Masquerading

1: Dear Princess of the Freesias

THE grand ballroom of the palace of Aradanas stole his breath as he entered, despite the fact that he'd seen it countless times before.

Tall windows stretched to the vaulted ceilings almost all the way around the hall, so the starry night sky winked at all the guests. The room had a rich gold glow, caused by the highly polished marble floor reflecting the thousands of candles in the large chandeliers suspended high above.

Leif of Leressea marveled at how the castle staff had managed to transform the room so drastically since he'd seen it mere days ago. Tables with majestic sculpted floral arrangements and carvings made in ice dotted the landscape of the room. Guests either stood admiring the arrangements with their drinks in hand or were already dancing.

"Honey wine, My Lord?"

Thanking the attendant—clad in stark white with a gaudy pink and gold mesh mask—he took a glass. Sipping the drink, a favourite of the Princess', he strolled the room, familiarizing himself with the other guests. There was no knowing which of them he knew, not with the elaborate headpieces and masks that allowed guests varying degrees of anonymity.

Even the serving staff were masked, all dressed identically to the young boy that he'd just encountered.

Leif's eyes set on the constantly moving mass of bodies dancing; bowing, spinning, stepping and gesturing. The night, and his reason for being there, was dually dedicated to celebrating the eighteenth year of the kingdom's Princess, and presenting her for betrothal.

He noted from under his dark glittering mask, the princess was somehow in three places at once. There were exactly three women with rose gold hair twisted into elaborate hairstyles, with identical winged masks. They twirled through the room in the arms of nobility or visiting royalty of all ages in gowns worthy of the Princess of Aradanas.

Layers of soft mesh-like fabric enveloped each of the three women in delicate flowing skirts that trailed out behind them. Sleeves that mimicked the skirts were fastened around their upper arms and were so long, he wondered how one functioned with sleeves like that.

Each gown was wrapped in a kaleidoscope of butterflies, twisting like an iridescent river around the body and spilling down the skirt. The effect was nothing short of stunning, and none of them more so than the princess wearing pale green; the colour set her hair off in the most perfect way.

As the princess was whisked past him, Leif shuddered to think of the young lady under the Lord who was aged enough to grandfather her. Tossing his shoulders back, he grabbed a silver dusted flower from one of the arrangements and made his approach.

"Might I cut in?"

The older gentleman frowned at him, but stepped back as decorum dictated. Leif bowed deeply to the woman in the pale green gown, then tucked the flower into the twists in her hair.

"For you, Milady."

"Thank you, kind sir." As she curtsied, she eyed the crowd that edged the dance floor. "You did yourself no favours with the gentry."

Leif didn't acknowledge the men who'd been waiting their turns, but focused his attention on the steps of the dance that had them circling each other. In a bold move, Leif deviated from the steps and pulled her into the close-hold earlier than called for.

"How are the suitors treating you, dear Princess of the Freesias?"

The young woman in his arms grinned mischievously. "Suitors. That's what we're going to talk about?"

He hummed in answer, his eyes scanning the room quickly as he pivoted her outwards.

"The Princes of Themi are interesting, each one more willing to throw his brother under the horse's hooves than the other. But they are charming, and I suppose, not unpleasant to look at."

"They're wearing masks." Leif's lips twitched as he glanced at the group of Princes in open-chested shirts.

"How astute of you to notice." She flushed despite her sarcasm. "One of the young Gozli Lords was quite engaging, but he dances like an ox. There are many noblemen I haven't yet met, but the evening is still in it's early ages."

"And where do I rank among those you've met?"

Showing no indication of having heard his question, she looked with boredom across the hall. "The Lord of Kyra is older than life itself, and I thank you, Prince Leif of Leressea for saving me from him.  I imagine you will no doubt have to step in a few times tonight."

He laughed, at both her lack of answer and her distaste for the elderly Lord. "At your service, Milady." He executed another low bow, only to be interrupted as he stood. It was bound to happen, no one man would be allowed to monopolize the Princess' time. Certainly not tonight, when she would choose the man who would rule by her side.

With a nod, he made a swift exit from the center of the room, where too many eyes were focused.  The edges of a celebration, where people feigned interest in the main event and spoke uninhibited by social graces, was where Leif had learned was the best place to be. It wasn't long before he was overhearing or being engaged in conversation with several of the Princes and Lords hoping to catch the Princess' eye.

Most of them weren't worth her attention.

Leif excused himself awkwardly from the presence of a Prince who had taken his bait and was now detailing all his conquests to the small group that had gathered around him. There were a few women present who looked as if they would be ready to get on that list, if the opportunity arose. And Leif knew it would.

Definitely not worth her attention.