Page 290 of Naughty Nelle

Actually, I do remember Midas mentioning something about Faraway and a fundraiser at that disastrous dinner last week. And so did Urma, my masseuse. I don’t get it, but this is hardly the time for a little Q&A session.

The crowd applauds wildly and breaks into “Go, Faraway” cheers.

The King takes a humble bow. “Thank you all, my friends. Now let’s get this party started!”

The orchestra begins to play. Marcella yanks Gallant onto the dance floor. My heart tanks.

“Dahling, shall we dance?” asks The Emperor. Not waiting for my response, he whisks me onto the dance floor and swirls me around to the flow of the music. I follow him with ease though I’ve never danced like this before. My eyes all the while stay glued on Gallant.

And across the expansive ballroom, his eyes stay locked on me. Noticing what’s going on, Marcella’s eyes shoot poison darts my way. Except they keep missing.

The music stops. Armando and I find ourselves brushed up against the soon-to-be newlyweds. Venom pours out of Marcella’s eyes as Gallant’s stay fixated only on me. My heart is slamming against my chest. Any second, it may actually spill out.

The music starts up again.

“Your Royal Highness, may I have the pleasure of dancing with your lovely Princess-in-Waiting?” asks Armando.

“The pleasure is mine,” says Gallant brightly.

Marcella gapes. Before she can get out a single word, The Emperor waltzes her away. Crippled by her shoes, she can barely keep up with him. Her face contorts with agony. And if that’s not enough, everyone keeps stepping on her long train.

Alone, Gallant and I gaze at one another, each afraid to make a move. My heart is throbbing. My knees are buckling. I don’t know how much longer I can take it. Minutes feel like eternity. Finally, My Prince sweeps me away…

And I’m his Princess. Melting in his arms, I lose sight of everyone around me. My body follows his as if we’re sewn together. As if we’ve danced this way forever somewhere in another world. A world where he’s now taking me. I’m no longer in this ballroom, and my feet no longer touch the ground. I’m in heaven, floating with him across the clouds. Just like in my dream. Only this isn’t a dream; it’s really happening. And in place of a mask, I see the face of The Prince. My beautiful Prince.

The music stops and sends me crashing back to reality. The King has another announcement. Gallant grips my hands in his. His pulse is racing.

“My beloved royal friends, it is my pleasure to announce that tonight you will witness the marriage of my son, Prince Gallant, to his lovely princess to be, Miss Marcella Méchante.”

My heart has just been tossed off a cliff. It plunges into darkness as Marcella hobbles up to Gallant. She shoves me aside. Everything inside me is dying.

Marcella grabs Gallant’s hand. “Come, my love. It’s time.”

The Prince stands there motionless. And then he turns to look at me one last time. With such longing, I’m brought back to life.

“Do you, Marcella, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?” asks The King.

“You bet your royal…I mean, I do,” says Marcella.

I’m dying again. How am I still standing?

“And do you, my son, take this woman to be your wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or—”

“Hold it right there,” butts in Marcella. “Your Majesty, can’t we just cut to the chase!”

The Prince turns to face Marcella.

My heart is about to implode. It takes all I have to stay on my feet.

“Father, I d…”

Suddenly, a voice screams out from the crowd.

“Papa, you can’t!” It’s Calla! In tears, she runs up to her father and flings her arms around him.

“Beat it, you little imp,” screams Marcella, grabbing Calla by the hair. Gallant forcefully shoves her away.

He lifts Calla into his arms. “What is it, My Little Princess?” he asks, his voice tender, loving, and full of concern.

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