Page 5

Chapter 5

Olivia

O livia felt as if she’d strayed into a dream over the next few days. Marigold’s frenetic energy was poured into planning Olivia’s outfit for the ball, and she was constantly popping up to discuss this or that detail.

Olivia had assumed her friend would select one of her old gowns and give it to Olivia in advance so Olivia could adjust it to her much smaller stature and frame. But it quickly became apparent that Marigold was having a dress made specially.

Whenever Olivia tried to protest, Marigold brushed her words aside.

“I’ve always wanted to design a dress for a petite, golden beauty like you,” Marigold assured her. “My own height and wild curls can be useful for certain dramatic styles, but there are other styles that are off the cards completely. Not unless I want to look ridiculous.”

Olivia frowned. “But surely your mother doesn’t want to pay your seamstress to make a dress for me .”

Marigold cackled, and Olivia realized with a sinking heart that Marigold hadn’t told her mother the dress was for Olivia.

“Before you start protesting again,” Marigold said quickly at the look on her friend’s face, “remember my overflowing closet. I don’t need another dress, and I wouldn’t have agreed to a new one for the ball if I didn’t want it for you.” She smiled reminiscently. “It’s actually been surprising fun watching the seamstress’s face as I demand feature after feature that would look terrible on me.”

“Is your mother just letting you have whatever you want?” Olivia asked dubiously.

Marigold snorted. “She thinks it’s my attempt at defiance, and she’s placating me by letting me have my way. She seems convinced it will somehow all come together to look presentable. At least that’s what she keeps telling the dismayed seamstress. I suppose she’s relying on the Legacy.” Marigold wrinkled her nose, but Olivia nodded.

Having worked on her cousins’ dresses, she was inclined to think Lady Emerson might even be right. The Legacy seemed to surround anything related to the ball with extra potency. It made sense since the Legacy was the whole reason for the ball in the first place.

Holding the event was a way of both respecting the Legacy’s role in the kingdom and also seizing control of it. As long as everyone was wearing glass slippers, the Legacy’s power couldn’t focus on any one girl too strongly. The royal family might revere the Legacy, but they didn’t want to be controlled by it.

In the end, Marigold smuggled the dress to Olivia the day before the ball. Olivia wasn’t concerned about completing it on time—the Legacy would help with that. But she felt a final pang of uncertainty as she accepted the stunning creation of pink and gold silk from her friend.

“Will it really be all right for me to wear this?” she asked Marigold. “I know your mother won’t be at the ball, but if she finds out…”

“Don’t worry,” Marigold said hurriedly. “I intend to confess everything to them afterward. I’ll take all the blame. I won’t even tell them your name!” She grinned at her friend. “They won’t have any trouble believing this was all my doing.”

Olivia smiled reluctantly back. After eighteen years, Marigold’s parents must have become used to their daughter’s outrageous stunts.

“I’ll pick you up from your aunt and uncle’s door,” Marigold promised, clearly seeing no impediment to carrying out her plan.

“I’ll have to leave after my cousins,” Olivia reminded her. “Since I’m not planning to mention my attendance to my aunt, I’d rather not create a scene.”

“Absolutely,” Marigold agreed with a gleam in her eyes. “You know I always believe in seeking forgiveness rather than asking permission.”

Olivia grimaced. “With any luck, my aunt won’t spot me at the ball at all, and I can avoid any unpleasantness completely.”

“I’m not sure there’s much chance of that,” Marigold murmured.

“What?” Olivia asked, eyeing her askance.

Marigold raised a challenging eyebrow. “Have you seen this dress? You’re going to look like a dream. No one will be able to keep their eyes off you.”

Olivia laughed. “You’re forgetting I’ll be at your side. You’ll be the one stealing all the eyes.”

She was far from insecure about her appearance, and she was already half in love with the dress her friend had ordered for her, but Marigold had a vibrancy that made other people fade by comparison. If Olivia had been seeking to draw attention, she wouldn’t have attended the ball in her friend’s company.

“Are you sure you don’t mind being late?” she checked a final time. “And your mother isn’t going to mind either? We’ll miss the receiving line, so we won’t have the chance to meet the royal family.”

“Stop worrying.” Marigold pushed her gently away, laughing. “Don’t you know me at all? I have no desire to wait in a receiving line. Everything is going to work out fine.”

Olivia finally let herself stop worrying and embrace the beautiful reality. The following evening, she would be entering the famed ballroom of the royal palace of Sovar.

In the privacy of her bedchamber, she examined every inch of the stunning dress, as she considered the best way to take it in. Her fingers moved over the material, folding and tucking as ideas came to her. But clearly the seamstress used by Lady Emerson was more skilled than the one employed by Aunt Helen because there was less room for improvement than there had been on her cousins’ dresses.

When a knock sounded on her door, she hurried over to check who it was, only opening the door a crack. But as soon as she saw one dark-haired head and one light-haired one, she opened the door all the way, ushering an excited Nell and Hattie quickly inside.

“Oh!” Hattie cried, clasping her hands to her chest as she saw the dress laid out on Olivia’s bed. “It’s beautiful!”

“And more importantly, it’s perfect for you,” Nell added. “Now hurry up and try it on.”

Olivia smiled affectionately at her cousins as they helped her slip the gown over her head. She had taken them into her confidence as soon as she’d realized she would need help with adjusting the dress. She couldn’t do it entirely on her own when she needed to be both model and seamstress.

Once the material was settled in place—draping comically on the floor as if Olivia was a child playing dress up in her mother’s gown—she began issuing instructions. Her cousins worked diligently to follow them, pinning the dress everywhere Olivia directed.

When they’d finally finished, they helped her ease the dress off again, only pricking her twice in the process. Once Olivia was back in one of her own dresses, she gave both girls a warning look.

“Please do be careful and don’t blurt anything out to your mother,” she pleaded.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t forbid you from going,” Hattie assured her quickly, clearly distressed at any suggestion that Olivia was being mistreated.

“She can’t forbid her even if she wanted to,” Nell declared. “The ball is open to everyone, and she’s neither Olivia’s mother nor her slave master. But that doesn’t mean Mother would like it.”

“No, you’re right,” Hattie said with a sigh. “We’ll all—including Mother—be much more comfortable if she doesn’t know anything about it.”

Nell slipped her arms around Olivia and gave her a hug. “I wish we could get ready together.” Before Olivia could respond, she hurried on. “I know we can’t, but at least I’ll be able to see you at the ball. You’ll look magnificent.”

Olivia returned her cousin’s hug affectionately. She had been fortunate that Nell and Hattie had turned out to be the sweetest possible relations.

When she waved them off from the front steps of their family’s mansion the next evening, she was proud to see how well they both looked. Their excitement gave their faces animation as well as sweetness, and she hoped they would have just as wonderful a time as they dreamed. But she didn’t linger to watch the carriage rumble down the street. As soon as it was properly moving, she flew back inside and up to her room to start her own preparations.

She managed to put up her own hair, but as she shimmied into the dress, Olivia realized she was going to need help fastening the gown. It wasn’t the sort of simple design that could be done alone. She ran through the options in her mind, trying to think who among the servants would be the least likely to report the whole incident to her aunt.

She was still considering the matter when her door opened forcefully. She whirled in time to see Marigold strike a pose, her hand over her heart.

“I’m struck silent by your beauty, great lady!” she proclaimed.

“Demonstrably untrue.” Olivia laughed with relief at the sight of her friend. “What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting in the carriage outside.”

“It occurred to me that you might need a little help,” Marigold said. “Given your planned subterfuge.” Her eyes twinkled as she said the word.

“Thank you,” Olivia said with relief. “It’s foolish of me, but I only just realized that fact for myself. I’m impressed you remembered the location of my room, though. You’ve only been in here once.”

“I have an excellent memory. And besides, I had to give you these.” Marigold produced two shoes from behind her back, holding them out with a flourish.

Olivia sucked in a breath at the way the light shone through the glass slippers and sparkled off the small heels. She took them carefully from her friend, and Marigold twitched up her own long skirts to show she was similarly shod beneath the layers.

Olivia grinned and slipped the glass shoes on. They were cooler than a normal pair of shoes, but not uncomfortably so. She turned, the glass bending with her movement just like a normal shoe, and presented her back so Marigold could fasten her dress. Marigold wrestled with it, clearly not having much experience with the task, but she eventually succeeded. Stepping back, she surveyed the finished effect and pronounced her design efforts a triumph.

“You look incredible,” she said in a more sincere voice. “I’m so pleased.”

Olivia peered down at herself and smiled. “I think the Legacy deserves most of the credit, but I’m delighted. It’s just like my friend back home said—I really do feel like a princess going to a ball.” She beamed at her friend, who smiled back even more broadly, if that were possible.

“Perfect!” Marigold pronounced, clapping her hands once, and the two girls hurried out of the house, giggling all the way.

Since Olivia’s uncle and the other servants were all occupied with the evening meal in a different part of the house, the two ballgoers escaped unseen. Marigold’s coachman grumbled at their late arrival, but a look from Marigold silenced him.

“Oh dear,” Olivia murmured once they had both squeezed themselves into the carriage. “I didn’t think of the coachman. I hope we’re not in for a bumpy ride given how displeased he looked.”

But Marigold shook her head, clearly unconcerned. “I already had to bribe him shamelessly to get him to ignore my mother’s orders and bring me here before going to the palace. He has nothing to complain about.”

“Marigold!” Olivia stared at her. “Did you really?”

“Yes,” Marigold said, clearly not in the least bothered by her own actions. “But there’s no need to look so horrified. It’s not as if I stole my mother’s favorite jewels to do it. I used my own allowance.” She peered at Olivia. “And don’t start feeling bad or moping about it. I’ve always had a far bigger allowance than I need.”

Olivia swallowed her instinctive protests. Since Marigold’s actions were already done, she might as well enjoy the experience. She would just have to dedicate herself to making sure Marigold had a good time and enjoyed the ball despite her pessimistic outlook on the event.

“I’m now realizing another reason my aunt didn’t want me to accompany them,” Olivia said instead, trying to rearrange her skirts. “It’s hard enough fitting two enormous gowns in here. I’m not sure how my aunt and cousins fit three, but they certainly couldn’t have fit a fourth!”

She eyed Marigold’s gown, which was as large as her own but didn’t appear as fancy. Her heart sank. Marigold must have thrown on one of her old dresses without touching it up, so it was a creation unassisted by the Legacy.

“Do you really not mind me wearing this dress?” she asked.

Marigold stared at her for a moment before breaking into giggles. “Can you imagine me in it?” she asked through her laughter.

Olivia glanced down at the material and style and then back at her friend and her wildly clashing hair.

“No,” she admitted with her own chuckle. “I’m shocked your mother let you order it.” Her humor subsided after a moment, however. “Didn’t your mother comment on it when you came out dressed in a different gown?”

“She probably would have been relieved given how that one turned out,” Marigold said lightly, turning her head to gaze out the carriage window. “But she had already departed for the evening before I was dressed.”

There was an odd note in her voice when she said it, and Olivia fell silent, guessing her friend didn’t want to discuss her mother. Whatever other engagement was occupying Lady Emerson, it must be the reason she wasn’t attending the ball. And perhaps it was something Marigold had also wished to do, instead of being forced to go to the palace.

Olivia, however, was thrilled to be approaching the palace at last. She had used her days off to explore the capital, but she was still far from familiar with the large city. And she had never had the chance to enter the palace grounds, although the structure itself was a familiar landmark, able to be seen from every corner of the capital. The white stone towers and turrets, with their aquamarine roofs, soared far higher than any other building, their color reminding Olivia of the ocean.

Coming from an inland town, she still hadn’t overcome her awe of the sea or stopped enjoying the faint hint of salt that hung in the air even far back in the city. Manor Row was located near the palace, rather than close to the wharves or the beaches that stretched to the north and south of the city, but the water was still her favorite place to visit whenever she ventured on a longer excursion.

But for once her thoughts were turned firmly inland, her glass-shod toes already tapping to unseen music, reminding her that glass slippers loved to dance. Before she knew it, they were approaching the blazing lights of the palace, their carriage traveling along a path lined with elegant lanterns.

A soft sound of excitement slipped out of Olivia, and she looked across at her friend. “This is so exciting!”

Marigold grinned back, but the light in her eyes had edged from impulsive pleasure into something more feverish. So it wasn’t entirely a surprise when Olivia stepped down from the carriage with the help of a royal footman only to hear a ripping sound behind her. She turned to peer back through the door of the carriage.

“How clumsy of me.” Marigold grimaced down at the voluminous layers of her skirts.

“I’ll help you,” Olivia said quickly. “Do you have a needle and thread stashed in the carriage somewhere? Or in your purse, perhaps? I’m sure I can have it sewn up in no time.”

Marigold shook her head. “Leave it to me. It’s in a somewhat sensitive position, so I daren’t climb down until it’s fixed, but if you try to climb back in, there won’t be any room for either of us to maneuver.”

Olivia silently acknowledged that her friend was right about the difficulty of effecting repairs with both of them crammed into the carriage. “Take your time, then,” she said. “I don’t mind waiting.”

Marigold thrust her head out the far window and peered around before pulling back in and turning to Olivia.

“Don’t bother waiting for me. I can already see another vehicle coming along the carriage path behind us, and we need to clear the spot so its occupants can alight.” She grinned. “And don’t think about lurking here, waiting for me. You might be happy to wait, but I doubt they will be. You’ll just make everyone uncomfortable. Please just let the coachman know that he should pull around until he can find an out-of-the-way place to stop. I’ll have the tear fixed in a flash and then he can circle back around.” She fixed Olivia with a stern stare. “Just promise you won’t linger awkwardly somewhere waiting for me. You’re already late enough, so go inside and enjoy every moment of your big night.”

Olivia considered protesting, but the approaching carriage had nearly reached them, so there wasn’t time for an argument. “Very well,” she said with a sigh. “Although I feel terrible leaving you. I’ll keep a close eye on the entrance and join you as soon as you make it into the ball.”

Marigold nodded, gesturing for Olivia to hurry and pass on her message to the coachman. She did so, faithfully repeating Marigold’s instructions. The man must have still been irritated because he merely grunted before signaling to the horses to begin moving.

Olivia watched the carriage roll off, feeling a little lost. She had expected to enter the ball at the side of someone who had been many times before, not alone. But the next carriage was arriving, and the footman who had handed her out was waiting for her at the foot of the long, shallow flight of stairs leading up to the palace entrance.

He gestured for her to approach, so she drew a deep breath, grasped her skirts in both hands, and hurried toward him. Despite her fears of tripping over her dress and tumbling head over heels, she made it safely to the top of the stairs, the footman’s light support beneath her elbow ensuring her smooth arrival.

As soon as she reached the palace doors, the footman disappeared, running nimbly back down the stairs to help the next arrivals. Olivia was late so there wasn’t a constant stream of carriages, but another one had appeared at the distant gate, rolling toward the one that was currently disgorging its passengers. Knowing she wasn’t the only latecomer lifted her spirits a little.

The enormous double doors of the palace were thrown open, and Olivia stepped into the echoing stone entranceway. To her left, the lights and sounds of the ball spilled out through another set of double doors, these ones also propped open. But unlike the front doors, the ones to the ballroom had a ceremonial guard standing to attention on either side. Olivia once again gripped her skirts, ready to twitch them aside and display her glass-shod feet in order to gain entry.

But neither guard moved nor gave any indication of having seen her, and after a momentary hesitation, Olivia approached the ballroom. The footman must have seen her glass slippers as she climbed the stairs. Perhaps his true role was to screen out attendees who didn’t meet the requirement.

As much as Olivia had been longing for the moment she would arrive in the grand ballroom—had been dreaming of it since childhood—now that the moment had come, she felt hesitant. Her heart beat fast, and she had to stop herself from wiping her sweaty palms on her dress. It would have been much more comfortable to enter the ballroom beside Marigold.

She glanced back over her shoulder hopefully, looking for a glimpse of the Emerson carriage with its gold crest circling back around. But she could see no glimpse of it. The only people in view were the two ladies and the gentleman currently climbing the stairs as their carriage rolled away to make way for the next.

Olivia drew a deep breath. As little as she relished entering the ball alone—and possibly making an embarrassing misstep in the process—she didn’t fancy the idea of trailing in behind a crowd of strangers either. She had imagined herself as a princess, attending a royal ball, and she should act the part.

Straightening, she raised her head and swept across the entranceway to stand at the doorway of the ballroom. Four steps led down into the main room, giving her just enough height to glance across the whole room.

It was even larger than she had imagined, spanning the entire length of the palace. Glittering crystal chandeliers sent light sparkling down on the throng below, the bright colors of the women’s gowns contrasting with the gold accents of the room and the green of the potted trees and creeping vines that festooned the walls.

Olivia gave a soft gasp, taking a moment to admire the scene before her. A dance was underway, and couples twirled across the room in each other’s arms. She knew no one who might ask her to dance, but for a moment she allowed herself to swell with the hope that she would soon be among them.

As she stepped forward, lifting her skirts so her foot could safely reach for the first step, a trumpet fanfare sounded. She flinched and fled down the stairs as quickly as possible. If the people entering behind her were important enough to receive a fanfare on entry, she was doubly glad she hadn’t lingered.

But when she glanced back at the doorway from the safety of the crowd below, the three people behind her hadn’t yet reached it. She looked around the room, frowning, but now that she was on the ballroom floor, it was no longer so easy to see. Too many of the ball guests were head and shoulders taller than her.

She could, however, see the orchestra, on their raised platform, and she noted with a frown that it had no brass section. Nowhere in the room was there any sign of the trumpeters who had miscued their arrival announcement. But the noise couldn’t have come from the air.

Olivia was still craning her head, trying to see more of her surroundings, when the crowd around her rippled. Movement swept in her direction, a wave of people and a rush of murmurs.

She caught a few of the whispered words, “The prince,” and, “Prince Julius!” among them.

Olivia tried to melt backward along with the people beside her, but somehow the space around her emptied, and she found herself standing in a circle of clear floor, facing a tall young man.

He was bowing politely, apparently in her direction, his movement obscuring his face. But from the top of his dark, carefully groomed hair, to the resplendence of his black suit, with the deep purple and gold sash across the chest, he looked every inch a prince.

Combined with the whispers around her, she could come to only one conclusion. She was facing Crown Prince Julius of Sovar.

He spoke, still with his head partially bent.

“Will you dance with me?”

Her mouth dropped open in response to his words. And when he finally lifted his head and met her eyes, the polite smile on his face faltered as well.

Olivia’s jaw snapped shut. “You!” she cried.