Page 67 of Disenchanted
“She was my royal forest warder’s daughter.”
“I am aware of that, Your Grace. But you seem as if you knew and remember her well. How is that possible?”
Em emitted a horrified gasp, and she gave me a sharp nudge to remind me this was no way to address a king. I ignored her, intently studying the king’s face.
I was stunned to see his cold eyes misty.
“When I was out hunting, I often stopped by the warder’s house.” King August sighed. “Your mother was the loveliest, most enchanting woman I have ever known.”
The king seized my hand. “You look so very much like her.”
Still clutching my hand, he appealed eagerly to his servant, “Is that not true, Majordomo? Is not this girl Cecily’s very image?”
“Indeed, she is, sire.” The majordomo agreed, but his gaze rested thoughtfully upon me as he added, “Except for her eyes. I do believe she has her father’s eyes.”
The king’s head whipped back toward me. He stared hard into my eyes and the strangest look crossed his face. If it did not seem so ridiculous, I would have said it was one of fear. The king abruptly released my hand as though he had discovered he was grasping a snake. Without another word, he turned and limped away from me. The majordomo followed, giving me a nod and a smile. It was a strange smile, almost as if he was trying to convey a warning.
My mind teemed with questions, and I trembled with the urge to rush after the king and demand explanations.
Em must have sensed my impulse because she laid a restraining hand on my arm. “Let it go, Ella,” she murmured.
“But, Em!” I whispered. “You heard the king. He spoke of my mother as though— as though he was once in love with her. Did you notice how strangely he acted when the majordomo mentioned my father? What was that all about?”
“I have no idea, but I learned a long time ago it is wiser and safer not to dwell on the past.” She patted my arm. “Better that you keep your distance from the king and just try to have a good time tonight.”
I knew Em was right, but I kept getting these tantalizing hints about my father’s mysterious past. First, Withypole letting slip that my father had once been a passionate advocate of the downtrodden, even daring to defy the royal justice council. Then discovering that strange inscription in my father’s book of fairy lore, signed by some unknown person whose initial wasS. Andnow this odd behavior of the king. Always more questions and never any answers.
I seethed with frustration, but I was obliged to suppress it. Not long after the king’s encounter with me, he appeared to grow weary of greeting his subjects. He retreated toward the end of the hall where his throne awaited him, the majordomo trotting after him like a faithful hound.
As the king eased himself down onto the velvet cushion, Mercato joined him upon the dais. The sleeve of the sorcerer’s robe fell back as he rested one long elegant hand along the back of the throne. Any foolish hope I entertained about daring to approach the king was put to rest by his sinister magician hovering by his side.
Another trumpet sounded and the majordomo announced it was time for the presentation of the royal princes. The crowd surged forward to mill about the foot of an enormous staircase sweeping up to the balcony overlooking the ballroom. Ladies behaved with an unbecoming lack of decorum, shoving, and pushing in their efforts to get to the front. Somehow, I became separated from Em and my stepsisters, perhaps because I was distracted.
I spied an arch half hidden behind the banners hanging near the throne. It had to be the door that Mal had described to me, the one that would lead down to the restricted part of the palace and the king’s treasure room. What Mal had failed to mention was that the archway would be guarded by two fierce soldiers.
How in the world had Mal ever thought I would be able to sneak past not only the king on his throne, but also the watchful eyes of his wizard and two burly Scutcheons armed with halberds? I knew exactly how. Those glass slippers. Mal had truly expected their magic to work.
Now I would have to rely on my own ingenuity to get past that arch, but I had not the slightest idea how. Theprospect of success appeared utterly hopeless. I was roused from my despairing thoughts by the sound of the majordomo announcing, “His Royal Highness, the Prince Kendrick.”
I dragged my attention from the door to the blond youth standing at the top of the stairs. He was clad in a white uniform with gold buttons and a sash cutting diagonally across his chest. The assembly bowed and curtsied as the prince descended the stairs. Kendrick beamed and acknowledged their greetings with nods to either side. I recollected that he was noted for being the charming one and I could only marvel at how he could maintain that constant smile.
Another blast of the herald’s trumpet and the servant intoned, “His Royal Highness, the Prince Dashiel.”
Clad in the same white uniform as Kendrick, another blond prince descended the stairs.
“And His Royal Highness, the Prince Dahl.”
The next prince bounded down the stairs in an undignified manner. Dahl was almost an exact copy of his brother Dashiel except for one small detail. I was amused to note that Prince Dahl’s fingernails appeared ragged. The boy was obviously a nail biter. The king leaned forward to growl at the young prince. Dahl hastily drew forth the gloves he had shoved inside his trouser pockets and put them on.
The crowd dutifully paid their respects to the twin princes, but I could sense the anticipation building, the impatience for the arrival of Prince Florian. I finally espied Commander Crushington near the foot of the stairs. I almost did not recognize him because he had shaved off his beard. Had he done that for me?
If he had, I heartily approved. I had never fully appreciated what a handsome man he was, the candlelight giving a blue-black sheen to his hair. With his upright military bearing, he appeared far more regal than any of these insipid blond boys.
Horatio also spotted me, and his face lit up. I confess my heart missed a beat and he seemed to draw me toward him with the sheer force of his gaze.
The trumpet sounded again, and His Royal Highness Prince Ryland was announced. I paid little heed as I wriggled my way through the crowd, heading toward the commander. I finally emerged into the clearing at the bottom of the staircase. Focused upon reaching Horatio, I blundered straight into the path of the oncoming prince.
I nearly lost my balance, but Prince Ryland’s gloved hand caught my elbow to steady me. I could hear titters of laughter from the crowd, and I blushed with embarrassment. But the prince kindly inquired, “Are you all right, miss?”
