Amora came for the food...not Prince Charming.
After the loss of her father and a mother she never got to meet, Amora's life has been nothing but unkind to her (huge thanks to her wicked stepfamily). With the sudden help of a secretive plant fairy...
Three warning tolls from the grandfather clock echoed damningly loud enough for all to hear in the kingdom of Juniper. The midnight death sentence followed Amora relentlessly as she burst through the blood red draperies that divided the balcony from the ballroom.
The elegant music enveloped her back in with a false tune of leisure that she knew she could no longer afford. Pristine marble columns, friendly guests in satin fineries, and insatiable snacks of the rarest caliber do no good in tempting her to stay now.
Not when Prince Marcellus himself was chasing after her.
"My Lady, wait!"
'Nope. Me voy. I gotta go.'
She started forward, nearly crashing into a short girl in a purple gown that puffed around her waist like activated leaven.
"Watch it!"
Amora had no time to apologize. Even if she did, the girl probably wouldn't have cared. The moment the other female attendees caught sight of the handsome Prince stepping out the balcony curtains, squeals of delight erupted all around her.
Hundreds of guests began to collectively herd themselves to him as Amora weaved through the masses in the opposite direction. The need to escape this claustrophobic inducing situation was so great, that she began to hyperventilate. That was until she finally reached the ballroom doorway.
There were no guards in sight.
'No time to question!'
"Excuse me-let me through!" Prince Marcellus demanded on deaf ears.
She looked back to find him completely surrounded. Perfect.
As Amora made haste back the way she came, a sense of relief begins to settle in. She was almost there. She just had to make it down the stairs. There at the bottom sat her magic carriage, waiting patiently outside. Just as Magnolia said.
"Amora!"
Her heart sank. It was him. It had to be.
She didn't dare look back and check. Quickly, she two-stepped down the marble stairs as if a fire had suddenly flourished behind her and hungrily sought to burn her up to chars.
The carriage door opened all by itself. The seated coachman made no attempt to come to her aid, their blank glass eyes focused absently on Amora.
About two feet away from freedom, she felt the tip of her right shoe bend awkwardly. She gasped as she started to lean forward. Luckily, she managed to free her foot in time and placed it back down on solid ground.
The feeling of rough uneven gravel told her that something was missing.
'My chancla!'
She knew she had to leave immediately...but there was no way she could leave the ball one foot descalza!
Amora scurried back a few steps to snatch it up, but when she bent down, a shadow loomed over her. Realization sunk in slow and true, like the steady carve of a hunter's knife skinning their captured prey.
First she saw his pearlescent shoes on the step adjacent from her eyeline, uncannily clean. As she straightens, he stands u natural y still as a statue in his black royal attire, white sash, and golden shoulder pad things...honestly she didn't know what they were called but that hardly mattered.
She should've just kept going. She shouldn't even have come. Because now the man of the hour has her right where he wants her.
"Darling..." Prince Marcellus begins, his dark brows push up his forehead. At first glance he appears sympathetic, but then those hazel eyes flash wide and Amora is quickly reminded of why she was running in the first place. "...you know you have nowhere to go."
She trembled slightly, sweat falling down the side of her head. Her right hand tightened around her shoe.
'Oh, stars, I'm about to do something really stupid!'
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