Ellie and the Prince (Faraway Castle #1)(53)

The girl in green with strawberry-blonde curls had to be the Honorable Gillian, dancing with a young man with golden hair, who steered her effortlessly around the floor and made her look quite good. As they moved closer to Ellie, she recognized Prince Briar. He glanced her way, pale eyes glinting behind his mask. A rush of anticipation and affection flowed toward Ellie—then cut off as if a door had slammed in her face.

But he couldn’t keep everything from her. The instant Ellie met his gaze, she knew he danced with Gillian only to keep her from causing trouble for Omar.

Poor girl. Prince Briar was a rogue. But then, Gillian herself was a shrew, and Ellie couldn’t bring herself to like her.

However, she liked Briar, rogue though he was. Not in a romantic way, but with genuine regard. They had met only days before, yet just now he had recognized her instantly despite her mask and seemed to sense her emotions as clearly as she sensed his.

Her smile turned to a slight frown. How did he manage to shut her out? No one else could, not tonight.

Ellie eased her way further into the room and stood against the wall. This new power of hers could easily become unbearable if she didn’t learn to control it. The emotions and thoughts wafting toward her from all sides were almost overwhelming: hints of yearning, envy, desire, amusement, delight, and sorrow.

Had her glimpses into Prince Briar’s heart enhanced her gift? Or was it the unicorns, or the Gamekeeper? She struggled to block these random impressions and instead focused on individuals.

There was King Aryn at a table near the garden doors, playing cards with three nobles. He was content enough with his hand and his situation, relaxed and confident. Ellie had always liked the king’s earnest face that reflected his inner man.

Queen Sofia sat amid other ladies and talked. The woman’s smooth features and bright smile revealed little of the varied blend of emotions stirring within her. Love—there was so much love in Omar’s mother. Touches of concern as well, but underlying faith and serenity prevented it from lining the queen’s face.

The song ended, and several of the dancers walked off the dance floor and scattered. Others went in search of new partners or simply waited for the next song to begin. Ellie was working up courage to thread her way around the room in search of Omar when someone addressed her in a voice she instantly recognized: “Good evening, mysterious lady in violet. May I have the honor of your next dance?”

Silvery eyes gleamed at her from behind a plain black domino. Ellie grinned. “You may, sir.” Prince Briar was an expert dancer. This should be fun.

He led her to the floor, and as soon as the lively music began and Briar twirled her into a backward dip, she could have laughed for joy. How had she lived without dancing all these years? Facing her and holding her hands, the scoundrel prince from Auvers led her in a series of intricate steps, and Ellie followed him with ease, as if they had practiced these moves together a thousand times, as if this moment had been selected from among her lost memories. He spun her, twirled her in a fancy lift, and she ended the swing dance in a back dip over his knee, her foot in its glass slipper twinkling high in the air. Panting and smiling in delight, Ellie heard applause all around and realized that the other dancers faced them in a wide circle. Several cried out, “Bravo! Bravo! That was amazing!”

As Briar pulled her upright, he laughed, his triumph matching hers. “I knew it,” she gasped between pants. “I knew I could dance! How did you learn to dance so well?”

He gave her a sharp glance, and she didn’t need magic to sense his disappointment. “I took lessons for many years.” A pause. “And you?”

“I . . . I think I did too.”

“You think? You don’t know?”

Ellie stared into his eyes, feeling strangely as though she looked into a mirror. “Briar . . .”

Then his gaze moved past her. “Ah.” He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat, evidently repressing a smile. “Your dance, sir?”

“I hope so.”

Ellie spun to face Omar. She could not read his expression through his mask but sensed waves of uncertainty and hurt. “Omar,” she breathed, and his expression brightened, for in that one word she revealed her feelings for him.

“Dance with me?” His whisper was a plea.

Ellie laid her hand in his and waited for the music to start. Other couples joined them on the floor, but Ellie saw only Omar. He looked amazing in a tuxedo, its snowy collar and cravat bright against his dark skin; and his eyes glittered through the eye-holes of a simple domino. She did not expect him to dance as well as Briar, but it didn’t matter. She was thrilled to dance with him no matter what!

Having no dance card, she had no idea what to expect, so when a trumpet played the first notes, she nearly laughed aloud. A salsa dance? This should be interesting.

But when Omar spun her into a firm hold then began to sway with her to the beat, his eyes locked on hers, she quickly adjusted her expectations and followed his lead.

Dancing with Briar had been fun; this dance was a taste of heaven. Omar danced the salsa with grace and confidence, Ellie’s full skirts swished around her legs and his, and the sultry music seemed to move their bodies with its power. They danced around each other, apart then together, touching and releasing, their eyes locked between spins. Ellie felt as if a lost part of herself had returned, and the sensation was marvelous. Once again, the other dancers circled to watch, clapping and shouting to the rapid beat. And when Omar laid her back over his arm for a spectacular finale, she stared up into his eyes sparkling through his black mask and felt fully alive.