A Birthday Surprise
When they returned to the castle, Fiza helped her dress and took more care than usual to do her hair and face paint. Elizabeth let her curl and style her hair, content to sit in silence, her thoughts occupied. When she looked up, she hardly recognized the woman in front of her. Her hair had been swept up and out of her face, and several honey blonde waves cascaded down artfully. Rouge adorned her cheeks and lips, and face paint made her eyes appear large and doe-like, but it wasn’t overly done.
On the bed was the off-the-shoulder, silvery blue ball gown she had worn when she had first met Caspian. The bodice was beaded and glinted in the light, with pale blue tulle skirts embroidered with hundreds of tiny crystals that were invisible until the light hit them.
A dress for balls and shaking hands with the most important nobles in the realm.
A different life.
Fiza helped her lace up the back, and Elizabeth stood in front of the mirror.
She looked like the woman she had left behind in Rhodea.
Elizabeth glanced at Fiza suspiciously, wondering why she had set aside this particular gown for tonight. Fiza offered her nothing but the barest of smiles and didn’t offer matching jewellery, leaving her throat and wrists bare.
A knock sounded at the door, causing her to jolt in surprise.
Caspian was there in a midnight-blue suit jacket, holding a bouquet of inky black poppies. His pocket square was a pale blue that coordinated with the lightest colour of her dress.
They were a matched pair tonight. Her pulse quickened with unease. Didn’t he usually feed from her wrists or her throat? What was going on?
Wordlessly, Caspian held out his arm.
She raised an eyebrow at him in question, but he gave no explanation for the evening’s mystery and proffered his arm once more.
He escorted her to the entrance of the castle, where she was certain they were about to leave and attend a formal function somewhere else. But then he turned and led her further into the bowels of the castle.
She didn’t recognize where they were at first, but then she saw the large, gold-painted doors and knew exactly where they were.
These were the doors to the ballroom, the one she had been told not to enter under any circumstances.
Caspian wordlessly held the door open for her, waiting for her to go first. She cringed as she passed through the threshold, wondering what awaited her on the other side.
She blinked in surprise.
The ballroom had been cleaned—the floors and bannisters gleamed, and elaborate gold and crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead. The golden bannisters on the landing gave way to a curving staircase that led them to the floor below. An entire wall was composed of high-arched windows with dark curtains swept to the side, revealing the setting sun over the mountains.
“Wait here,” Caspian murmured. He descended to the black marble floor below.
He looked up at her expectantly, waiting. His eyes brightened as he took in the view of her standing at the top of the staircase with her hand resting gently on the banister.
Suddenly nervous, she felt naked and vulnerable, despite the fact that she had done this many times before. Holding her head high, she gave the room a closed-lipped smile and gracefully lifted her skirts with one hand. She descended the stairs with her eyes on the man waiting for her below.
Her heeled slippers echoed off the polished dark marble as she strode across the floor towards him.
Caspian walked slowly, as if approaching her in a dream. “Lady Elizabeth Ashcroft,” he said, his voice deeper than usual. He bowed low, greeting her surprisingly formally, and held out his hand.
“Hello, Caspian,” she said, narrowing her gaze in suspicion.
He lifted her fingers to his lips, all the while maintaining eye contact.
He smirked, a man confident of the effect he was summoning. The bastard was right, though; his smirk and undivided attention made her heart flutter.
Caspian gestured to the center of the floor, where two chairs and a small table waited for them. As he pulled out her chair, she smoothed her skirts under her and sat down. Elizabeth wrinkled her brow in confusion at the rare display of manners.
He poured wine for them both from two separate bottles. Hers was wine. She was fairly sure his was not.
A servant approached, holding a large velvet box.
