Page 69 of Disenchanted
Clutching Horatio’s hand, I studied the man I had once known as Harper, thinking perhaps I was mistaken, that my long-lost bard only bore an uncanny resemblance to the prince.Harper’s hair had been a shade lighter, his countenance far livelier than this stone-faced man.
But there was no denying it, no forgetting the face of the young man who had haunted my dreams for the past seven years. Harper was Prince Ryland, even though he had behaved as though he had entirely forgotten me. Perhaps he had. It still seemed incredible to me that during all these years, Harper could have been dwelling mere miles from me and our paths had never crossed. But I recalled Amy saying that Ryland was known as the questing prince, often absent from the kingdom, hunting dragons.
I marveled that he could have carried out such a deception that long ago summer, passing himself off as a traveling minstrel. Granted I had been a starry-eyed little fool, but surely someone in Midtown must have recognized him… except that other than the king and Prince Florian, the rest of the royal family was never seen outside of the Heights.
Looking back on our days together, I only remembered one time that Harper had ever played his lute in the village square and that had been when we had first met. After that, he sang his songs for me alone. It had ever been he and I, lost in a magical world of our own making. Well, one of us had been lost, the other as calculating as any predator, a prince amusing himself with an idle dalliance.
I should have been furious with him, but all I felt was that familiar hollow ache, even deeper and more acute as I realized my lost love had never existed. All had been false, all illusion.
I became aware of Prince Florian moving among the guests, dismissing all the bowing, and curtsying with a wave of his hand. “No more of all this stiff protocol. Majordomo, command the royal musicians to strike up a lively tune.” He smiled, holding his arms wide as he surveyed the crowd. “Now which of you lovely ladies shall I have the honor of leading into the first dance?”
Was the man completely mad? I expected at any moment to see the prince crushed beneath a herd of rampaging petticoats and wondered if the king would be compelled to enact a new law against stampeding royalty.
Most of the maidens present blushed and fluttered their fans to catch the prince’s eye. Only a few were brazen enough to push forward, among them my own sister. Amy edged her way to the front of the pack, tripping up one competitor, subtly elbowing another in the stomach.
As she boldly presented herself to the prince, holding out her hand, I worried that Mal’s potion had given my sister too much confidence. I held my breath, wondering how Prince Florian would react and feared that Amy might be publicly humiliated if he snubbed her. I was preparing to rush to her side when the prince grinned and with a gallant bow, accepted Amy’s hand.
The crowd fell back as the prince led my little sister onto the dance floor. No matter how I felt about the heir to the throne, I could not help experiencing a rush of pride. I was beaming as I turned to Crushington.
When Horatio smiled back at me, the discovery of Harper’s duplicity seemed of little importance. He offered me his arm. “Shall we, my lady?”
“Indeed, we shall,” I said. I rested my hand through his arm, and we moved to take our place among the other couples forming sets. We had scarcely taken two steps when Prince Ryland blocked our path.
The prince accorded me a stiff bow. “Miss, will you grant me the honor of this dance?”
“Why, I— I—” I stammered. I thought I had recovered from the shock of seeing Harper but once again, I felt as though I had been punched, driving the breath from my body.
After our first encounter, I had supposed he would ignore me for the rest of the evening. His request to dance with mecompletely took me aback. I did not know how to respond. I expected Horatio to inform the prince that my hand had been claimed.
But the commander drew away from me. When I looked up at him, he regarded me gravely and I realized Horatio was leaving the choice to me. As I glanced helplessly between the two men, Ryland decided the issue by taking my hand and leading me away.
I should have pulled away from him and returned to Horatio, but I allowed the prince to guide me onto the dance floor.
fourteen
My stepmother had promised me that attending the ball would be like a dream come true. It felt more like a nightmare in which a spell had been cast over my handsome, charming Harper transforming him into this stiff, unsmiling prince. As we moved through the opening steps of the dance, I stole glances up at him, trying to find some trace of the warm gentle lover I had once known.
There was none because I had not known the real Harper at all. He did not even exist. There was only Prince Ryland, a man who looked wearied of the world and everything in it, including me. The royal gallop was supposed to be a lively dance in which young men often lifted their partners and spun them about exuberantly.
Ryland behaved as a bored older courtier would do, resting one hand lightly upon my waist to guide me in a circle. It was as though he could not bear to touch me, even with those thick ornate gloves he wore. He went through the motions with me in complete silence, avoiding my gaze until I wondered why he had bothered asking me to dance at all.
I was so miserable I could hardly bear it, but somewhere in the ashes he had made of my heart, I could feel the embers ofanger begin to burn. As we circled again, I said loudly, “What? What was that you said, Your Highness? I’m afraid I could not hear you above the music.”
“I have not said anything,” he replied, staring straight ahead.
“So I have noticed.”
He winced at my tart rebuke. Although it appeared to cost him great effort, he asked, “Are you enjoying the ball?”
“No, I am sorry to say I am not. I have just realized I am not appropriately dressed.”
My remark startled him into flicking an unwilling glance at me. “But you look quite— quite— beautiful,” he concluded weakly.
“Thank you, Your Highness, but I wish someone had warned me this was to be a masquerade.”
“But it is not.”
“Truly?” I feigned astonishment as we clasped hands, stepped together and then back again. “But your costume is so perfect. A bard disguising himself as a prince. Or am I merely confused, thinking of something that happened long ago, a prince masquerading as a bard.”
