The Ball (1)

She walked steadily back to her chambers while thoughts raged in her mind. Before she realized it, she was standing in front of her door. Her thoughts still whirling, she slowly turned the knob and walked inside, then promptly stopped in her tracks. 

A group of maids were bustling around following the orders of a man in their midst. His back was to her, so she could not make out who he was. No one had noticed her entrance yet, so she coughed lightly into her palm.

The entire room froze, and the maids rushed into a bow. The man turned towards her and she finally recognized him.

“Ah, William,” she said, “have you brought my dress for the ball?”

The tailor tilted his head slightly to the side. Ignoring her question he answered instead, “You have grown more beautiful.” 

He regarded her up and down.

“It is a good thing I anticipated this. If beauty does not match the gown, then in my opinion, there is no reason to have either.”

He then walked over to the changing area and brought out a beautiful, golden ball gown. It had off the shoulder straps, and brilliant white sequins clustered on the bodice. Her eyes followed their trail, as they scattered down the length of the skirt like stars in a molten gold sky.

She held in her gasp, keeping a calm façade, and ventured towards him. Reaching out she lightly grasped the edge of the garment between her fingers. It really was a magnificent, perfect, dress.

“You did well, William,” she said, her eyes still on the dress. “I will take this as forgiveness for not showing your respect”.

William dipped his head.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he said. “I will help with the preparation. You will look magnificent”. 

He clasped his hands in happy anticipation, and walked off issuing more orders to the maids.

Turning to the window she gazed up at the sky, breathing out a quiet sigh. She heard the door open behind her, and turned back to see the countess quietly slip into the room. Olivia gestured to the changing area with a smile and quelling her thoughts, the princess joined her to start the final preparations for the ball.

******

Meanwhile in another wing of the palace, the empress sits quietly drinking tea in her rooms. She is a composed, elegant, well-mannered woman, and a renowned beauty. Nobles and courtiers adore her. She is the rose of the social circle, and young noblewomen would seek out her attention hoping to receive a shred of recognition.

A knock sounds at her door, and she looks up.

“You may come in,” she calls out.

The door opens and a middle-aged man walks in.

“Good day sister,” he greets her. “How have you been?”

She smiles brightly.

“As you can see I am well,” she responds.

He walks across the room, pulls a chair out at her tea table, and sits down. She regards him patiently as he drums his fingers on the table.

Finally he levels his gaze at her.

“The princess will be crowned tonight,” he says. “What are your plans?”

A gleam lights up her eyes. 

“She is young and naïve,” she answers, “but I will place people around her just in case.”

She stands her elbows on the table and resting her chin on braided hands, she regards her brother with a smirk.

She was also a manipulative, power-hungry woman, whose end-goal was the throne.

“Aren’t most of her maids under you already?” he asks.

“They are, but they cannot seem to get close enough. She will need a lady in waiting.”

The empress’s brother nods and strokes his chin.

“We will also need to wed her with the count’s son to tie her down.”

“Don’t worry. I will set them up and she will have no choice but to accept.” 

The empress chuckles and raises her cup to her perfectly painted lips.

“Yes, she is trapped in our hands,” he says softly. 

A maid enters with an extra cup of tea and a small plate of treats. They both fall silent as she pours him a cup and walks quickly back out of the room. Her brother reaches out and takes a light sip. 

A hush settles over them for a couple of moments as they filter through their thoughts. 

“So it’s just a matter of time before we take over the throne,” he says finally.

“Don’t celebrate early my dear count,” the empress sighs. “My husband is still very much alive and troublesome”. 

Her brow furrows in slight annoyance, before she quickly smooths it out. Wrinkles are not something she welcomes.  

Her brother snarls.

“That old bastard just won’t die, will he!” 

The empress traces her teacup with a manicured finger cocking her head to one side. 

“It’s a good thing he only had a daughter,” she says, calm and collected. “It would have been more problematic if he had produced a son.” 

“The problem is the risk in directly eliminating him,” he says curling his trembling hand into a fist. “That dog of his would be on our scent and after us. He would have us killed without a second thought!” 

“The young duke is quite formidable, yes,” she agrees. “Which is why it’s a good thing he’s on a short leash.” 

The empress raises the cup back to her lips, draining it in one final gulp. She places it perfectly back down into the middle of its saucer.

“If things go according to plan, we should never have to cross paths with him.”

 The count nods and drains his own cup before suddenly standing up.

‘I have things I must attend to. I’ll leave you now. We will talk more later.”

The empress dismisses him with a nod. 

“Take care.”

As the count leaves, a maid enters and bows.

“Your Majesty, the emperor has summoned you.”

The empress smiles and slowly gets up to her feet. 

“This should be interesting.”

“His Imperial Majesty is waiting for you in the gardens.”

Leaving the maid behind to clean up the tea table, the empress proceeds to the palace gardens. She follows the stone path until she spies the emperor sitting amongst his flowers, admiring the beauty of his exquisite collection.

Upon seeing her, his gaze turns cold.

“How are you, Your Majesty?” she greets him, nodding her head slightly.

He dismisses her greeting with a curt wave of his hand.

“Let’s cut to the chase. Have a seat,” he says pointing to a chair across from him.

The empress sits down primly, and smooths her skirts.

“You are as cold as ever,” she says, an icy smile framing her face.

The emperor ignores her.

“Later today I will crown the princess,” he says. “I demand you allow the ceremony to proceed without any misconduct, as well as the rest of the days moving forward.” He stares at her.  “I will not tolerate any more transgressions on your part.”

“Is that a threat, Your Majesty..?” she asks with a simpering smile.

The emperor frowns as he struggles to keep his composure. He already begins to feel the now familiar anger beginning to bubble inside him.

“Let this be a warning. I will not stand for anymore of your “lapses in judgement.”

He turns away in disgust.

“You are dismissed. You may return to your room”.

Her eyes are a storm of concealed resentment as she she clucks softly,

“Well this is certainly disappointing. I was hoping to talk more with my dear husband.”

She stands up to leave but not before she looks back with a parting shot.

“Let us certainly hope our dearest princess is stronger than that mother of hers”

The emperor whirls back towards her angrily, his eyes flashing dangerously. The rage he was fighting is suddenly very imminent on his face. She feels a sudden chill down her spine. Too much. She pushed too much.

“Leave now Catherine,” he growls, his battle with his fury quite obviously being lost.

She bows her head and turns quickly away. She was never really good at holding her tongue.

She walks back along the stone path until reaching the shade of the palace. Turning a corridor, deep in thought, she nearly collides with a pair of stark blue eyes.

Barely acknowledging her or paying her title any respect, the man sidesteps her fluidly and continues on. She stares at his back and gasps, bringing her hand to her mouth, as she suddenly recognizes him. The black haired man turns the corner and disappears from view as one panicked thought fills her mind.

What is Duke Rodrick doing at the palace!