Kit was standing in a large drawing room just outside the ballroom, lightly pacing back and forth. Ella was late. He knew that it took women much longer to dress – especially for a ball – but he didn't think it would take this long! Alistair had already come into the room twice to check and see if Ella had arrived, leaving both times with a slight frown.
Sighing heavily, Kit unconsciously fingered the mask in his hands. He and Ella had returned from the Seaside Cottage almost a week ago. He couldn't believe what had transpired since then. He'd given Ella the last of her presents - a music box that played Lavender's Blue (the tune she had sung the day he'd found her at the Ezzell Estate) and a hound pup that Ella took to immediately, christening him Bruno – and he'd also set plans to take care of the Durington affair immediately.
Though tonight's ball was to celebrate the wedding to take place in two days, Kit was going to deal with Count Welling. Ella had agreed that the night would be perfect because they could pull the Count aside while the festivities were distracting the other nobility and common folk; they didn't want the reprimand to be a public display.
There was a soft knock on the door and Kit turned just as it opened. His heart stopped before taking off like a hummingbird's wings. She stood wearing a gown of the deepest brown with leaves embroidered in gold, orange, and fiery red swirling all around the fabric like an invisible wind was blowing them two and fro. A part of her long blonde hair was pulled back, the locks being held in place by silver clasps fashioned in the form of twigs with gold plated leaves. A brown mask covered her eyes the sides outlined with small painted leaves the same color as her dress. Ella's attire signified Autumn. Kit had to chuckle quietly as he realized his outfit displayed Summer, the happy colors of green, blue, and accents of yellow making up his attire.
Stepping forward, he took Ella's hand and kissed it. "My lady," he muttered, "You are exquisite."
Ella's brown eyes, heightened in color from the mask, sparkled as she replied, "I thank you very much for the compliment. I apologize for keeping you waiting; they were having difficulty fixing my hair properly."
Kit grinned. "After seeing the end result, the wait was worth the effort."
Ella blushed.
There was a slight knock and Alistair peeked around the door before coming inside. He was wearing his usual uniform with a white mask resting over his forehead at the moment. He sent Ella a warm smile before addressing Kit. "Are the two of you ready, Your Majesty? The guests are getting quite restless."
Ella looked upset. "I am sorry," she said again. "I know they have been waiting for a while."
"Ella, relax," Kit soothed. "They've had plenty to occupy them. Since this is a ball where we are introducing ourselves, it is natural to be the last ones onto the dance floor. Besides, they've entertained themselves with a few dances, plenty of food, and enough gossip to fill their ears for at least three weeks."
Ella nodded though she still looked upset. Kit caught Alistair's eye and the Grand Duke took the hint to leave them alone. The second the door was closed, Kit took Ella gently by the shoulders and ran circles over them with his thumbs. "Ella, darling, tell me what is truly on your mind?"
Her adorable brown eyes shifted back and forth a couple of times. "I'm nervous," she confessed. "I've been introduced to the nobility already but royal families from the neighboring kingdoms are here including the Princess Chelina of Zaragosa."
Kit furrowed his brow. "Why would that matter?"
Ella frowned. "Kit, I'm a common servant turned into a future queen. I haven't been raised as they have. I still have plenty of lessons on how to be a queen to accomplish. I feel so unprepared! What if I embarrass you?"
Kit looked into her eyes before gently kissing her soft lips. "My dearest Ella," he chided gently, "remember what I told you all those days ago when I asked for your hand? I'm marrying a good honest country girl, not a princess or a woman of nobility. Don't try to pretend to be something you're not. Simply go out there and be you. I promise those stuffy, holier-than-thou nobles and royals will be blown away as I have been. Have courage and be kind, remember? That's all you have to do."
Ella searched his eyes, her shoulders relaxing as a warm smile lit her face. "You know, since coming to the palace I have been terrified of allowing everyone to see the real me in fear they would reject what they saw. I have been unsure of myself and very unlike how I have always been. But in my moments of weakness, you have helped me remember that it is alright to be a good honest country girl. Thank you." She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I needed to hear that," she muttered, pulling away.
Kit smiled. "Are you ready now?"
Ella's face filled with a determined fire, the same he had seen the day she walked towards him laying her true self at his feet before trying on the slipper in his hands. "I'm ready," she said, brimming with confidence.
Kit slipped his mask over his eyes before taking her hand and leading her from the room. They were to be introduced by Nigel and then entertain their guests with a waltz before mingling and dancing the rest of the night. Kit wasn't looking forward to sharing Ella with the other men in the room but she had gently reminded him that she would never have eyes for another man and it was tradition which needed to be upheld. Inwardly sighing, the two walked down the hall to the large oak doors that were currently shut, two servants dressed in their palace finest, waiting to open them as a dramatic entrance.
Ella took in a small breath and Kit squeezed her hand. "Are you alright?" he muttered.
She nodded. "The last time I was here, these doors were closed."
Kit grinned. "Is it going to become a habit for you to make dramatic entrances?"
Ella pursed her lips playfully at him over the light tease. "I just might. I need to make an impression somehow."
Kit laughed lightly before signaling the servants to open the doors. Immediately the sounds of incomprehensible chatter and the smells of luxurious food heightened Kit's senses. The bright lights of the ballroom temporarily stung his eyes as he led Ella onto the balcony, displaying the entire ballroom to their view. Nigel, having been waiting for their appearance, slammed his long stick against the hard floor three times, gaining the enormous crowds attention. Silence filled the hall.
"His Majesty, King Christopher of Aritess and the Lady Ella Ezzell of Aritess," Nigel announced, his voice ringing off the stone walls.
Everyone held their breath as Kit led Ella down the steps to the dance floor which cleared immediately. Their footsteps echoed, being the only sound. Kit felt Ella tense next to him and squeezed her hand comfortingly, the only indication he dared make in front of so many people at the moment. Coming to a halt in the middle of the ballroom, Kit turned to face Ella. A warm smile graced his features as he gazed upon his bride-to-be.
As if transported back in time, Kit gently reached forward and wrapped his hand around Ella's waist, drawing her closer to him. Just as before, she gasped in excitement, her eyes searching his as she tried to control her breathing. Kit silently laughed over how adorable she was. The music filled the hall and the two began to sway. The dance was highly enjoyable by both and the crowd made small gasps of approval as Kit hoisted Ella a couple of times in the air, spinning her around. By the time the music ended and Ella graced him with an elegant curtsy, Kit was positively elated. Dancing with Ella had been arousing before but something about tonight seemed different; perhaps it was the knowledge that in two days, he would be married to the angel before him. Whatever the case, the second she took his offered hand, he wanted nothing more than to pull her away from the crowds and kiss her senseless.
Denying himself such pleasure, he turned his attention to their audience and addressed them after the applause had died down. "Your Majesties, lords, ladies, distinguished guests, and my people, we welcome you tonight and wish to express our thanks in honoring us with your presence to celebrate this wondrous occasion! The night my father passed, he instructed me not to marry for advantage but for love and I want every person in this room to know that I, without doubt, love the Lady Ella with all my heart. I pray that each of you will come to know for yourselves why she has so captured my heart as you get to know her and see the extraordinary woman she is. Let the festivities commence!"
A cheer rent the air and soon the dance floor was filled with other couples who eagerly consisted of the nobility and neighboring kingdoms, the distinguished visitors desperate to get in a word with both Kit and Ella. Kit noticed that the common folk, though dressed well, held back almost as if they were unsure whether or not they too should be swarming the couple. Kit made a mental note to mingle with them throughout the evening.
The next hour was filled with greeting, light conversation, laughter, and dancing as Kit entertained and mingled with the neighboring royals and nobles of his land. He tried to keep his eye on Ella, who had been separated from him several times as men sought her hand for a dance and women demanded her attention so as to learn more about her. She seemed to hold an air of confidence about her as she spoke to each, Kit noticing her face light up with laughter occasionally while in the midst of visiting princesses and queens. He smiled.
"She seems to be holding her own rather well."
Kit turned to see Alistair had finally managed to fight his way to his side. It helped that Kit was now resting near one of the walls, trying to stay away from the dance floor for a time; he'd barely gotten away from his last dance partner, a duchess who'd stepped on his toes more than the floor through the entire ordeal.
"Indeed she does," Kit muttered while wincing as he moved his toes, assessing the damage.
Alistair chuckled quietly. "You managed to survive the last dance quite well."
Kit frowned. "I don't know what you mean, Alistair."
"How are your feet?" Alistair asked, barely containing his laughter.
"They'll survive," Kit groaned, giving in. "That woman must never had proper dance instructors."
"That or she had similar ones to your mother."
Kit chuckled. "Indeed!"
It was then that Peter materialized out of the crowd, bowing slightly. "Your Majesty," he addressed, "I've located Count Welling. Would you like for me to arrange an audience?"
Kit sighed. "I suppose that will do."
"Is the Lady Ella going to join you during the encounter?" Alistair asked.
Kit shook his head. "No. We realized it would cause suspicion if both of us were to disappear even for a small fraction tonight. We don't want people to have something to gossip about."
"A wise decision on the whole, I believe," Alistair commented.
Kit smiled. "It was Ella's idea. I suggested she be there but she insisted that she didn't want to draw attention to the situation. Peter, I'll meet the Count in the drawing room opposite to the ballroom in ten minutes. Can you see to it that he arrives?"
Peter bowed. "Of course, Your Highness."
Turning to Alistair, Kit smiled at him amused. "I take it that you find this whole affair rather difficult?"
"I am not used to having to be the entertainer, Sire," Alistair confessed with a mock frown. "I prefer silently watching from the sidelines."
"Too bad you can no longer be a wallflower then," Kit grinned. "I trust that you will keep the nobility distracted while I deal with this little incident?"
"That is one of my many unfortunate tasks, Kit," Alistair muttered before walking away to address a large group that had been eyeing Kit for the past two minutes. Glancing back and forth, Kit waited until it was safe to slip away. As he disappeared into the hall, he didn't notice the man staring after him with a large smirk on his handsome face. The second Kit disappeared, the man immediately began making his way to where Ella was standing.
o0o0o
Ella had just barely finished dancing with Count Randull and was rather winded; the man was apparently notorious for flinging his companions around in impulsive twirls in any dance he undertook. Breathing heavily, Ella tried to compose herself amidst the edges of the dance floor. Just when she thought she was safe from being asked for another dance, a man stepped in front of her and it took all her concentration not to grimace. It was Lord Duherst.
"My dear Lady Ella," he said in a sugarcoated tone, "you appear quite flushed. Are you alright?"
Ella tried to smile though she didn't like this man one bit. It wasn't in her nature to judge others so harshly but every encounter she previously had with Lord Duherst involved him expressing some form of romantic affection for her. The way his dark grey eyes raked over her body and his thin lips pulled into a hungry smirk made Ella's skin slightly crawl. His black hair was sleeked back away from his pale forehead and his outfit was slightly tighter around his barrel-like chest as if in an attempt to boast his brute strength.
"I am rather well, thank you, Lord Duherst," Ella replied with a small, uncomfortable smile.
"My Lady, there is no need to be so formal," he said. "I may be the son of a Duke but surely you can call me by my first name?"
Ella sighed. Should she humor him? That might hasten his departure from her. Why not? "Very well… Sir Andrew." Andrew's grin widened and his eyes flashed in pleasure. Ignoring this, Ella continued, "Were you going to ask me to a dance?"
"A walk, actually," the young lord replied. "As I said before, you appear flushed and therefore in need of one."
Ella frowned. A moment outside did sound positively wonderful but the thought of being alone with Lord Andrew was quite repulsive. But would it be wise to refuse an offer from a gentleman? So far she had been taught in her Queen lessons that it was not only respectable to give attention to the lower nobility but necessary in order to keep peaceful relations. Swallowing the unsettling feelings swirling in her stomach, Ella nodded her consent. "I suppose a short reprieve outside would be well."
Sir Andrew extended his arm and Ella grudgingly took it, allowing him to lead her out towards the grounds. Several people glanced their way but for the most part they kept to themselves and their own conversations. It wasn't uncommon to see the future queen spending time with other men of nobility since she spent just as much time with the women trying to get to know them. Besides, her love for Kit was perfectly sound and none entertained the idea of her capable of betraying his affections.
Ella's unease grew as they not only stepped just outside but continued walking away from the many open doors of the ballroom, heading towards the gardens. Sir Andrew was leading her closer to a path free of other roaming couples.
"I think we should probably turn back now," Ella muttered, beginning to slip her arm out of Sir Andrew's.
The young lord reacted like a cobra, spinning around and pinning Ella against the nearest tree, his hands securely holding her arms in a vise-like grip. Ella cried out in pain as the knots of the tree's fierce bark slammed into several places on her back, her head smacking against the trunk as well.
"S-Sir Andrew?" she gasped, her eyes wildly looking around before finally focusing on his face.
A twisted smile had climbed the man's pale features, his eyes glinting with malicious intent as he leaned in towards her. "Never have I had my prey so indifferent towards my advances," he whispered, leering at her.
Ella struggled in his arms but his grip only tightened, causing her to gasp. "Let me go!" she demanded.
Sir Andrew ignored her. "I can see why the king was so taken by you," he muttered, his eyes hungrily devouring her features. "Such beauty is quite irresistible."
Ella sucked air into her lungs but, before she could scream, Sir Andrew's quick reflexes struck again. Flinging her down to the ground, he grabbed her wrists yanking them above her head. His legs prevented her from rising while his other hand covered her mouth. Ella's chest heaved in terror. She was no fool. She'd heard of situations such as the one she was now in and knew what the usual outcome was. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, her eyes wide with fear. Sir Andrew had led her far enough away that the likelihood of any rescue was slim. The trees on either side covered them from the view of the guards and the noise in the ballroom would make it difficult for any to hear her. No one was coming. Kit was dealing with Count Welling. Tears began to form in Ella's eyes as she struggled beneath the man pinning her to the ground.
Sir Andrew chuckled evilly. "I always preferred a fighter," he whispered as he lowered himself closer to her face. "It makes things more entertaining."
Ella sucked in a deep breath through her nose as she choked out a sob, the air slamming against the man's large hand. Closing her eyes, Ella shuddered in horror as Sir Andrew's nose rested against the side of her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair. She shook her head, trying to fight him off, wiggling her wrists but unable to release herself. His lips were a breath away from the spot where Kit had bestowed her love mark.
Another sob escaped Ella at the terrible realization that another man was about to taint her body and there was nothing she could do! The hand covering her mouth was pressed down so hard that Ella felt her skin might bruise. Her legs kicking against his body were producing little to no effect because the thick materials of her skirt were buffering the blows. She wiggled, she cried, she tried to scream to no avail.
Sir Andrew laughed in her ear. "Struggle all you want," he encouraged darkly, his lips touching her earlobe, making her shiver in horror. "Soon enough you'll be too tired to fight me. Imagine what the king will do when he finds you after I'm finished. Tell me, my lady," he sneered, "do you think he'll still want you?"
Ella's heart constricted. Please, she silently begged, please, someone… help!
Right as she thought these words, Sir Andrew was ripped away from Ella, releasing her mouth and arms painfully. Ella rolled away, yanking the mask away from her eyes and gasping, her body shivering uncontrollably as someone's commanding voice thundered through the night.
"You dare threaten to defile an angel, sir?" the voice snarled.
"Who are you?" Sir Andrew demanded.
Ella looked up in time to see a rather handsome young man with light blonde hair and broad shoulders baring a sword right at Sir Andrew's chest. "Someone who is not going to allow you to accomplish your designs, you foul excuse of a man!" Ella's rescuer stated. "I will not allow you to continue your despicable actions. If I am not mistaken, this woman you were attempting to taint is the future queen of Aritess. To attack her is to attack the King himself, an act of the highest treason."
"Her accusations will fall on deaf ears," Sir Andrew spat, eyeing Ella as if she were the scum of the earth, "a servant girl who slept in ashes versus the word of a nobleman? Who would you believe?"
The shoulders of Ella's rescuer stiffened. "I believe that the King, who is a greater man than you will ever be, would believe his future wife before the likes of you. I should think he would also trust my account of these proceedings as well."
Sir Andrew drew his sword. "Not if you are dead!"
Ella cried out in warning but her rescuer didn't have need of it. He easily sidestepped Sir Andrew's blade, dodging around almost with the grace of a dancer. In one fluid motion, he brought his sword against Sir Andrew's, twisting it from his enemy's grip, before pointing both sharp tips at the offender's throat.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't run you through," the man whispered as Sir Andrew's eyes went wide.
Ella couldn't bear the thought of witnessing someone dying before her eyes, even if the person had just nearly defiled her in a way that most would consider worse than death. "Wait!" she gasped, struggling to her feet. "Please," she begged when the blonde glanced at her.
"My lady?" he questioned, his bright blue eyes observing her.
"Let him go," she whispered. "He means no further harm."
The man stared at her without a word and then lowered the swords. Sir Andrew's chest heaved, watching the man with clear apprehension. The stranger stepped up to him warningly. "If I ever see you attempting to even so much as look upon the lady with lust again, I will split open your stomach and stand over your body until the light leaves your eyes. Do I make myself clear?"
Sir Andrew nodded, terrified, before twisting on his heel and running as far away from the scene as his legs could carry him. Ella fell back onto the ground, her legs unable to support her any longer. She wrapped her arms around her trembling body. She felt like she was going to shatter. Tears streamed down her cheeks as sobs escaped her.
Her rescuer knelt before her, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Ella shivered from the unfamiliar touch, even though it wasn't threatening. She just couldn't stand the thought of having someone touching her right now, not after what happened. "I'm sorry," she gasped as the man removed his hand from her shoulder.
"It is perfectly understandable, my lady," he replied, his tone filled with understanding. "Are you alright?"
Ella swallowed painfully, nodding. "Yes."
"Did he do anything to you?" the man asked, concerned.
"Not much," Ella admitted, rubbing her aching wrists.
"You're hurt," the man muttered, staring at the redden flesh she was gently rubbing.
"It's not so very bad," she muttered. "I'll be fine."
The man stood. "I'll fetch the king."
He turned to walk away but Ella cried out, "Wait!" – He paused – "Who are you?"
A warm smile climbed his handsome face before he dropped into a noble bow. Holding his head high, he declared, "Prince Phillip of Sicily, my lady, at your service."