Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 105

Chapter 105: Blending in
Trace tried to maintain an air of calm as he mingled among the waiting guests. A few of the men seemed to size him up, and he stared back at them evenly, neither smiling nor frowning.

Eventually they looked away, and no one tried to strike up a conversation with him. That was just as well. It gave him the opportunity to listen to the crowd that had gathered in the ballroom.

“Wonder what she looks like–”

“Heard rumors she’s difficult–”

“How many younger siblings does she have? It’s quite the secret.”

Trace swallowed and turned away at that last one, hoping that Sapphira would indeed have a younger sibling at last. He wove his way through the crowd, carefully examining each person in passing to see who he could recognize.

So far, the answer was no one.

Although his own mask covered just the upper half of his face, many of the men and women wore full masks. That posed a great challenge, but Trace just had to get through this evening.

Right?

Finally, he spotted the mask he was looking for: the intricately made black and white mask of the royal tailor. Making his way over to the man, he gave a stiff half-bow as seemed customary between the guests at this masked ball.

Since no one knew whether the person they were greeting was of higher rank, and some of the higher ranks thought it amusing to pretend not to be themselves, a formal level of greeting was safest.

“Ah!” The tailor tilted his masked face. “You found me quickly, I see. Already curious as to who everyone is?”

“The suspense is greater than I imagined.” Trace gave the man a brief smile. “Would you mind imparting some of your knowledge to me?”

“Most of the Counts are clustered together near the front, there. You can see Icho, Branchwine, Maj, and Thistleton with women whom I assume, or hope, are their wives, there. Over to the side you can see…”

Trace took careful note of as many names as he could fit in his mind as the tailor pointed out various people. Oakdown was nowhere to be seen, nor was anyone matching the green and yellow drawing he’d received with the blackmail letter.

Either something had happened to change the plot, or he had a dramatic entrance planned.

The orchestra was playing soft music, warming up for the dancing at the ball. Trace hoped the dances his hometown put on for barn raisings and festivals was at least roughly analogous to ones that would be done here. His mother had taught him how to dance with adequacy for those occasions.

A commotion by the front of the room, near the grand staircase leading down from the balcony, drew everyone’s attention, and the room fell silent apart from some excited whispers. A brief fanfare announced the king’s arrival, and everyone stood a little straighter.

The proud monarch descended the stairs with his wife on his arm. Trace swallowed, hoping she was feeling all right. A servant behind the queen held the train of her dress to help keep her from tripping. Trace squinted and eyed Sapphira’s humble posture, memorizing the look of her clothing in case he should need to find her quickly later.

As the royal couple came to a stop on the landing of the stairway and looked across the crowd, The queen moved her hand to rest under her engorged belly, cradling it.

The crowd came alive with new murmurs.

“Another heir! How many will this make, do you think?”

“I don’t know why they never announce these things–”

“Will it be another daughter? Or a son this time?”

King Harold raised his head, and his voice boomed through the ballroom.

“Welcome, esteemed guests. You have been invited here today to be at last introduced to my eldest child. Without all the delay and pomp of one of my military speeches, I will make this brief. That will allow more time for dancing, though for obvious reasons, Her Highness the Queen and I will refrain from such merriment ourselves on this occasion.”

Some good-natured laughter bubbled through the crowd.

“It is my joy to present to you today, Princess Sapphira, only child of the dearly departed former queen, at this, her coming of age ball.”

The king gestured to the top of the stairs, where there appeared a stunning vision. A young woman with auburn hair in a glittering midnight-blue gown carefully descended the steps, One graceful hand resting on the banister, the other holding a folded fan that matched the fabric of her gown.

As she reached the landing, the king held out his hand to take hers with a fond smile. The beauty gave a deep curtsy as he continued speaking.

“As the princess’s father, it will be my delight to open the dancing with her before I allow anyone else the chance to pursue her for a partner,” King Harold smiled at the crowd, who chuckled in response.

If Trace had not known this vision was his wife, he might not have recognized her. She was captivating, and yet, somehow, he missed how she had looked on the farm, working side by side with him.

Perhaps part of that was due to the vast number of eyes now enthusiastically appreciating her beauty.

He inhaled deeply, and watched as the king led Anaisa in a dance that he recognized. Trace hoped the other songs would be as accommodating to his skill level. He’d never thought much about it before, and had never really had reason to.

Anaisa swept around the floor as gracefully as if she were truly the princess, and the words flying around now were all either flattering, or jealous.

Moving through the crowd, Trace tried to listen in to various conversations to catch any manner of plotting or planning. At least, that was what he told himself he was doing as he tried to keep Anaisa in view.

When the first song ended, it was nearly a race for who would take her hand next. A race that he did not know to enter. He kicked himself as a man in fashionable clothing bowed over Anaisa’s hand, kissing it as her cheeks tinged pink.

Trace didn’t like that at all.