A Tale of Two Princesses (11 page)

     "Thank you, guests of her majesty, Queen Friora, for waiting so patiently! We now welcome our guest of honor from the kingdom of Cross. He is the second-born prince of King Cross. To his name he is credited with slaying the beast of Grenhill, with marshalling the battle of Krenlien, and with discovering the ruins of Gasteel!"

     "Did you her that, Wellington?" Court whispered as he waited to enter. "The beast of Grenhill? The beast was a crazy man wearing a bear skin. How embarrassing! And marshalling the attack of Krenlien? I was delivering orders from my father to my brother! How preposterous! And I did not discover the ruins of Gasteel. I found them by accident while stumbling around lost in the forest. How foolish! Wherever did they get such grand ideas?"

     "Your highness, with all apologies, I told them."

     "Oh, Wellington. You make me into something I am not."

     "I make you into something they want, sir. Lower your mask. It is time."

     "Please welcome, his highness," the steward called, "Prince Court Cornelius Cross of the Cross Kingdom!"

     The doors opened and Court crossed into the ballroom, walking through the aisle created by the separated guests, meeting their applause and bowed heads, coming up to the throne. He took long defiant strides, not turning his head in either direction, his mask hiding his grimace from everyone. Perhaps this mask had its uses after all. When he reached the steps to the throne, he fell to one knee.

     "Your majesty, I am honored to be welcomed into your kingdom. My father brings this gift to you." He held up a small wooden box between his hands. Vrine took it from him, climbing the steps, opening it to her queen. "It is the fang, dipped in gold, of the infamous dragon Smoke, a creature that was slain one hundred years ago. It represents the lives of a thousand men who died trying to defeat it and those who fell victim to its evils."

     "A fine gift," the queen said, clearing her throat to keep down her cough. "I do so recall the stories of that legendary dragon plaguing the Cross kingdom, for it was even seen in our lands from time to time, and many say its offspring is the very dragon who has terrorized our good citizens until recently. Your gift is well received, as are you, Prince Cross. Rise and join me."

     Cross climbed to his feet and ascended the stairs, standing beside the queen, looking out over the crowd.

     "To our honored guest, Prince Cross," the queen said, "I do now present my daughter, with the interest of marriage."

     The steward stepped forward again, lifting his chin even higher. "The kingdom does so proudly and so earnestly present to you our guests and to his highness, Prince Cross, the beloved flower of Castle Avelot, the beautiful, radiant, and charming Princess Celeste Friora Avelot!"

     Everyone turned to the double doors as they opened. Cross was breathing heavily against his silver mask, his eyes sharp even as he began to see her between the cracked doors. It was the hair he noticed first: curly, golden locks spilling down her body. Her hair was stunning, more so than he expected it would be. It was a struggle just to take in the rest of her. She had a gold mask on, with a gold and white dress. The diamond too, around her neck, was radiant, outshined only by her tiara. Her body was, Cross admitted, beautiful, but it was not a beautiful body he wanted. It was freedom to do as he wanted to do. She could not give him that.

     Sienna was trembling all over as she looked through the mask. Homa was watching from the back of the crowd, giving her nods of encouragement, but Sienna was on her own, with all these people, more than two hundred, staring at her, an imposter. She waited there between the doors for them to scream it out, for the guards to charge at her, throw her to the floor, drag her off to the gallows. She might have stayed there all night, waiting, but Homa waved her hand, as if for her to move.

     Sienna took small steps forward. The announcement music was so loud it hurt her ears. She looked up to the balcony on either side of the ballroom. There were trumpet players on both sides. She pulled her eyes away, looking to the front of the long room. It kept going and going. This walk was taking forever, and the queen, the queen herself—well, who else was she expecting—was standing there with her hands folded, watching her like all the others. Surely, she could already tell this was not her daughter.

     Vrine was off to the left, almost behind the throne, looking like a snake with eyes that warned she was always ready to strike. The steward was a short, thin man. He looked friendly, smiling, waiting for her to arrive at the other end of the ballroom. Halfway there now.

     And then there was the prince. Homa had told her to expect him to be standing to the right. So this was the guy. He was tall, very broad in the shoulders, narrow at the waist. His black and silver suit did look very nice on him, complete with epaulettes on his shoulders and a sash across his chest. He had light brown hair, combed off to the side, but a few locks were fighting with him, falling over his silver mask. She imagined he was very handsome underneath. He would have to be. He was a prince. But thinking he was handsome only made this harder. She would just pretend he was not.

     Sienna bowed at the waist when she reached the steps to the throne. Then she cleared her throat, hoping it would sell that she was sick, and whispered, "Thank you, my queen."

     The queen raised her arm, inviting her daughter to step up the stairs and join her side. Sienna kept her head down to avoid eye contact. "Princess Celeste, allow me to present Prince Cross."

     Wow, she was still alive. She had fooled the queen. She could not believe it. She bowed to the prince, repeating the words that Homa had told her to say. "Hello, Prince Cross. I am honored to meet your highness."

     "The honor is mine, Princess Celeste."

     Then the prince stepped forward, lifting his hand in invitation for hers. She was ready for that. Homa had told her he would kiss her hand. She surrendered it, sliding it into his, their skin touching for the first time. His palms were sweaty, just like hers. That was comforting somehow. Then he bowed at the waist, bringing his face to her hand, lifting his mask just enough to let his lips connect before pulling it back down. He stood up straight.

     "The tales of your golden hair have not done you justice, your highness. You are even more stunning in person."

     Sienna blushed under her mask. That was so nice of him to say, especially as it was her hair he was admiring, not Celeste's. "Thank you."

     "Might I have the pleasure of a dance with your highness?"

     "The pleasure is mine."

     And now Sienna was out of things to say. Those were all the lines she had rehearsed. She was going to have to dance. Truly, she had not expected to survive this long. She was supposed to be dead, or at least in chains. Thinking ahead to the actual dancing part was an impossibility. She thought the queen would have seen through the façade. And now the prince was holding her hand, leading her out to the floor.

     He bowed to her again. Why did he keep bowing? And he was holding it now. His head turned up at her. What did he want? Was she supposed to do something? Oh, bow back? She bowed back and he finally straightened up. Then she bristled as the music started. It was so loud! His hand was waiting for hers again. She grabbed it. He seemed confused but he straightened it out so her palm was resting in his, and then he took her by the waist. It felt uncomfortable being touched like that by a man. She placed her hand on his upper arm, ready to push him away if necessary. His head turned, glancing at her placement. And then he moved. She stumbled back with him, stepping on his toe. He cringed.

     "Oh! Sorry!" she said.

     "Quite all right, princess. I am a knight, and knights do not cry out."

     He moved again, right into her. She was careful of his feet this time, but she stumbled back just the same.

     "Sorry."

     "Pardon me," he said, but he did it again, stepping right into her, large steps too. "Forgive me." And then he did it again. "Excuse me."

     Why did he keep apologizing and then doing it anyway? She was ready the next time, stepping backwards out of his way, but then he pulled her to the side and she had to shuffle to keep up. He seemed to get the idea that she did not know how to dance. He let out a quiet chuckle.

     "Heh, are we a bit out of practice, your highness?"

     "Sorry," she whispered. "I'm a little nervous."

     He slowed his dancing. "Perhaps something slower."

     And then he swayed from side to side. Sienna swayed with him. She could sway. Still, everyone was looking at her, the entire hall, some of them snickering and giggling to themselves, a few more whispering. She looked around, searching for Homa, but she could not find her in the sea of masks. She looked up at the queen instead. It was worse. She was glaring, her lips pinched together so tightly they were white. Then the queen motioned to the steward and he clapped. Upon his clap, the couples around the floor joined the dance, obscuring her terrible moves from view.

     "Allow me to say how pleased I am to have met you, Princess Celeste," Court said.

     "The pleasure is mine, Prince Cross," Sienna said. "Or should I just call you Court?"

     He laughed behind his mask. "Do you wish to call me Court?"

     "Sure. We're both royalty. We should be on a first name basis. You can call me Celeste if you want, I mean, if you are pleased to call me Celeste."

     Another laugh. Was she this amusing? "Very well, Celeste. Please call me Court."

     "Great, Court," she said.

     She felt a little more comfortable with him now. Still, she kept glancing around at all the dancing couples. They were so skilled, twirling each other, moving around. Every couple looked like they knew what they were doing. Their moves even matched one another's, as if they had all gotten together as a group beforehand and discussed exactly what they would be doing. Well, they had forgotten to invite her!

     "Everyone here dances so well, don't they?"

     "Yes. Do you enjoy dance?"

     "Sure, I think dancing is nice," Sienna said. "I don't really do it often though. Do you?"

     "Not often, no. But of course, I'm sure you've had hours and hours of lessons, whether you wanted them or not."

     "Oh, yes, loads of lessons, all the time. I had some lessons earlier today."

     "I see," he said, picking up the speed of his swaying. He tried to step into her again, but when she stumbled he slowed down. "I must say, you are not quite what I expected."

     "Oh?" she said, gulping. What if he knew she was not acting like a princess? She was in trouble! "What do you mean?"

     "You're very relaxed," he said, "informal, though I don't mean to say that's a bad thing. I find it refreshing."

     "Good, great. I don't act so informally, normally." She giggled. "That rhymed."

     He chuckled. "Yes. Well, that's what I mean. I did not think such a simple thing as a rhyme would amuse you."

     "I'm sorry. I'm nervous," she said. "But that's okay, right? I mean, we've just met and we're practically going to be married soon."

     "Well," he said, clearing his throat, "that remains to be determined. After all, I think we're still getting to know each other."

     "Yeah, of course."

     "And your tongue is so relaxed."

     "My tongue? You can see my tongue?" She reached up, checking her mask.

     "I meant your speech."

     "Oh! I'm sorry." She giggled. "Thank you, your highness. I mean, Court. That's so nice of you to say."

     "I, I didn't quite mean it as a flattery, but please, take it as such if you wish. It does put me at ease, to be sure."

     "You're nervous too?' she asked.

     "It was not my choice to come here. My father sent me."

     "Oh. You don't want to marry me then?"

     "I didn't say that," he said, laughing awkwardly behind his mask. "I only meant arranged marriages are difficult."

     "Why?" she asked. Sienna honestly didn't understand. It seemed like it made sense to her. Someone is assigned to you and you marry them. She, after all, supposed it would be nice to be married to a prince and live in a castle and never have to do any work at all—better than cleaning chamber pots and getting sold for a night by your uncle, anyway.

     "We are two people, independent people, who don't know each other, yet we are forced upon each other, no chance to get to know each other."

     "Hmm, yeah," she said. "But we can always get to talking after the marriage, right?"

     "I, I suppose. But of course, there's no going back then."

     She shrugged. "But who else is a prince like you going to marry but a princess?"

     "Pardon?"

     "Do you have a girlfriend back home?"

     "N, no."

     "Were you looking for one?"

     "Not really."

     "So what's the problem?"

     "I didn't mean to say there was a problem, just that it was a difficult adjustment. I must say, I did not expect to be having this conversation, at least not so soon."

     "Oh! You're right, I'm sorry. You can change the subject."

     "It's quite all right. Do you not find our arrangement uncomfortable? You did say you were nervous."

     "I was just nervous 'cause I had to dance," Sienna said, giggling behind her mask.

     "I see," Court said.

     The music tempo suddenly changed and all the partners split apart, bowing to each other. Court stepped away from her, bowing too. All the ladies in the room curtsied. Sienna tried to mimic the curtsy. And then all the women stepped forward, moving around their dance partner. Sienna scurried around Court. And then all the women turned to the dancer behind them and switched partners.

     Sienna turned around, seeing someone new. He held his hand out to her. He was an older man, based on the white hair coming out from behind his mask. She took his outstretched hand and he led her in a loop around him, as all the other dancers were doing.