Page 68 of Disenchanted
His voice sent a strange shiver down my spine. My gaze traveled slowly up the prince’s sash, the gilt buttons of his uniform until I reached his face.
The entire world stopped as I stared into the eyes of Harper, my long-lost bard.
thirteen
I could not speak. I could not move. I was barely breathing as I stared at the faithless lover I had never expected to see again. I could feel the blood draining from my face. Harper appeared equally stricken, his countenance just as pale. I do not know how long Harper and I might have stood there, blocking the stairs. He was the first to recover, bowing stiffly and walking away. I still did not seem able to move, but Crushington was there, gently leading me out of the way.
“Ella, what is wrong? Are you all right?” Horatio bent down to murmur in my ear.
“No,” I whispered. “You are going to have to arrest me.”
“What!” He reared back, startled. “Why?”
“I think I may be about to faint.”
Indeed, I did feel my knees start to wobble, but the commander slipped his arm about my waist, holding me upright. I did not know how Horatio managed it, but he got me through the crowd gathered by the stairs and found a chair. He eased me onto it, snapping out an order to a footman to fetch a glass of wine.
I sat there, feeling dazed. It was as though Delphine’s strange mist had seeped into my head, fogging my brain, plunging meinto a never- land where women could turn into cats and bards into princes.
Harper and Prince Ryland were one and the same. How was that even possible? Surely this would turn out to be some bizarre dream and I would awaken soon. The only thing that seemed solid and real was Horatio. He bent down, pressing a glass to my lips.
“Here,” he ordered. “Drink this.”
I obeyed, taking a few sips. I pushed the glass away, pulling a face at the potent, cheap wine. Little of the ball ticket money our king had raked in had been wasted on refreshments. Somehow that cynical thought helped me recover. Feeling more like myself, I was able to breathe again.
Horatio hunkered down in front of me, his grey eyes clouded with worry.
“Are you feeling any better?” he asked.
I managed to nod. “Yes, thank you. I just had a momentary attack of— of—”
Harper.
“The vapors,” I said and winced. I had no idea what the vapors were. It was merely a complaint that I had heard used by other women.
Horatio arched one brow, eyeing me dubiously. I wondered how much of my strange reaction to Prince Ryland he had noticed. Very little escaped the commander’s keen grey eyes, but he did not seek to question me for which I was grateful.
I studied Horatio’s face, the clean strong line of his jaw. The absence of his beard made him look younger and somehow more vulnerable. I touched his smooth cheek.
“You shaved,” I said.
“Er— yes,” he replied, looking self-conscious.
“I like it.”
His mouth tipped in his half-smile. When I started to rise, he protested, “Are you sure you are feeling well enough? You still look pale. Is there nothing else I can do?”
I shook my head. “I am fine. Just give me your hand.”
Horatio straightened, his fingers closing over mine. I clung to him, his hand the only thing that felt strong and steady in a world that had been tilted off balance by the appearance of Harper.
As we rejoined the crowd around the stairs, I thought Em would be scandalized if she saw me holding hands with the commander. I was rather surprised that she had not come in search of me before now. Amidst all these voluminous gowns, feathered headdresses and broad shoulders, I could not even see where I had left my family.
Another fanfare sounded, a longer and more impressive one, and the majordomo announced, “His Royal Highness, heir to the kingdom of Arcady, the most noble Prince Florian.”
The crowd erupted into applause, many of the young ladies forgetting their dignity enough to squeal with delight as Florian strode down the stairs, his blond mane of hair tied back with a golden ribbon. He looked handsome and impressive in a uniform like his brothers except for the epaulettes adorning his shoulders.
I spared him no more than a cursory glance. I craned my neck to see what had become of Prince Ryland. He stood near the throne, lined up with his other brothers who appeared rather sullen now that Florian had arrived to claim all the attention. Even Prince Kendrick, the endlessly cheerful one, looked dour. Only Ryland seemed unaffected. He stood to attention, staring rigidly at nothing.
