Reuniting Gemini

Part 3

Standing at the top of the staircase, I look down on all the people that have inhabited the ballroom. Everyone has a mask on their face.

Luckily for me, I've been reminded that the men with black masks are the princes, and no one else has been allowed to wear that color.

Unfortunately for me, I am the only one wearing purple and it'll be impossible to miss me in the crowd.

"Can we have your attention please? Now announcing the appearance of miss Estelle Kennedy." Jenkins' voice booms. As a result, all of the eyes are once again on me.

I descend the staircase, softly gazing from masked face to mask face. Taking special notice of all the black masks in the room is a piece of cake, the thought of knowing they're keeping their eyes on me is not.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch the disappearing shadow of swift movement. It's unusual for people to move before I've entered the crowded dance floor with a partner.

At the immediate moment my heels clack against the marble of the floor, someone is at my side, hand extended for me to take.

"May I have this dance miss Estelle?" a voice thunders over me, causing rippling goosebumps to cross my skin.

At my left is Quincey Langford, a prince from the distant land to the south. I never can remember the name as I've never cared for the likes of him anyway. One can only be forced on so many walks through the garden before the flowers lose their charm. Especially the likes of Quincey.

"As you wish, sir Langford." I clench through my teeth, holding back the wave of nausea threatening to send me back to the ladies room.

I take his arm as he leads us to the center of the dance floor. He's always been one for the spotlight. Tonight will be no different.

His hand finds my hip, admittedly a bit too low for comfort. If I say anything for myself he'll go running to his dad. Then he'll tell my parents and ugh, I'd never hear the end of it.

We pick up a Foxtrot, the dance that is always danced first, as tradition carries on.

"You know Stella, if I had you on my arm we could rule more than half of this continent together. I could be your king." Quincey rubs small circles on the ball of my thumb, a trick I'd never thought he would use against me.

"I told you not to call me Stella. I've never liked it. I have no idea why you carry on with it anymore."

I guess there was a time when I liked to hear the way it sounded coming off his tongue. Back when we were young teenagers I thought the nickname made me special, but now it only calls upon darkness when repeated.

"Awe come on, Stel-la. It can be like when we were younger, you can play my queen again, you were fantastic at it back then." He licks his lips and blows a kiss on the top of my head.

I don't think I can take it.

I've had enough.

Pulling away from his grasp, I avoid his eyes and curtsy the best that I can. If I promise the rest of my life to that asshole, I might as well just kill myself now. I'd never last in there.

-:-:-:-:-:-

After what feels like a thousand dances, I excuse myself for some air. Even without coaxing my feet lead me off to the private balcony. My solace.

Leaning against the wrought iron railing, I catch myself relaxing beneath the stars.

Maybe it's Celestia's Palace beginning to rub off on me, or the moment of peace after endless streams of sound, but I've never felt so accepted in my life.