Page 9 of The Midnight Blizzard

“It’s fine. I was just glad she made him happy, even if she and I didn’t always get along.”

Trista nudged me and pointed at the door, where Vallia and Vanessa had just entered the room. They were stunningly beautiful, their gowns were in the latest fashion, and they had spared no effort in getting ready. From the tops of their heads to the bottoms of their pointy-toed shoes, they were perfectly put together. Every strand of hair was neatly in place and their cosmetics had been applied so that their faces were flawless.

“The prince will never look at me now, not compared to them,” I heard a girl lament from behind me.

“Of course he will!” Trista smiled at the girl with long, curly brown hair. “What’s your name?”

“Jasmine.”

“I’m Trista, and this is my friend Noelle. Those are her stepsisters who just came in.”

I waited for Valencia to follow my stepsisters, but she never appeared.

“Maybe she wants her girls to look independent without a parent hovering,” Trista noted, reading my mind as she stared at the entrance as well. “My father said so,which works well for me. Now I can be as unladylike as possible and Papa will never know.” She lowered her voice to Jasmine and told about her plan to sabotage her chances with the prince, which Jasmine found wildly funny.

“Uh-huh,” I answered distractedly, still tracking my stepsisters as they moved through the ballroom, gracefully greeting each person they met with smiles plastered onto their faces. At one point, Vanessa’s gaze drifted toward my side of the room, and my back stiffened, but she gave no indication she’d noticed me. No one would be able to tell that such beauty hid such a horrible personality, and if I accused her of anything here, I would only appear to be a jealous competitor.

“Do you want to talk to them?” Trista asked quietly.

“Not now,” I answered, watching as Vallia laughed at some joke one of the noblemen made. The nobleman looked highly pleased with himself.

For the remainder of the time before the ball officially started, I meandered through the large, crowded ballroom with Trista and Jasmine, actively avoiding my stepsisters. If Vanessa wasn’t there, I might have been willing to approach Vallia, but I didn’t trust her when her sister was nearby. My stepmother still never appeared, and I wondered if she truly wanted her daughters to simply not have their mother hovering nearby. It was possible, though I’d never known her to pass up an opportunity to rub shoulders with anyone wealthier or more important than herself.

As the orchestra shifted from tuning their instruments and playing warmup melodies to performing rehearsed numbers, the tension in the room became nearly tangible. Several young women quivered with excitement, and many already had beads of perspiration dotting their foreheads.

“Ah, Lady Noelle, you’re here. Good, good.” The steward, Octavius, was bustling around with a sheaf of papers, ticking marks next to names as he located each of the fifty assembled women. “And Lady Trista and Lady Jasmine, I have you marked here too. I trust you’re all settled in well?” His question must have been rhetorical, for he scampered away without waiting for any of us to answer. Even the way he moved reminded me of a rodent. His feet shuffled as he scurried rapidly across the floor, his wide midsection never once slowing him down. The herald picked that moment to give several blasts on his trumpet that immediately silenced everyone.

“Their Royal Majesties,” he boomed from the front of the room, “King Wenceslas, Queen Isolde, and their son, Prince Stephen.”

The crowd applauded as the royal family entered the room. King Wenceslas’s hair was peppered with grey, and though he wasn’t a particularly tall man, he had broad shoulders and an expansive chest that had clearly seen many hours training with the military. While Queen Isolde had many more wrinkles than her husband, it looked like they were due to a highly expressive face rather than to her age, and she beamed at each person, waving enthusiastically at many in the crowd. Prince Stephen looked exactly as I imagined a prince would look. He was tall, with his father’s broad shoulders, but he had none of his mother’s charisma. The expression on his face was serious to the point of being almost bored. I thought, given that he had just entered a ballroom packed with eligible young women all eager to marry him, that he would have shown at least a little enthusiasm. He was handsome enough, I supposed, but I much preferred Jack’s roguish looks to Stephen’s pristine and starched appearance.

The moment Stephen descended the stairs, he was immediately engulfed in a sea of pastel-colored dresses as girls all vied to be the one he danced with first. I didn’t think any of them heard or cared about the next several officials who were being introduced, but I did.

Many names and titles were read off, like the chancellor of the exchequer, treasurer, lord chamberlain, and master-at-arms. Following them was a long line of advisors, and I kept my eyes peeled until finally…

“Royal advisor Jack,” the herald announced simply as the next man walked through the door, giving no additional details. The lack of his last name drew my attention. Whatwashis surname?

If it hadn’t been for the white hair and electric-blue eyes, I may not have recognized him. Long gone were the heavy snow boots, shabby brown furs and carelessly combed hair. He was dressed in a crisp suit and his hair was neatly parted. Every bit of dirt and dog hair had been scrubbed away so he was left looking like a true royal advisor. My heart beat faster just looking at him. Perhaps a starched appearance wasn’t the worst look in the world after all.

Jasmine gasped in shock. “He’s a mage,” she whispered. “I’ve never met one before.” Across the ballroom, I saw Vanessa give Vallia a pointed look then curl her lips into a flattering smile directed at Jack that unsettled me far more than the glares she always saved for me.

The ball began. Many of the men asked the attending girls to dance, and I spotted Jack at a distant table, making notes on official-looking forms and listening as other advisors came to whisper in his ear after dancing with each woman. One by one, Octavius would seek out the girls and lead them to be introduced to the royal family. Jasmine wasone of the first and she gave us a nervous wave as she was led off.

Twice, I was asked to dance by different advisors, and I accepted each time. While I was more comfortable ice skating than dancing, the two shared enough overlap that I was able to perform to an acceptable standard. The advisors made polite inquiries about my family, interests, and hobbies, then when the dance ended, bowed over my hand and went to whisper to Jack. I caught his eye on one of those occasions and resisted the urge to wink. Jack didn’t betray the slightest hint of recognition when we made eye contact and lowered his gaze back to his papers. I couldn’t help but feel slightly let down. Even though I knew he had to maintain his image, I would have at least liked for him to acknowledge that we’d met before.

Trista waltzed by, intentionally treading on the feet of her partner, who had plastered a polite smile on his face, but occasional winces broke through his stoic expression.

“Lady Noelle, you’re next,” Octavius rasped. “Follow me and wait to be introduced.”

I trailed obediently after the steward as he led me up to the stage where the royal family stood in a receiving line. The queen, first in line, peered at me even before my name was announced. “You’re Lord Cedric Frost’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Taken aback that the queen knew my name, I stammered, “Y-yes, Your Majesty. How…?”

“Oh, I never forget a face,” she said with a cheery laugh. “And I can tell you, it has come in quite handy when I have to meet so many people. You look very like your father. I knew himwell.”

“Thank you.”

“His Highness, Prince Stephen,” the herald announced, rather loudly considering his proximity.

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