Sparrow feathers.”
I give her a long look. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“I do my best.” She places the feathers neatly on a table, seeming very pleased with herself. Eris helps me slide out of the dress, taking more care with the pins this time.
“You look like a professional seamstress with that measuring tape around your neck.”
She waves me off. “Don’t flatter me. You’ll make my head swell up.”
I step back into my dress. Eris is wasted on menial chores. Maybe someday I can convince her to follow her passion.
“Let’s get you back to the hall.” Eris shoos me out of the room, closing the door behind her like she’s protecting a stolen treasure. “I promised Damon I’d have you back as soon as possible, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Reluctantly, I follow her down the labyrinth of hallways. Even though it would have looked ridiculous, I wish I could still be wearing that beautiful bronze gown.
Eris leaves me beside a pillar, with instructions to wait for Damon. “I’ll see you later, Grace. We should do one more fitting before the ball, just to make sure it’s perfect.”
“Thank you, Eris. In your hands, I’m sure it will be.”
She beams to me, curtsies out of habit, then runs back the way we came, no doubt to take up a needle and thread.
I collapse against the pillar, grateful to be alone for a moment. Maybe now my thoughts can have a chance to settle.
Someone clears their throat beside me. My heart almost stops when I realize that the king is standing there.
“Your Majesty!” I don’t know what to say. My head has emptied of all the formal curtsies Damon showed me.
“Hello, Miss Sparrow.”
What’s the king doing here, anyway? Why would he want to talk to me? My first instinct is that he’s lost, but I’m guessing that he probably has a sense of the palace layout.