The inside of the castle was as transformed as its exterior, with lights twinkling everywhere. Ellie had often seen it decorated for dances and other special occasions, yet something about this night was different, and she didn’t believe the difference was only in her perception. Perhaps she had brought magic with her from the Gamekeeper’s house?
Older guests congregated in the large seating area in the lobby, most of them beautifully dressed and the ladies glittering with jewels. A few wore masks, but most didn’t bother. A masquerade was for the young people. Small children and their hovering nannies dashed here and there, and staff members rushed about on errands. Ellie sensed curiosity and admiration from people she passed, and she wondered if they sensed the magic surrounding her as well.
Tonight she could do anything, be anything. And more than anything else, she wished to dance with Prince Omar of Khenifra and be seen by others as his equal, not in rank but in value. Omar was a good dancer, she knew, having watched him furtively over the years at many events. Not a particularly inspired dancer, but expertly trained and graceful. Ellie had always considered herself his opposite, inspired but not trained. Now she knew better, and the knowledge fueled her excitement and anticipation.
As she approached the ballroom, brownies darted past her feet. The guests could not see them and even overlooked the objects they carried, and the little creatures nimbly dodged feet and skirts without dropping a fork or a chocolate biscuit. Every one of them greeted Ellie by name, and not one seemed to notice her unusual appearance.
Sira, carrying a stack of dirty plates, paused to address her, concern etched in her small brown forehead beneath a neat white cap. “Miss Ellie, Geraldo has sworn to steal a cake off the dessert table tonight, and he’s persuaded the other hobgoblins to help him. You know they will end up dumping it on the floor and allow children to take the blame!”
Ellie couldn’t help smiling. The hobgoblins’ purpose in life seemed to include doubling the brownies’ workload. Yet Sira worried only about trouble for the human children.
“I will try to keep an eye on him,” she said. “Everything looks amazing, Sira. Please share my appreciation with the other brownies.”
Sira merely nodded before trotting away. “Enjoy yourself, Miss Ellie.” Her little voice trailed behind her.
“Thank you, Sira.”
A few guests watched Ellie talk to the floor, their faces revealing doubt of her sanity, yet not one said a word. She beamed a general smile at the spectators then picked up her skirts and hurried toward the ballroom door. Music floated into the hall, a modern love song. The live bands always played a variety of dance tunes to satisfy guests of all ages and nations.
She paused in the doorway before entering. Often she had imagined entering this room as a guest, but never once had she believed her daydream could come true. Would it end in bliss or in nightmare?
Music, conversation, and laughter filled the air, along with delectable scents from the buffet tables. The floor, polished to a mirror shine, reflected the gleaming chandeliers and strings of lights, resembling a starlit lake. Couples floated over the dance floor, their attire ranging from elegant ballgowns, modern cocktail dresses, and tuxedos to historical or national costumes. Everyone on the dance floor wore a mask of some kind, as did most of those on the outskirts. Ellie identified a few people yet thought it strange how even the simplest mask could transform a friend into a mysterious stranger. But she could delve behind the masks if she tried . . .
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.