Page 14 of Legacy of Glass
Marigold thrust her head out the far window and peered around before pulling back in and turning to Olivia.
“Don’t bother waiting for me. I can already see another vehicle coming along the carriage path behind us, and we need to clear the spot so its occupants can alight.” She grinned. “And don’t think about lurking here, waiting for me. You might be happy to wait, but I doubt they will be. You’ll just make everyone uncomfortable. Please just let the coachman know that he should pull around until he can find an out-of-the-way place to stop. I’ll have the tear fixed in a flash and then he can circle back around.” She fixed Olivia with a stern stare. “Just promise you won’t linger awkwardly somewhere waiting for me. You’re already late enough, so go inside and enjoy every moment of your big night.”
Olivia considered protesting, but the approaching carriage had nearly reached them, so there wasn’t time for an argument. “Very well,” she said with a sigh. “Although I feel terrible leaving you. I’ll keep a close eye on the entrance and join you as soon as you make it into the ball.”
Marigold nodded, gesturing for Olivia to hurry and pass on her message to the coachman. She did so, faithfully repeating Marigold’s instructions. The man must have still been irritated because he merely grunted before signaling to the horses to begin moving.
Olivia watched the carriage roll off, feeling a little lost. She had expected to enter the ball at the side of someone who had been many times before, not alone. But the next carriage was arriving, and the footman who had handed her out was waiting for her at the foot of the long, shallow flight of stairs leading up to the palace entrance.
He gestured for her to approach, so she drew a deep breath, grasped her skirts in both hands, and hurried toward him. Despite her fears of tripping over her dress and tumbling head over heels, she made it safely to the top of the stairs, the footman’s light support beneath her elbow ensuring her smooth arrival.
As soon as she reached the palace doors, the footman disappeared, running nimbly back down the stairs to help the next arrivals. Olivia was late so there wasn’t a constant stream of carriages, but another one had appeared at the distant gate, rolling toward the one that was currently disgorging its passengers. Knowing she wasn’t the only latecomer lifted her spirits a little.
The enormous double doors of the palace were thrown open, and Olivia stepped into the echoing stone entranceway. To her left, the lights and sounds of the ball spilled out through another set of double doors, these ones also propped open. But unlike the front doors, the ones to the ballroom had a ceremonial guard standing to attention on either side. Olivia once again gripped her skirts, ready to twitch them aside and display her glass-shod feet in order to gain entry.
But neither guard moved nor gave any indication of having seen her, and after a momentary hesitation, Olivia approached the ballroom. The footman must have seen her glass slippers as she climbed the stairs. Perhaps his true role was to screen out attendees who didn’t meet the requirement.
As much as Olivia had been longing for the moment she would arrive in the grand ballroom—had been dreaming of it since childhood—now that the moment had come, she felt hesitant. Her heart beat fast, and she had to stop herself from wiping her sweaty palms on her dress. It would have been much more comfortable to enter the ballroom beside Marigold.
She glanced back over her shoulder hopefully, looking for a glimpse of the Emerson carriage with its gold crest circling back around. But she could see no glimpse of it. The only people in view were the two ladies and the gentleman currently climbing the stairs as their carriage rolled away to make way for the next.
Olivia drew a deep breath. As little as she relished entering the ball alone—and possibly making an embarrassing misstep in the process—she didn’t fancy the idea of trailing in behind a crowd of strangers either. She had imagined herself as a princess, attending a royal ball, and she should act the part.
Straightening, she raised her head and swept across the entranceway to stand at the doorway of the ballroom. Four steps led down into the main room, giving her just enough height to glance across the whole room.
It was even larger than she had imagined, spanning the entire length of the palace. Glittering crystal chandeliers sent light sparkling down on the throng below, the bright colors of the women’s gowns contrasting with the gold accents of the room and the green of the potted trees and creeping vines that festooned the walls.
Olivia gave a soft gasp, taking a moment to admire the scene before her. A dance was underway, and couples twirled across the room in each other’s arms. She knew no one who might ask her to dance, but for a moment she allowed herself to swell with the hope that she would soon be among them.
As she stepped forward, lifting her skirts so her foot could safely reach for the first step, a trumpet fanfare sounded. She flinched and fled down the stairs as quickly as possible. If the people entering behind her were important enough to receive a fanfare on entry, she was doubly glad she hadn’t lingered.
But when she glanced back at the doorway from the safety of the crowd below, the three people behind her hadn’t yet reached it. She looked around the room, frowning, but now that she was on the ballroom floor, it was no longer so easy to see. Too many of the ball guests were head and shoulders taller than her.
She could, however, see the orchestra, on their raised platform, and she noted with a frown that it had no brass section. Nowhere in the room was there any sign of the trumpeters who had miscued their arrival announcement. But the noise couldn’t have come from the air.
Olivia was still craning her head, trying to see more of her surroundings, when the crowd around her rippled. Movement swept in her direction, a wave of people and a rush of murmurs.
She caught a few of the whispered words, “The prince,” and, “Prince Julius!” among them.
Olivia tried to melt backward along with the people beside her, but somehow the space around her emptied, and she found herself standing in a circle of clear floor, facing a tall young man.
He was bowing politely, apparently in her direction, his movement obscuring his face. But from the top of his dark, carefully groomed hair, to the resplendence of his black suit, with the deep purple and gold sash across the chest, he looked every inch a prince.
Combined with the whispers around her, she could come to only one conclusion. She was facing Crown Prince Julius of Sovar.
He spoke, still with his head partially bent.
“Will you dance with me?”
Her mouth dropped open in response to his words. And when he finally lifted his head and met her eyes, the polite smile on his face faltered as well.
Olivia’s jaw snapped shut. “You!” she cried.
Chapter6
Olivia
It wasn’t the prince standing in front of her at all. It was the young man she had met on the hill after the slipper-incident-that-must-be-forgotten. Olivia stared at him, the silent horror she was feeling reflected in his eyes.
