Ever After: A Cinderello Story

Ever After: Part VIII - The Day of the Masque -

"Engaged . . .to a Belgian?" The disbelief was plainly written across Henriqua's face. The King's heart sank as he looked at the desolation in his daughter's eyes. His words that morning had been truer than he had suspected. Henriqua was in love and desperately so. Oh, he was cruel Fate was, to place this man in his daughter's way only to take him from her in the worst possible way. He tried to console Henriqua in his own calm way.
"I'm afraid so." He put a hand on her shoulder as he stared out at the sunset. It was certainly magnificent that day, with bands of pink and purple stretched across the sky over Catalonia. It played on the glowing towers and windows of the chateau, blinding some people if they glanced upward. Henriqua shook his hand off.
"That's impossible. There has to be some mistake." He would never do that, not Nicolás. He would never betray her like this. It was impossible. She turned to her father defiantly, instantly cut down by his sympathetic glance.

"She was traveling by boat this afternoon. The Baron was quite reluctant to talk about it."
Henriqua's voice was filled with the anger of disillusionment. "It is no wonder with tidings such as these!" She buried her head in her hand. "If he was betrothed, he damn well should have had the decency to say something!"
King Mario knew more about these things than he let on. "Would you have listened?"
"Of course not, I would have . . ." Henriqua lifted her head, the vision of a lovely young man in a burgundy doublet with blue-rimmed eyes staring at her with grief written across his face in the form of pearly tears filled his mind. Oh, it all made sense now, pitiless, merciless sense. "Oh, God, how could I have been so blind? There I was, pouring my royal heart out to him and he was simply trying to bid me farewell!"

Her father reached out and ruffled her hair. "It is a strong man who keeps his wits about her with you trying to steal his heart."
Henriqua was back to his previously cynical self. "Yes, and what a clumsy thief I turned out to be." She almost choked; how could he have not seen it? How absurd and pathetic he must have looked!
"Come on, Henriqua. There are other choices . . ." Even the King did not believe his own statement at that moment. His daughter looked as though she wanted to die at that moment. There were no other choices for him.
Henriqua stared back at him in disbelief. The understanding in his eyes escaped her as she threw off his hand and ran down the stairs and through the gardens. She had to get away from her life.
"You are his friend, Giselle, you must help him!" Marcia was struggling to keep her voice under control. Giselle's cowardice was driving him absolutely mad. "She expects to see him!"
Her companion pulled on her threadbare silk dress and gestured to the rest of his outfit. "But, I am nobody! The princess will never see me!" Marcia had a brainwave.

"Then, go to La Vinci! Surely a painter can see another painter!" Giselle was tongue tied by this point. She would give his right arm to see Leonora La Vinci but it was too much to hope for. She wanted to help Daniel, but what could she do? A woman had to be realistic.
"I am but an apprentice, señorita, and she is the greatest painter in the world. I could no sooner talk to God." Marcia groaned with exasperation as he glanced toward the three women that exited the dressmaker's shop carrying packages by the dozens.
"For once in your life, woman, be bold!" Marcia gave Giselle a sharp push and rushed back to the carriage.
Giselle still couldn't figure out why she was doing this crazy thing. She stared, wide-eyed, at the palace, lit with what seemed like thousands of torches. She watched from behind a wall as guests in every single color ever created exited gilded carriages and entered, laughing and smiling behind jeweled and feathered masks. A sound from behind her made her turn around in fright. It was only a short and stocky woman dressed in the costume of a page. Giselle quickly climbed the wall and peered over as the little woman prepared to use a potted plant for a commode. She grabbed another pot and held it over the woman's head from the wall. The last thing the page heard that night was a cracking noise as the pot landed on her head.