Their presence turned my small alcove into a prison—albeit one with a view of the room I was itching to make my way across. I could see, perfectly clearly through the crack in the curtains, when Elin appeared in the double doors of the ballroom.
She stood alone, silhouetted by the massive doors, her pale shoulders warmed by the candlelight. She had somehow altered the wedding dress. She was so much shorter than I. Inches were missing from the bottom, though the train lay intact, dragging behind her. The sleeves were gone, her arms bare to the tops of the long gloves. Her appearance was timed to the end of the dance, and as the guests streamed off the dance floor, the herald’s announcement of her entrance rang across the room.
Hundreds of faces turned to look at her. The beautiful latecomer. The strange guest.
She peered back at the room, at all the people, up at the chandeliers, over at the banquettes, and then, wide-eyed, to the sky. Unblinking eyes taking in hundreds of candles. Thousands of flowers. And countless eyes looking back at her.
“Don’t do it,” I whispered.
“Who isthat?” Sigrid wondered aloud, in front of the curtain.
“Don’t you dare,” I breathed.
But Elin did. She fell, a dead faint, straight to the ground.
The hubbub and conversation that rippled through the room was enough to dislodge Otto and Sigrid. They moved forward with the swell of the crowd, and I was able to step out from my hiding place, joining the surge of people. I weaved through the onlookers, trying to see what was happening ahead, and looking for Rosie and Mathilde.
The crowd parted. Prince Simeon was striding across the room, with purpose. Something inside of my chest hitched, and then tightened when I saw him reach his destination and look, with interest, down at the collapsed woman.
Lavinia appeared at my side. “My wonder,” she observed. “That is your Elin.”
“It is.” I craned my head to see.
“She dusted off nicely.”
“She did.” I wanted, suddenly, to sit down.
“She is lying on the floor.”
“She is.”
“Will she be all right?”
“She will.”
“That blue makes her eyes look like pure sapphires! And now the prince is helping her.”
I felt unable to have a proper conversation. I didn’t want to look anymore. I wanted to rip the dress off Elin’s body, and anger left unquelled for too many moments begins to feel like poison in your system.
Simeon was helping Elin stand, a hand on her waist. The room watched as he offered her a sip of punch. She blushed and accepted. The music started once more. The crowd pretended to disperse. The prince took Elin’s hand and led her to the center of the ballroom.
Three dances later—each of which Simeon had spent with Elin pressed to his side—Rosie and Mathilde found me in the side room.
“Where did she get the dress?” Mathilde wondered, bewildered. Rosie sank into the chair next to me.
I shook my head. “She must have gone up to the attic and into my trunk.”
Rosie’s voice broke. “How did she even get here?”
“I haven’t a clue.” I was perplexed myself. Where had Moussa gotten the white horses? What had transformed the carriage?
“It is just a dance—right, Mama?” Rosie asked.
“Just a few dances.” I shook off my stupor and sat up. “And you.” I turned to clutch her hand. “Tell me aboutyourdance. What did Prince Simeon say?”
“We hardly talked! We were dancing.” She started to say more, but her voice had taken on the crimped sound of someone trying not to cry. She stopped herself.
“Rosie,” Mathilde said, softly. “There are plenty of other eligible men in the room. If you are in here, they won’t be able to see you.”
