Page 37 of The Mirror and the Curse

Everyone looked different dressed up in finery and masks. When the girls arrived at the ballroom, the band was playing a folk dance. The polished floor reflected the dancers and the sparkling chandeliers suspended above. Everything and everyone looked beautiful, even otherworldly, yet Eddi felt—

“Eduardi!”

At the sound of that voice, her heart gave a happy bound. Who cared what he called her? “Fidelio!” She turned eagerly and blinked in surprise. A gold domino mask nearly obscured Fidelio’s brown eyes and large nose, leaving only his huge smile.

“You’re a bird,” he observed. “Nice feathers.” He flicked a plume near her shoulder.

She chuckled. “You should talk. What’s with the wig? And those shoes!”

He looked down at himself and shrugged. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

“Is that a Vetrician costume?”

“I’m not sure.” Fidelio raised one large hand to gingerly touch the white wig—complete with rolled curls at his temples—then the frothy cravat at his throat. “I think the shoes are the worst, probably because I can see them.” He stared down at the gleaming gold slippers on his big feet. He looked ridiculous, but he was awfully cute even with the wig.

“Where did—”

But he was already bowing. “Your Royal Highness, may I have the honor of a dance?” He offered one gloved hand.

“Certainly.” Eddi laid her hand in his and let him lead her onto the dance floor. They swirled into a waltz, and she knew he was careful to shorten his steps for her sake. Maria had vanished, but a quick scan of the dance floor revealed her in the arms of a man wearing a fancy uniform and tall furry hat of some sort. “Costume parties are really not my thing,” Eddi admitted. “I hope I don’t jab anyone with my wings.”

“You won’t. They aren’t very big,” he observed. “I’m not wild about costumes myself, but I was told they aretrès chic. For what that’s worth. Anyway, I’m glad you wore one.”

“You are? Why?”

“Since you’re a red bird, I don’t mind so much looking like a gilded stork.”

Eddi outright snorted, and he laughed too. Happiness rolled through her. Fidelio was a keeper, wig and all.

“Did you come with anyone?” he asked, carefully casual.

“Just Maria. How about you?”

“I didn’t invite anyone.” He sounded oddly pleased with himself. “Free to dance with you all evening if I choose. And if you want,” he added abruptly, sounding uncertain again.

“If you dislike it so much, whydidyou wear the fancy costume?” she asked, trying to sound innocuous.

He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a masquerade.”

“Sure, but we’re not required to wear costumes. Where did you get it?”

“A friend provided it.” He visibly wilted. “I was in sort of a panic about what to wear, so she helped me out.”

She.Uh huh. If Raquel had dressed him up like a bewigged scarecrow—and Eddi was ninety percent sure of it—her best response was to brush it off as no big deal. “Well, I’m really glad you came to the ball this year.”

His entire being lit up. “Eddi, I . . . um . . . I—” He shut his mouth and tried again. “You look . . . amazing.” The final word emerged in a near whisper, which was flattering. His big hand pulled her slightly closer. “Sometimes I forget how beautiful you are.”

“I would imagine the bird mask makes forgetting easier,” she observed dryly.

His big eyes blinked behind the sparkly domino mask. “No, I mean, usually you’re just little Eddi, my friend since we were kids, and my new racing buddy.” He shook his head slightly and rushed on to say, “But every now and then it hits me . . . And then you walk into the ballroom tonight, so tiny and perfect and . . . I feel like a clumsy clodhopper who somehow managed to get a dance with a mysterious fairy princess, and I’m terrified I’ll step on your foot or break you in half.”

Eddi smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’m not a fragile fairy princess, Fidelio. Remember? I’m the tough little brat who held my own with five big Vetrician boys.”

“You cried sometimes.”

“Yes, and you were the prince who came to my rescue when your brothers got too rough!”

“And got pounded for my efforts.”

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