I return to our bed-chamber, but Destan isn't there. I spend the afternoon waiting for him to return and contemplating the morning's events. I barely have time to sort through my thoughts on my reunion with Morel before dusk falls and a faint knock sounds at the door.
Heart racing, I rush to the door and yank it open. When I see a maid standing on the other side, my stomach sinks. Where is Destan? I can't help but think he's avoiding me.
"Ma'am," the young human woman says with a curtsy. She holds a large box in her hands. "A gift from Edmund Morel. He sent me to help you get ready for tonight's ball."
My mouth falls open as I commit myself to decline. I don't feel like dancing. I don't feel like putting on a fancy gown. I don't feel like going to a ball in a strange, magical realm on my own. But something in me begs to comply. Curiosity perhaps. A part of me wants to know what Morel found here that was worth abandoning me for.
"Come in. Thank you." I step aside and the girl crosses to place the large box on the bed. She unties its ribbons and lifts the cover to reveal a bodice of sheer, nude silk, embroidered with silver sequins, gold glass beads, pearls, and faceted crystals. The embroidery ebbs and flows to follow the contours of the female shape with gaps that leave just enough to the imagination.
"Morel wants me to wear this?" I ask, almost stunned at the gown's beauty and boldness.
"I... suppose." the maid lifts the dress from the box and I am equally stunned by the skirt. The embroidery on the bodice melds into a skirt of white ostrich feathers that gradually shift to a pale pink at the bottom of the dress. "There's nothing else in here."
"It will do fine."
We retreat to the bathing chamber where the maid assists me with my hair. She takes the loose curls in deft fingers and braids a plaited crown atop my head, then twists and pins the rest of my hair into a loose shape at the nape of my neck. While she works, the bed-chamber door opens with a groan and a click of the latch. Footsteps shuffle through the adjoining room as someone moves around.
"Destan?" I call out, but he doesn't respond.
Fabric shushes against skin as someone removes their clothes.
My maid continues her work and I hold my breath as I strain to hear what Destan is doing in the other room. After minutes of pained silence, a pair of boots clomp across the floor and stop at the door to the bathing chamber.
My heart pounds in my ears and my lungs scream for breath as I wait for him to knock. He must change his mind because the footsteps retreat from the door and get quieter. The bed-chamber door snicks closed and he is gone.
"All finished, Ma'am," the maid says with a proud grin.
I examine her work in the mirror and I gasp. She has left curls loose to frame my face and the whole look is something wild and undone. It's better than anything I could have managed, or even imagined, for myself. "Amazing..." I reach up to twist a curl away from my eye.
"Shall I help you get dressed?"
"If you don't mind."
We return to the bed-chamber where Destan has left the clothes he was wearing this morning tossed over a chair. My gown is still spread out across the bed where we left it. The maid takes the gown and unbuttons the back while I gingerly remove the Grecian dress, careful not to mess up her wonderful handiwork on my hair.
I step up to the dress and hold out my arms to step inside, but the girl eyes my stays and underpetticoat. "Is something wrong?" I ask.
"Well..." She blushes and looks to the floor. "This gown is made to be worn against the bare skin. It has a flesh-colored lining, but it might look... odd with something underneath."
I can't help it, but my cheeks heat too. "I see. Turn around then." I grab the dress and she turns her back to me. I drop my petticoat quickly, but I fumble with the strings of my stays. The knots eventually come loose and I slip it down over my hips. A cool breeze through the window sends a shiver over my skin and I hurry to step into the gown. I slide my arms through the sheer sleeves and clutch the bodice to my chest.
"You can turn around," I tell the maid. She moves to my back and buttons the dress. When she stops low on my back, I turn to give her a questioning look.
"You're ready," she says.
"Really?" I cross to the mirror in the bathing chamber. The skirts are remarkably heavy, and they make a soft rustle as they brush against my legs and drag along the floor behind me. I turn to get a better view of the back. The front neckline is a straight line that falls just above my collarbones. The back of the dress bares almost the entirety of my back in a plunging V.
"You look very beautiful, Ma'am." The girl eyes the dress wistfully. "I might almost mistake you for one of them." She curtsies and scurries out of the room with her head down, probably headed to help another guest with their hair and clothing.
I slip on a pair of blush pink court shoes from the suspiciously helpful wardrobe and head down to the ball alone.
~
The ballroom is full of Fae in radiant attire, but I'm early enough that the music hasn't started. As I search the crowd for Destan, I feel surprisingly underdressed. The Fae women wear gowns much more elaborate than mine, many of them studded from head to toe in glittering gems. The Fae men wear their Renaissance-looking doublets and are draped in elaborate braiding and trimmed in luxurious furs. Many of the ensembles are charmed like the Queen's dress the night before. When a woman brushes past me, she leaves a wetness on my arm and a second glance reveals that her sparkling capelet is a web of spider silk dripping with morning dew.
I spin around, trying to catch another glimpse of magic, but I turn to find Morel standing behind me with two crystal goblets of dark crimson liquid. His golden curls are swept elegantly to the side and he wears a black velvet tunic embroidered with a simple diamond pattern in gold thread.
His eyes widen and he takes a step back in shock. "Dieu! You look..." His mouth flops open and closed as he tries to find the words. "Stunning."
I roll my eyes. "You have interesting taste in gowns."
"But you wear it so well. You must sit for me while you're wearing this gown for you would make such a lovely subject." He steps in close and hands me a glass. After I take it, he reaches up and twirls one of my loose curls around his finger, brushing my cheek in the process.
"You want to paint me?" I ask as a lump forms in my throat. Long I have wanted this. His undivided attention. For him to look at me as a man looks at a woman. Not just as a master looks at his apprentice. I want to feel pleased, acknowledged, but I still can't get around a hollow feeling in my chest. Maybe this isn't what I so desperately wanted after all this time.
"I will buy you all the gowns you want if you will let me paint your portrait," he coos.
I clear my throat as my concern about his abandonment scatters what feelings of attraction I may have towards him. "I don't think there will be time. I will be leaving at the Queen's earliest convenience."
Morel's mouth forms a thin line. "Is this about all that revolutionary business?"
"Of course—" I pause when I see Destan's face in the crowd. His gaze meets mine for a fleeting moment before he turns away and disappears into the crush.
Morel checks behind himself to see what I'm looking at, but Destan is gone. "Please." he looks back at me. "Let me show you what you're missing."
He offers me his hand but I don't take it. Instead, I use both hands to pick up my feathered skirt so I can walk more easily.
Morel escorts me through the crowd of Fae. I notice a rare few have unique skin tones like Prince Oberon. We pass a woman with soft pink skin and another with the purple coloring of an orchid. In an adjoining room, a feast is laid out on a long table. Tall tapered candles light the table with a glow that makes the Alsaecian bounty of fruits look all the more enticing.
It suddenly reminds me of an old story I used to hear in the orphanage. The details escape me, but it was a cautionary tale that warned children not to eat the vittles of the Fae.
Morel seems to sense my hesitation as he helps himself a golden pastry covered in a sticky glaze. "Don't worry." He holds the pastry out to me. "Those are just old wive's tales. The food won't turn your mind to madness, though you might want to watch out for the music. Dancing in Alsaecia can be quite intoxicating."
"Dancing?" I take the pastry and nibble off a corner. Inside is a sweet mixture of chopped fruit, nuts, and spices that dance playfully across my tongue.
"You'll see. You must try it at least once — I'll make sure you don't get carried away."
A fanfare echoes through the towering chambers and people start to meander towards the ballroom. I shove the last bite of the pastry into my mouth and Morel grins as I try to chew daintily behind my hand.
"Come along. You won't want to miss the Queen's grand entrance," Morel says. He takes my hand, tucks it into the crook of his elbow, and leads me back to the ballroom. Many lanterns lit with candles and fluttering strips of fabric in reds and golds hang from the branches of the great tree above the dais.
The fanfare continues and the crowd turns to the ballroom's grand staircase. My eyes are drawn elsewhere by the unshakable feeling that I'm being watched. As if I can sense eyes on the back of my neck, I glance over my shoulder and find Destan in the crowd behind me. Our eyes meet and he holds my gaze unflinchingly, his face filled with the same pain I'd seen on it this morning. I want to look away, but I can't. He's wearing a pale blue doublet that makes his eyes seem twice as vibrant, white hose, and black leather boots that come up to his knees. Without glamour to hide the flawless elegance of his Fae features, he is a beautiful creature to behold.
"Are you watching?" Morel's voice pulls my attention back to the Queen's arrival.
"Yes," I mutter when I realize the Queen has already made it halfway down the staircase.
Her gown is dark green with a bright purple ruffle on the collar of the bodice that makes her look like a thistle. The skirts of her dress are enchanted to resemble a winter mist that moves in swirls of white and grey and leaves a trail of fleeting tendrils in her wake.
"What kind of magic can they do here?" I ask Morel. "I know the Fae have special abilities, but can they cast spells too?"
"Anyone in Alsaecia can create enchantments, as they call them," Morel whispers. "The magic is part of this realm. It's in the plants, animals, water — the very air we're breathing, but you need a special recipe to bind the magic up in an enchantment to use it — a very tricky process. I'm told it takes lots of experience to get the hang of. There's a library full of books of enchantments, but the Queen keeps the best ones locked away for herself. You're welcome to try all the enchantments you want while you're here."
Magic. The impossibility of it all intrigues me, but I won't abandon my cause for enchanted dresses and magic spells.
The crowd parts for the Queen as she crosses the ballroom floor in a swath of mist. I feel the air chill as she passes and heads straight for Destan. He steps out of the multitude of Fae and inclines his head towards the Queen. When he lifts his head, he fixes her with that brilliant smile. Jealousy sours the pastry sitting in my stomach. I look away so I don't have to see him take her hand and lead her onto the dance floor for the first dance.
"What is her name? No one calls her by it," I ask Morel.
The orchestra in the gallery meanders into a haunting tune that reminds me of the howl and rattle of north winds through bare tree branches and blades of grass glittering with frost.
"No one knows. Names have power here. You cannot be enchanted if your enchanter doesn't know your name."
"How is that possible?"
Destan and the Queen twirl and glide across the dance floor with ethereal grace. The dance is stunning and elaborate — like something out of a ballet or an opera.
"The Fae choose their own names and don't share it with another soul unless they would trust them with their life. They'll give false names as they please, but often the only Fae who know each other's names are mates — the exchanging of names is part of the sealing of the mating bond."
Oh... Does Destan have a name I don't know?
I watch Destan dance with the Queen and I can't deny they make a beautiful pair with their matching dark hair.
"Would you like to dance?" Morel asks as other couples join in on the intricate dance.
"Oh no. I wouldn't know any of the motions," I reply with a chuckle.
"Nonsense," Morel says. "The music is enchanted with dance steps inside the notes. You don't need to know the motions — the song will guide you."
I glance at the dance which grows more frantic with each measure. I get dizzy watching all the twirling and my cheeks threaten to blush at the sight of all the embracing that happens between partners.
"I think, perhaps, I need something more to eat and a little liquid courage before I attempt anything like that." I look away after Destan slides a hand up the Queen's back to cradle her head and dips her over his knee.
"As you wish," Morel says. "But first I want to show you something." He scoops up my hand and tucks it into the crook of his elbow.
We cross through the ballroom crowds and exit into a long gallery with arched windows on one wall and paintings and statues lining the other. Courtiers trickle through the gallery, which seems to be the place for hushed conversation and a not-so-secret Rendez-Vous.
Many of the paintings are landscapes of the Alscaecian gorges and waterfalls. Many are portraits in similarity to the fastidious portraits still painted at Versailles. Morel stops us in front of a painting of the Queen. She sits on her throne of tree roots, looking beautiful and imperious.
"My latest work," Morel says with eagerness. "What do you think? I don't think I've ever painted a more beautiful subject."
"It's..." I fumble for something to say. It's stiff. Dull. Lifeless. "It's..."
"I know." Morel's voice falls. He takes both my hands and turns me to face him. "The Queen doesn't like it either. See, this is why I brought you here. Florette, I have discovered the secret of my success."
I can barely breathe as his blue eyes sparkle with emotion.
Morel draws in a shuddering breath. "It's you." He squeezes my hands tighter and my legs quiver like they may buckle underneath me. "We were made to work together, you and I. We were an unstoppable team."
"We were," I reply coldly. "And then you abandoned me." My voice trembles and a lump forms in my throat.
"I know." Morel shakes his head and takes a step closer to me. "I never should have left you and I will make it up to you starting today and every day after. Just think of the work we could do together. Here."
"I—I don't know!" I groan. "Do you even know what you're asking of me? Leave my home — my entire world behind? Abandon my friends?"
"I'm asking you to stay here. With me." He takes another step closer and suddenly I can feel his breath on my cheek, the heat of his body seeping through the thin silk of my gown. My heart pounds so loudly in my ears that it drowns all other sounds in the gallery. "I need you," he murmurs.
And then he kisses me.