Page 64 of Disenchanted
I tugged at Imelda’s sleeve to gain her attention. “Please, Em. Clearly, we have no choice, and it is a very pleasant evening for a stroll.”
Imelda looked far from pleased, but she made no further demur, allowing Louie to help her alight. My stepsisters came next, Amy nearly shoving her sister aside in her eagerness.
I studied Amy, looking anxiously for any sign that Mal’s potion might have had some strange effect on her. She seemed a little flushed and her eyes glittered with excitement, but I supposed that was to be expected.
As soon as my sisters had disembarked, I followed, clinging to Louie’s hand until I arrived safely on the pavement. After what Mal had told me about him, I was embarrassed to admit I had difficulty keeping my eyes from straying to his crotch.
“We will be stabling the coach in the mews behind the palace,” Louie said. “If for any reason you should wish to depart early, you only need to send a page to fetch me.” He added in a lower tone meant for my ears alone, “Good luck, miss.”
I gave him a startled look and he smiled reassuringly. It was obvious that Mal had trusted Louie with the secret of my mission tonight. I hoped Mal had been right to do so, but I was given little time to worry about that.
Louis climbed back up onto his perch and our carriage lumbered off to make room for the next guests to alight. Gathering up the hem of my gown, I followed Imelda and my sisters. Moonlight glinted off the gleaming white walls that surrounded the royal park, the massive golden gates flung open in welcoming fashion.
Imelda had exaggerated the distance to the palace. It appeared to be a quarter of a mile at most. Even from here, I could see the sweeping stairs that led up to a wide veranda. The palace beyond glowed with light, a romantic confection of towers and balustrades etched against the starry sky.
The palace grounds sprawled before us, an endless maze of topiary bushes, lush gardens and burbling fountains. Lit by the moon and dozens of flaming torches, it was all as magical as my stepmother had promised. Or it would have been if not for the gauntlet of sentries lined up on both sides of the drive leading to the palace steps.
They were all garbed in crisp red uniforms with brass buttons. Tall black shakos framed faces with stony countenances as they stood to attention, staring rigidly ahead. A few of them closest to the gates held chains fastened to the collars of aura beasts.
I had heard about these creatures from Mal but had never had the misfortune to see one until now. Larger than Amy’s ponies, these furless cats were so pale, the veins throbbingbeneath their skin were visible. With small, flattened back ears and narrowed eyes, the beasts stood as motionless as their handlers, but I shuddered, easily able to imagine how one of these cats could shred a person to ribbons at the slightest command.
My stepmother halted just outside the gate, murmuring, “Oh dear. This is very different from what I remember.”
I reflected that it likely had been very different when Imelda had attended royal balls in her youth. That would have been before our king’s tyrannical and greedy behavior had made him so many enemies that he had learned to be suspicious and fearful of his own subjects. Mal had warned me that security at the palace had tightened, but I had not expected anything like this. How had he ever imagined that I would be able to steal that orb and escape undetected?
I knew the answer to that. Mal relied far too much on the fact that I had an unregistered aura and that those absurd glass shoes of his would render me invisible. Confronted by the army of sentries and those eerie cats, I seriously doubted my ability to keep my promise to Mal.
I was not the only one daunted by the reception awaiting us beyond those gates. Imelda paled and my stepsisters clung to each other, even Amy’s eagerness dissipating. The other arriving guests were equally dismayed, their excited chatter fading to nervous murmurs. Everyone hung back, milling outside the gates despite a sentry’s gruff command for us to keep moving.
I found myself leading the way. Plucking up my skirts and my courage, I marched down the drive. I had not taken many steps when a man with shoulder-length, silver-streaked black hair loomed before me. His gaunt frame was engulfed in a flowing dark robe with wide sleeves, the satin fabric glittering with mysterious symbols. In his right hand he clutched a strange object that was a cross between a wand and a scepter.
I caught the whisper of someone in the crowd behind me. “The Great Mercato.”
So, this was the king’s chief wizard, the infamous mage who had designed the Aura Chamber to capture all our auras. He did indeed appear formidable with his pointed beard and cold narrow eyes, but I was not intimidated. I found his garb as outlandish as the way he dramatically pointed his scepter in the direction of the uneasy guests. It was as though he was trying too hard to convince everyone how powerful and important he was. I even had to bite back a smile when I recalled what Mal had told me of his true name.
I suppressed the urge to greet him with a cheerful, “Good evening, Sidney.” I had promised Imelda to mind my tongue tonight and whatever Sidney Greenleaf chose to call himself, it was unwise to trifle with such a man.
A tall young sentry stood by his side, trying hard to look just as stone-faced, but his countenance was far too sweet and boyish for him to maintain such a stern demeanor.
“Tickets, please, miss,” he said in clipped accents.
Imelda had insisted upon taking charge of the tickets herself. I glanced around for her, hoping she had not forgotten to bring them. My stepmother crept forward; trembling as she handed the costly vouchers to the young guard.
While he inspected them, Mercato’s ice-chip eyes remained fixed on me. I stared back, summoning up my sweetest smile. Suddenly the stone on the end of his scepter flashed bright blue. Mercato reared back. He leveled an accusing finger and thundered, “Witch!”
My heart thudded as I started to stammer, “No, I assure you I—” I broke off when I realized he was not pointing at me, but at someone beyond my shoulder. I turned around to discover the crowd of guests behind me shrinking away from the strange woman who was the focus of Mercato’s angry gesture.
Delphine.
I blinked in astonished recognition. The witch’s slender neck hardly seemed capable of supporting the elaborate mountain of orange-red hair piled on top of her head. Whatever exquisite taste Delphine had employed when fashioning my gown had not carried over to her own attire. A scarlet gown that consisted of tiers and tiers of ruffles cut low across her bosom, leaving her shoulders completely bare.
Mercato shoved me out of the way as he cried out again, “Witch! Guards, seize that woman.”
Sentries sprang to life, the aura beasts setting up a fearsome growl. The guests closest to Delphine cried out in fear, scrambling to get out of the way of the advancing soldiers. The only one unperturbed was the witch herself.
“Oh frap,” Delphine muttered and flung something at the ground. Suddenly we were enveloped in a blinding white cloud thicker than any fog I had ever experienced in Misty Bottoms.
Guests screamed, the cats snarled and Mercato cursed. Above this chaos of sound, I heard my sisters’ frightened cries and I tried to grope my way toward them. But I felt my wrist seized in an iron grip. Suddenly I was standing nose to nose with Delphine.
