The Heirs of Death

4.1 The Ball

THE BALL

If I had known the moment Ramos had proposed a ball that the next three days were to be this tedious, I would have refused. Or better yet, would have run out of the room and jumped out of the first window I found.

Ever since the words began spreading, the preparation started, accompanied by a building stress. The citizens wondered about the hastiness of the decision, asking the Court Leader as to why he had called for it on such a short notice. But until it was time, we couldn't tell them. Yet, they all came prepared, wearing smiles on their faces and gleeful glints in their eyes. Royal balls were always an address to joy and mirth, and never would it change.

Staring at the magical projection--a screen sewn of magic that fed on my powers, allowing me to see wherever I wanted within my magic's reach-- playing in front of my wall-length mirror, I observed how men and women, both of common and middle and relatively high birth, occupied the ballroom. A simple spell, but it did well in showing all there was to see as some maids attended my hair, the others still arguing about what crown I should wear.

To say the ballroom looked like a scene snatched from a majestic fairytale would not give justice. Even through a magical window, the cascading, golden chandeliers were breath-taking as they reached so low until almost brushing the top of the swaying bodies' head. Golden lights corruscated from the glowing candles. Warm sheens glided against the dance floor, wrapping every guest, glimmering against the gold and silver of dresses. Everything was polished to perfection, giving a unique glint to the room as a glass stairway led to the heart of the castle. And at the far end of the vast dance hall, seated on a raised dais, were the three royal thrones. The space was so large it could accommodate Cantelot's citizens and the neighbouring cities with ease.

From the ceilings, and swirled around the columns, were scattered flowers and twirling, silver vines, adorning perfectly the glass statues standing against the large, french windows.

But even as the hall gave an elegant, soothing vibe, it didn't help much in easing the tension building in my chest. If ever, it only made it worst. Made the anticipation of the moment where there would be no more masks and lies threaten my heart to stop.

After this night, there would be no comeback. With each ticking minute, that moment became closer. And I waited. Waited for the time there would be no more secrets. No more hiding. No more lying.

Sitting in my armchair, wrapped in a satin, scarlet robe, I stared at the outline of my dress hanging on the wall opposite me, next to a cover trove of jewelry. Wrapped in a black, protective fabric, I couldn't even see the color, less to see the design. I wondered, after all, if I should have taken part in designing instead of falling asleep discussing what type of fabric should be used. I would have loved taking head in designing, would have enjoyed the long arguments about what pattern to follow and what shade of silk to add--but preparations and training rendered me powerless.