Midnight in Everwood(35)
‘That is expressly what I had forbidden,’ she heard the captain say.
Retaining a modicum of discretion, Marietta stayed flat on her feet, keeping her turns understated and demure, dancing balancés to the count of the waltz. Adding in little spins and moving into a seamless adagio when the music shifted, becoming slower and more urgent, coaxing a new rhythm from the dancers. Marietta’s fluidity evoked the pattern of water, deep and endless and graceful, her steps light, her arms as feathery as a swan.
Floating past a woman her own age in the inky periphery, Marietta slowed, her attention stolen. The woman wore a plumcoloured dress with iridescent silvery stars stitched into the gauzy overlay. Knee-height, it flared out at her waist and spun up and around her Rubenesque figure as she danced. High-heeled shoes enlaced her ankles, and her short plum curls were arranged around a black headdress that spiked up like twigs, twinkling with diamonds. Her eyes were painted the same shade of plum as her hair and dress, her cheeks fuchsia-pink, her lips glossed in midnight. She was devastating. Yet her glance at Marietta spewed vitriol. Marietta stared back, unflinching. The woman’s lips parted, a single word hissing off her tongue: Leave.
Marietta flinched. First the market woman, now this. For a place well used to wanderers venturing through, it was most unwelcoming. Perhaps that was why most ended up leaving. Yet the ball was charming and it had been some time since her heart had been this light. She danced on. She hadn’t paid the captain and his infuriating orders any heed nor would she this woman either. But her focus had spooled away like smoke, obscuring her steps. She stumbled, leading the two men dancing together behind to collide with her. Their glares hot on her skin, she made her apologies. They tugged the mauve brocade of their matching jackets down and the first held his arm out to the second, who took it with an imperious stare in Marietta’s direction before dancing off, their trousers comprised of ivory ribbons, billowing around them. Another couple whirled by, a woman in a whisper-thin gossamer dress that emitted a sweet vanilla scent like perfume unfurling from flower petals.
Amongst the glittering attendees of the ball, Marietta felt the dullest jewel. So, she rose up on en pointe for the first time, pirouetting back into the stream of dancers, the ballroom rushing around her, the music accelerating with her dancing, dipped into a penché with one leg high behind her, then spun in a tight succession of soutenu turns, spinning faster and faster, ignoring the other dancers pausing to watch. She twirled to a finish before gliding into an arabesque.
When she lowered her leg and caught her breath, she set eyes on the king. He was seated upon his throne, his gaze affixed to her. Fair, with onyx eyes and rich golden hair that swung down to his chin, he wore a crown of interwoven icicles studded with crystals. A long finger rested on his thin lips, one leg in tapered charcoal trousers crossed over the over. White pointed shoes and a black and white striped shirt beneath a woven silver waistcoat completed his monochrome attire. A tiny embroidered mouse scampered down his shirt sleeve and disappeared, appearing moments later on his trousers. Marietta blinked and it vanished.
The music slowed, elongating its notes into melodies that sugared the throne room. Marietta slid onto one of the icy thoroughfares, turning her steps slow and gliding. Her glance back at the soldiers threw up Claren’s flirtatious grin and the map of creases spanning Fin’s forehead.
The captain materialised at her side. His strides were long, maintaining pace with her. ‘It’s time to leave, wanderer,’ he said. ‘At once.’
The other guests had resumed their dancing, though they kept sidling looks at Marietta. She wished she could linger awhile in this dream of a ball. Let its magic seep under her skin. Yet, like a dream, its beauty was sweeter due to its transient nature. She was unsure how much time had passed and feared missing her performance as Aurora. With one last, longing look, she followed the captain.
The music jarred and broke. The other dancers slowed, searching out the cause; the musicians had ceased, their instruments swallowing their notes. A sudden wave of conversation from the cushioned alcoves and igloos was all at once audible before it too leached to silence. Even the servers retreated. The entire ball was suspended.
‘What has happened?’ Marietta asked the captain.
A rare emotion flitted over his expression before he schooled it back into place. ‘It seems you have caught the king’s attention.’
‘Captain,’ the king’s voice boomed through the hallowed silence. ‘For the love of all that is sweet, do tell us who you have there.’
Chapter Eighteen
The ballroom fell silent as Marietta stepped into the centre of the iced floor. She swept into a deep curtsy before the captain reached for her elbow, guiding her back into the crowd. ‘No one of note, Your Majesty. She is but another townswoman,’ he said.
The king smiled. ‘Bring her to me.’
Marietta approached the throne. Now the music had halted, she was all too aware of the whispers misting around her as guests stepped away, carving a path free for her and the captain.
King Gelum descended the steps from the throne to stand before Marietta, evaluating her. He was shorter than he’d appeared from afar and seemed to emit the aroma of spiced cloves and mandarin zest. She met his eyes, and as she did so, she felt the worlds tremble around her. A quivering of the threads the fates had embroidered for her.
He held a slim, tapered hand out to her. She took it and the king twirled her in place, her dress swishing around her knees. He lowered his gaze to her feet, the hard onyx gemstones of his irises glittering in fascination. ‘How lovely,’ he murmured. ‘Would you dance on your toes for me again?’