An Inferno of Ice

An Inferno of Ice - Part 13

Thanks to many training sessions and previous undercover missions, walking in shoes as elegant as these does not pose a challenge. The Infernal Court makes sure to ready its caseworkers for any plausible situation. Alyssa and I proceed through the halls of the Frost palace, which somehow seems to glow just a shade brighter than usual. or maybe it's just my nerves. I hear the echo of voices before we get anywhere close to the spiral staircase. By the time we begin to descend, the din has slowly built into a low roar. When we reach the ground floor, Alyssa leads me past the library and Throne room Into the opposite wing. The grand ballroom is aglow with bright light. The moment we step inside, I feel my jaw drop. If I had somehow thought I was getting used to the awe-inspiring beauty and grandeur of this place, that notion has been Sufficiently destroyed. The room itself is octagonal shaped. Similar to the throne room, the domed ceiling is transparent, allowing the dazzling light from Icelandia's three moons to shine through freely. Rainbow shards of light refract off the walls wherever moonbeams meet ice. There is also a ring of glass mirrors placed strategically at varying heights, reflecting The multicolored glow down upon the scene below. Intricate round tables covered in white and blue lace are neatly arranged around the outer perimeter, and it's hard to tell whether they are made of glass or ice. Carefully set on each table is a crystal vase of Lazulian Ice Flowers. Their deep blue-black blooms permeate the air with a fresh, sharp scent that's almost sweet. In the very center of each vase however, there is a tall glass cylinder containing what is unmistakably fire. White ribbons of smoke float above these paradoxical centerpieces, but I still have to admit that they are beautiful in an intimidating kind of way. In the middle of the vast room is a completely round area of floor in sharp contrast to the rest. Instead of standard icy silver, it's a warm reddish brown. To my surprise, I recognize it as wooden. The difference is so jarring, yet it somehow fits. People are dressed in every possible color and style. The guests seem to range in age from that of Princess Rosalie to older than the king. Some are seated at the tables, being served by the attendants. Others mill about in little groups, mingling and talking with crystal glasses in their hands. Still more are dancing, whirling and twirling beneath the sky full of blue, silver, and purple light. My entrance doesn't appear to garner much attention until someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn to see that Alyssa has melted away into the crowd. Standing before me now is Damon's sister. The princess is dressed in a floor-length gown of purest white. Her hair is elegantly swept up off her shoulders, and a small silver circlet rests on her head, studded with glittering gems that sparkle against her pale locks. She gives me a tentative smile and gestures for me to follow her. As we make our way through the gala, I notice that people stop to stare. Dancers freeze in place when Rosalie and I pass by. Little clusters of people at tables and milling around pause in mid-conversation to gape at the stranger being escorted through their midst by a member of the royal family. Forcing myself to ignore the attention, I follow Rosalie toward a rectangular table raised slightly above the rest. Seated facing the crowd, King Rudolph is dressed in robes of midnight blue trimmed in silver with a purple dress shirt beneath them. The crown glitters atop his head, and I'm not entirely sure if the sudden wave of cold I feel is imagined or not. Then I see the princess shiver beside me, and I know it was not a figment of my imagination at all. Beside the king, Queen Ileana is resplendent in a purple gown. it is also trimmed in silver, complementing the king's attire perfectly. Her hair is elaborately woven around and even through her gleaming silver crown so that it looks like a permanent fixture on her head. Seated with his back to us is the prince. All I can see from here is his black formal jacket and neatly styled black hair with its distinctive white streaks. Rudolph is the first to spot us, and the smile he gives me is chilling. "Well, well," he breathes, his dark eyes boring into mine. "Good evening, Lady Ember Sundon." His tone is darkly amused when he carefully annunciates my fake last name. I bite back my emotions and give a polite smile and a curtsy of respect. "Your highness," I reply calmly. Ileana smiles warmly at me as Rosalie takes a seat beside her mother. Damon rises to his feet just as he had done at dinner the previous evening. When he turns around, I can see that he's wearing a pure black ensemble with subtle silver highlights. Instead of being any of the standard colors of his kingdom, his dress shirt is a deep red. As I step up beside him, it occurs to me that our outfits unintentionally complement each other, just as the king and queen's do. It takes a lot for me to keep my reaction hidden. "Good evening," Damon says as I take his elbow. "You look stunning." This time, I can't fight the blush that rises in response. "As do you," I manage to answer as we sit down. "You've done a remarkable job getting people to evacuate." he adds in an undertone. I cast an incredulous look around the room, which is simply alive with guests. "This isn't a full house? I ask in surprise. "No way!" The prince gestures toward the outer wall, which glimmers a near perfect clear and shows a view of the courtyard outside. "normally those doors would be open, and there would be people both indoors and outdoors. You managed to cut the attendance down by more than half." This information is hard to process. It brings me some relief, but the number of people still in attendance is staggering. They will have to bear witness to the destruction of the king's crown. Sitting directly opposite me, Rudolph wastes no time in looking me over with a critical eye and just as quickly dismisses me, almost like I'm not worth the time it takes to be inspected. He won't be thinking that for much longer. Damon taps my shoulder, and I lean in to hear him over the buzz of hundreds of other conversations. "The first few formal dances belong to the royal family and their chosen partners. Then we swap around before everyone else is free to join us. When it is your turn to dance with my father, I think that would be your best chance to catch him off guard. it will certainly be a spectacle, but I can get Mother and Rosalie out of harm's way so all you have to worry about is that crown." I stare into those fathomless dark eyes and feel myself smile. A real, genuine smile of pure gratitude. "Thank you." I tell him softly for the second time in as many days. "I never would have gotten this far if it weren't for your help." That mischievous grin flashes across the prince's face. "I know. Now let's get out there and save my father and my kingdom."