Page 116 of The Shadows Between Us
Potted roses line the entrances to the ballroom. They form a mazelike path to the refreshment table, before opening up in the center of the room to allow plenty of space for the dancing. Every member of the orchestra wears a black rose—the men in their breast pockets, the ladies in their hair—in honor of the late queen.
I had the ballroom painted, so it looks like ivy climbs up the columns. Green rugs line the floors, perfectly imitating grass. Rose petals have been sprinkled over the ground, giving off a soft fragrance.
It took several manservants and long ladders, but we also managed to dangle bouquets of roses from the ceiling. An occasional petal will fall, raining the floor with even more. I ordered tapestries to go along the walls, making them appear as though the edges of a garden rest all around us.
The electric chandeliers shine brightly. I wanted everything well lit. Not only to give the illusion of noonday in the garden, but so that any treachery or deceit would be impossible to hide behind shadows.
No one is killing my king tonight.
Guests have already started to pour in, though the ball doesn’t officially start for another ten minutes. I can see everything from above, where I wait on the staircase, overlooking my arrangements. As it ismy ball, I get to make a grand entrance, so I bide my time waiting until the right moment.
Really, I’m just waiting for Kallias to show up. I wouldn’t want him to miss seeing me in my new dress.
I’ve outdone myself.
Overall, the dress is a light yellow. Every few inches, the fabric folds over itself as it moves upward, to give the shape of a rose’s overlapping petals. I’ve stained the tip of each fold a bright red orange to match the fine roses found in the queen’s garden. Normally I’m not overly fond of the color orange, but the queen’s roses (and my dress by design) are simply divine. I wear a hoopskirt beneath the layers of silk, but the bodice is fitted, the top sleeveless, and my matching yellow gloves are dotted orange at my fingertips.
I’ve pinned my hair to one side, so it falls down my left shoulder, leaving my neck bare on the right side. I’ve curled the strands so they fall in perfect ringlets, a black wonder over the light fabric.
When Kallias does finally arrive, he doesn’t have himself announced. Rather, he tries to enter quietly, going right for the throne on the dais. Having seen the fabric I was using to make my dress, he wears a matching yellow waistcoat—so light it could be mistaken for white. It looks remarkable against his bronze skin.
As soon as he is seated, I give the herald orders to announce me.
“Our hostess, Lady Alessandra Stathos, second daughter to the Earl of Masis.”
I hold up my dress in both hands and let a light smile grace my features as I descend the stairs.
All heads turn in my direction.
And I know it’s not just my stunning gown that causes their chattering. I’m the girl who caught the eye of the king. The girl who has the council following her strategies. The girl who saved the king from an assassination attack.
I’ve worked up quite a reputation indeed.
And tonight, Kallias will propose and shock everyone.
He watches me now, as I take each careful step. The dress is wide enough to allow my legs plenty of movement, but the floor-length hem and heeled boots make tripping an easy feat.
Yet I keep my eyes on him.
With that heated gaze on me, I can see just how much Kallias wants me. It is no longer a question of attraction between us. It is a matter of keeping himself safe from attack. We have a good arrangement. We’ll both have what we want after tonight. He’ll have a queen to help him manage and balance the council. He’ll have someone on his side whom he trusts. The only person he trusts.
And in return I get power. The power to rule a kingdom at Kallias’s side once he turns twenty-one. It’ll only be another seventeen months.
When I reach the bottom of the steps, Kallias doesn’t approach me. In fact, he turns away, engaging one of his nearby council members in conversation.
Disappointment and irritation mingle within me, but I keep my face in a pleasant smile.
I think to start welcoming my guests, but as I take a few steps in one direction, the partygoers… scatter.
What the devils?
Perhaps I’ve only imagined it? I head for the refreshment table, thinking to check on the food arrangements. Skirts sway from my path, and a group of gentlemen cut off their conversation midsentence to turn away from me and find somewhere else to stand.
What is the matter with everyone?
When I’m steps away from the table, I relax as someone approaches me. Until I realize it’s my father.
“I don’t recall sending you an invitation,” I say, distracting myself with a glass of champagne from the table.
