The crowd had grown more hushed since the trumpet was heard. At first, there was no sign of anything changing within the hall that would imply the reason for the fanfare. She slowly became aware of the crowd separating into two lines on either side of the entrance arch, their eyes gazing anxiously toward the door. “What is going on?” she whispered, hoping someone near her would be able to answer her question.
“Someone of the royal family is arriving,” Maeri replied quietly, leaning in close to Leyna’s ear. “If it is Queen Vorsila, we are to immediately curtsy and remain with our eyes and bodies lowered to the ground until she has passed. If it is one of her sons, it is customary to curtsy, but the available girls tend to offer out their hands in hopes of one of them taking notice of them.”
“What exactly do you mean by take notice of them?”
Maeri grinned deviously from under her mask. “To ask them to dance, silly. If upon entering, the Prince chooses your hand and kisses the back of it, he has picked you to be one of his partners for a dance throughout the evening. Prince Enaes is known to choose several girls. The young Prince, if the last ball was any indication of his normal behavior, he ignored all the ladies and never danced a single song or spoke a word to anyone.”
In the archway she could see the figure of a man come into view. His face was completely obscured by a fanciful mask covering all but the lips and chin. It shimmered in shades of oranges and reds with a hint of gold, giving the illusion of a radiant fire molded of leather across his features. The outer edges splayed outward in carefully designed tendrils, starting back near his ears from where it molded to his cheeks and forehead. The piece which attached it to his head covered his hair from view, leaving nothing to assist the imagination in picturing his true form.
His clothing was plainer than she remembered having seen worn by Prince Enaes, opting for a more simple white shirt with perfectly tailored black trousers. The only design on his garments which gave away their fine make was the shine of the silk used to create it, the buttons keeping the front together made with silver and set in the middle with gemstones to match the fiery shades of his mask.
The only sound that could be heard throughout the ballroom was the rustle of fabric as the guests lowered to their knees, the ladies sinking into deep curtsies with their heads bowed and their hands daintily held out in front of them. Following their lead, Leyna dipped down to her knee, folding her hands lightly over her leg. She had no desire to offer herself like some prize to the royal men. It promised only a single dance to spend twirling about aimlessly on the floor, after which he would never remember her face – and more than likely never learn her name.
“Hold out your hand,” Maeri hissed, nudging her sharply with her elbow. “Lady Faustine is watching you and she is nearly ready to leap from her skin.”
Leyna ignored her. The whispers became more and more insistent until Maeri finally gave up, her shoulders bowing forward in defeat while offering out her own hand to the center of the aisle. Staring through her eyelashes, Leyna peered up at the man, praying he would not notice her upturned gaze from under her own bowed head. He was moving much more swiftly through the room than she expected of a prince. At his passing, the girls started to retract their hands, his eyes barely taking note of their presence.
Why did it feel like it was taking forever for him to pass by her? For the pace he was using, she thought he would be by them in no time, allowing her to rise back to her feet and resume her idle chatter. As he drew nearer, she let her eyes drop back to the floor, watching his boots move across the tiles in front of her. Upon reaching a few steps beyond Maeri, he came to a stop, the crowd remaining silent in anticipation of whom he would choose.
Go away. She willed him to pick some other girl and leave her be. Maybe he had somehow been enticed by Maeri. She was a lovely young woman and certainly capable of catching the attention of any man in the room… even with her features hidden. It took only a moment before she became keenly aware of the boots stepping in front of her directly, the man’s presence looming over her.
Her heart was pounding in her chest. She should have just listened to Maeri and held out her hand. The last thing she wanted was to be chastised publicly in front of the most important people in the country. And over something so foolish. So what if she didn’t want to dance? They shouldn’t take it so personally.
He was kneeling in front of her. The Prince – kneeling in front of her. She thought she was going to be sick. Her stomach was fluttering nervously, making it even harder to breathe within the constraints of her corset than she’d already been suffering. She lowered her head down further, keeping Lady Faustine’s teachings in her mind. Her head must remain at a height below that of anyone in the royal family unless allowed to stand differently. Faustine had said nothing about how to react if they knelt. It seemed impossible to maintain a posture any lower than she already held without lying down on the floor at his feet.
A gloved hand gently clasped hers, lifting it up from where she had it resting lightly on her bent knee. With a suave motion, he brought it up to his lips, barely making contact with the back of her hand through the thin cloth covering it. She refused to make eye contact with him as he rose to his feet again, continuing on toward the back of the room to the shocked silence of the crowd.
“Well, that is something I have never seen before,” Feolan mused. Leyna could hear him moving to stand where he had been bowed for the Prince’s arrival. She was too afraid to move in fear of the reaction the guests would give her. They were more than likely appalled at her behavior toward the Prince… and Lady Faustine would be at the front of the line waiting to make her disapproval known.
Maeri gently urged her back to her feet, leaning into her excitedly. “Oh my, Leyna. You were asked to dance by the Prince.”
“Not for lack of trying to avoid it.” It made no sense to her. How could it be that she was the only girl in the room not dying to touch him and yet he chose her? Pride, perhaps. Like most men she had come to know during the war and throughout her time in Carpaen at the academy. Men liked to chase what they could not have. Or what was implied to be off limits to them. It was more than likely a simple matter of the young Prince being even more egotistical than Enaes.
Faustine wasted no time in cutting through the crowd to get to where Leyna and Maeri were standing. Pushing past Feolan, she set her hard gaze upon Leyna, gripping her slender wrist roughly in her hand. “You silly girl. Are you trying to make a fool out of me? Have I taught you nothing?”
She winced at the pressure being applied by Faustine. For a woman of such high regard in the art of daintiness and delicacy, she had a grip that would frighten even a Sanarik if she got her hands on them. Leyna didn’t dare let the pain show on her face. To make it known would only worsen the punishment she might receive upon returning home, if she was unable to redeem herself in Faustine’s eyes before the ball had ended.
“If I may say, Lady Faustine, the young lady is an image of poise and grace. I should have known her to be a student of yours,” Feolan smiled, holding his hand out toward Faustine invitingly. Faustine glanced over to him questioningly before noticing the golden insignia on his chest, her face instantly softening into a polite smile.
With a softness that seemed out of character for her, Faustine placed her hand lightly in Feolan’s outstretched palm with a graceful curtsy. “You flatter me, sir. Such a compliment from a man so close to Her Majesty’s Consul is a great honor to hear.”
He smiled charmingly at her, lifting her hand up to kiss the back of it. Faustine’s behavior was almost comical to Leyna. A complete transformation, from the bitter old woman who had been scolding her only seconds before, into the semblance of a lady. “Would it be too forward of me to request an introduction to the young misses?”
“Of course not. I feared they had lost their manners and already forced themselves upon your company,” Faustine smiled, her pleasant tone sounding more forced than it had during her formal greeting.
Her irritation with Leyna and Maeri was difficult for her to conceal, though their recognition by a man of status was too great an accomplishment for her to ignore. “This is Lady Leyna Evantine and the young Lady Maeri Diah. Both are newly introduced into society and are not spoken for at this time…”
She wanted to die. How much more embarrassing could a single night get? To make a spectacle of herself in front of the Prince as well as everyone else in the room, and now to have Faustine attempting to entice Feolan into courtship with her. If her cheeks had been visible, she knew they would be flushed with color, the warmth of her blood filling her face in humiliation.
He took it better than she did, though she realized she gave him little credit at how to deal with a woman like Lady Faustine. In the military such a comment would have been greeted with much more directness in regards to the man’s interest in the woman set before him. She forgot that he was a courtier now. He was bound by formality to feign interest without giving too much hope to the mother seeking him like a trophy. “I can assure you that with their beauty, they will not remain so available for long.”
Another trumpet blast erupted from the foyer, catching Leyna off guard. Before she had a chance to react, Faustine’s hands were pushing her firmly to face the aisle which was quickly parting yet again, creating a large opening in front of the entrance. The figure that appeared in the door carried himself in a manner all too familiar to Leyna. His features were more visible than his brother. The mask he wore covered only the area around his eyes, adorned with gold ribbons and gemstones along the edges of the black fabric. His style of dress was drastically more pretentious, displaying yards of golden brocade fabric draping from his shoulders. Rings of various rare stones sparkled from almost every finger, shown off at every chance he had to bend down and kiss the outstretched hands of the excited young girls lining his path.
Reluctantly Leyna started to hold out her hand, kneeling down gracefully at his approach. She was startled by Faustine’s sudden burst of movement, grabbing onto her hand and holding it firmly down in front of her. “You are already chosen. I cannot have you appearing overzealous at gaining company with Her Majesty’s sons. Who knows what the people would think.”
So many rules. Offer your hand, now don’t offer your hand; how was a girl supposed to know what behavior was appropriate when the standard changed on a whim? It was too easy to lose favor amongst society if their views were anywhere near as strict as Faustine made them out to be. She missed the simple life of a soldier.
It was a wonder how Prince Enaes could even think of retaining the knowledge of each girl whose hand his lips touched the back of. He barely missed a single eager young woman on either side of the line, bowing with a flourish and accepting several at a time. He gave no question to anything until he approached where Leyna was kneeling, his eyes looking her over closely as he noticed Faustine’s hand restraining her.
“I have not seen anyone take such a stance in years. Could it be that my brother actually intends to grace us with a dance this evening?”
Faustine’s hand applied pressure at the back of Leyna’s neck, forcing her to bow lower. “So it would seem, Your Highness.” Leyna couldn’t recall the last time she had ever heard Faustine’s voice so soft. It wasn’t fitting for her at all.
“And he chose to keep the loveliest maiden in the whole place to himself. That hardly seems fair,” Enaes chuckled. Leyna lifted her eyes to him in surprise at the sight of him offering out his hand to her, his brow raised questioningly toward Faustine. “There will be more than a single song played. Might I convince you to grant me her hand for one of the many that she will be sitting out of due to my brother’s lack of appreciation for the beauty he has found?”
Faustine gave barely a thought to the request. Relinquishing her firm grasp on Leyna’s hand, she lifted it up into the air, placing it gently into Enaes’s. He dipped down low in a deep bow, flicking the fabric of his cape over his shoulder. His eyes never left hers as he bent in to kiss the back of her hand, holding her gaze steady for a moment before continuing on his way.
She watched him take Maeri’s hand out of the corner of her eye, though she couldn’t bring herself to observe his ostentatious display any longer. She had been wrong. It would be impossible for the young Prince to be any more egotistical than Enaes. He was the epitome of self absorption. What he wanted, he would be given or he would find a way to utilize his position to take it. It disgusted her, but for this one night she would have to entertain his pompousness. Faustine would never allow it to be any other way.
Unlike when the young Prince had reached the end of the crowd, the guests remained bowed in his wake. Once at the back of the room, Enaes stood in front of a large throne near the wall, his eyes directed toward the archway from which he had just come. The young Prince rose to his feet, standing at attention in the direction of the entrance. No fancy music had accompanied the Queen’s arrival. She was already halfway down the aisle before Leyna was even aware that she had entered.
Everything but her vividly glowing silver eyes was covered by her ornate mask, her features molding perfectly to the shape. Rubies lined the lips, their sparkling red color filling in against the pale silver of the mask itself. Dark lines of black paint streaked out around the eyes for a dramatic effect with evenly spaced diamonds pulling out the radiant color of her eyes. They shone brighter than anything Leyna had ever seen before, putting the nighttime stars to shame against her mass of deep ebony hair which framed her face and hung straight down to her waist.
Her frame was smaller than Leyna imagined. In seeing the figures of her sons, Leyna pictured her to be a much more solid woman rather than the almost frail looking girl that floated across the floor so elegantly in front of her. The power within her was so strong that Leyna thought it nearly tangible, energy exuding from every part of her delicate body. She may have appeared physically weak, but there was no denying the strength that had built within her over her many years on the throne. Her age was imperceptible from under the concealment of her mask.
With elegance and grace she made her way to where her two sons were standing, greeting them both with a formal kiss to each cheek. The room remained in utter silence until she had taken her seat on the glittering throne next to Enaes, her tiny hand rising up to motion for everyone to continue their business at ease.
“Well,” Feolan smiled. “Now that the hosts and hostess have arrived, I should be back to my rounds, at least sending the Consul’s regrets for missing the party.”
“If you seek a partner for any of the dances, sir, my girls would gladly be on your arm – if they are not otherwise occupied by a prince.” Faustine sounded more hopeful than Leyna was comfortable with. It was all too much for her. So many things to remember from her lessons while being looked in the eye by so many memories of her past.
She hardly noticed Feolan disappearing into the crowd, leaving her alone with Maeri and Faustine. Faustine’s voice droned on in her ear, lecturing her about the proper etiquette when dancing with a partner. It was proper to not speak during the dance with a member of the royal family, but if addressed, it was acceptable. The only detail which stood out in her mind was something she said about names. Even if asked, she was not required to bestow that information while at the masque. They called it courtesy. Leyna called it impossible with some of the men present.
Music started up on the far side of the room to her right. Several couples cleared the main entrance to make their way toward the candlelit dance floor, the soft tones of finely tuned strings wafting through the air. It was the first relaxing sound she’d heard all evening.
Enaes was already on the floor, spinning about with some young woman in his arms. It was hard to miss him amongst the other dancers with his style of dress. The other men paled in comparison to his golden threads, weaving in and out of the couples swaying gently to the music.
Lost in the depths of her thoughts, she realized Enaes had already passed through multiple partners, ea
ch song bringing with it a new tune to Leyna’s ears. If she could have stood there all night and just listened to the soft notes of the instruments, it would have been the most comforting thing she’d experienced in years. She couldn’t remember the last time that she enjoyed the talents of such distinguished musicians. It would have been long before she and her mother moved to Mialan. Possibly too long ago for her to even connect any image in her mind to the memory of the sounds.
A feather-light touch on her shoulder drew her from her reverie. Her heart crashed into her stomach at the jarring pull back into reality, reminding her of the predicament she was in. She found herself again facing the calm and elegant form of the young Prince, his lips saying nothing to her as he offered her his arm. She accepted it at a single stern look from Faustine, though her knees were trembling so severely that she wondered if she would even make it to the dance floor without fainting.
In the center of the floor, he gently clasped her hand in his, resting his right hand just above her slender waist. It wasn’t until they’d begun to move with the music that she truly appreciated his difference in style from his brother’s. Too much movement would surely remove the last of the air from her lungs that her corset managed to let through. No matter how she looked at it, the evening boded a poor and embarrassing end to a night that would haunt her forever.
The music played on with them dancing in silence. Leyna was too afraid to speak in fear of breaking some code that would set the Prince off. Faustine had ruined the entire experience. If she had been free of the strict rules laid down upon her by her teacher, she could have left the room in awe over her presence on the dance floor. Dancing had been her most favored lesson among the requirements for social gatherings. She just pictured it being far more enjoyable than she was finding it to be at the moment.
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 18