“Why don’t you find a nice gentleman to dance with? They’ll all be head over heels for you, I’m sure,” Lady Vanessa said with a smile. “I have a few acquaintances to catch up with. We’ll be at the benches if you need me.”
I nodded. With that, she slipped off, the silvery train of her gown disappearing into the rabble.
The ballroom was at full occupancy now, crowd and conversation concentrated at the archway. I made a beeline to a corner between the staircase and the refreshments table, well hidden from view.
A bench waited for me there. I took my seat and leaned against the wall. On the balcony above, the orchestra was tuning their instruments. I always attended public events without Misty, but this time, there was no one to occupy me. I felt her absence sorely.
A rustling sounded within the wall. I tilted my head closer.
I’m starving, Ma,a rodent squeaked.
Have a little patience. The humans will leave eventually.
But I want to eatnow.
You just had some parchment.
I’m tired of parchment! I want real food.
We’re mice, child. Everything is real food.
A disgruntled squeak came from the young mouse.
I managed a smile. Mice were far more friendly than the average kitchen maid would think. I spent hours of my childhood listening to them in the corridors of Mother’s estate. They were my only companions before I found Misty.
A myriad of cakes and sandwiches were stacked on the refreshments table. None of the guests had approached yet, thankfully. I picked out a honey-glazed pastry and ran my hand down a hairline crack in the damask wallpaper.
There was a hole the size of a child’s fist at the bottom. The staff had cleverly placed the table over the entrance, though part of it was still accessible.
I broke the pastry into pieces and swept it into the mouse hole. A squeak of delight came from the wall, followed by the pitter-patter of feet. A flash of snowy white paws appeared and disappeared.
“What are you doing?”
I jerked up, narrowly missing the edge of the table.
“Are there mice in there? I love mice.” A girl in a shimmering violet gown hovered over my shoulder. The fabric was eye-catching, shifting to pale green at certain angles. Her hair was braided in neat rows against her scalp, piling into an elaborate chignon on top of her head. It tipped dangerously as she craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the mouse hole.
“There are.” I hardly knew how to react. I had never done anything so undignified as shove dessert into a wall at a royal ball. And never had I been approached by strangers.
The girl popped back up. She had wide silver eyes and a crescent moon smile. Light from the chandeliers danced over the freckles on her cheeks, shining gold.
A witch.
I didn’t let my surprise show. It seemed that much had changed during the six months I spent in my room.
“Were you going to dance?” she asked, nodding at the glass orb I had abandoned on the bench.
I reached for it, running a finger over the textured surface before blowing out the flame. A wisp of smoke rose from the wick and dissolved.
“No.”
“Oh, shame,” she said with a sigh. “I want to dance. But you’re the only person who would talk to me tonight.”
I blinked slowly. “One does not simply approach someone in a royal ballroom unless they are previously acquainted.”
She huffed. “Then how is anyone supposed to meet new people?”
“Find a mutual acquaintance and have them introduce you. Those are the rules of society.”
