Pirates, Princes, and Stars

chapter six

That evening, in the burning light of a hundred candles, Cragen's famous pearls shone around the ballroom windows. Thousands of guests had arrived. The dockside girls trampled into the ballroom, heralded by the King's criers, each keen to convince the Prince that it was she who had rescued him that day. They were as different to the aristocracy as cats to flamingos. The dockside girls with their tanned faces and hopeful smiles watched the noblewomen in awe and amusement. They stuck together in a cluster, pointing and giggling. Meanwhile the noblewomen floated through the ballroom, confined in dresses that may be legally classed as architecture. Their cheeks and eyelids had been painted with golds, blues, greens, and all the colours of the sea, as was the fashion at the time.

Ladies glided across the chequered marble floor like chess pieces. They sailed past tables piled high with pastries, local confections, sweet wine, and blazing candelabras. The ballroom's ceiling towered above them. It was a huge dome, painted with deep midnight blue and gold-leaf to depict a map of the ocean surrounding Cragen, and all the monsters she contained. Occasionally, a monster would roar.

The band played a foreign piece, heavy in strings and flute. Couples swirled across the floor, many laughing.

Anahita's eyes had never had a meal this heavy. There was too much to take in. The golden candlelight, the huge plumed costumes, and the quick, butterfly-flutter of bows against violin strings. Every human looked so strange, dressed in towering wigs, giddy from wine.

"Lyda!" called an elderly man dressed in mauve. He wore a mask shaped like a crow's face.

Lyda waved pleasantly, teeth grit.

"Is he relevant?" asked Anahita.

"Shush," she replied, fixing her necklace so the pearl sat perfectly centred between her clavicles.

Anahita lifted herself onto her toes for a better view of the room, grasping Lyda's forearm for balance.

"What are you doing now?" Lyda demanded.

Ignoring her, Anahita scanned the faces dancing through the room. Beyond a sea of masked men and painted-faced women were two dark silver thrones. The metal had been fashioned into a shape reminiscent of waves, twisting and folding into itself, studded with Cragen pearls where the seafoam should be. The King sat atop the greater one, laughing uproariously and pointing to something that was happening on the dancefloor. Next to him sat his Queen, an older, softer version of Lyda without the sea-bitten harshness.

Anahita turned, and a lady with a cascade of gilded moths in her wig soared past her like a ship. The lady laughed, placing a gloved hand on the hip of a much younger man. She guided him to the periphery of the room towards a mountain of iced cakes.

Watching them, Anahita said, "I would like to try some butter."

Lyda spared her a small, sideways look. "What?"

"I hear it is delicious."

"You aren't wrong, but I don't want you loose in the ballroom demanding butter from people."

Anahita glared at her. "I have manners you know. I am a medic."

"Those are two wildly contradictory statements."

"You should consider being politer, or I shall plan to threaten you with blackmail."

"Have a wonderful time," she said through grit teeth, surveying the ballroom like an admiral.

Anahita decided to do the same. She scanned the crowd for any trace of a tall, blonde-haired boy. She presumed he would be somewhere near the King, being his son. She looked at the King and his wife, laughing on their thrones.