Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch 56.2: A distraction

A lively tune drifted from one of the balconies of the ballroom. Below, pairs of elves swayed in a fast-paced group dance, a clash of colourful silks and velvets, all long, graceful limbs.

All of that practice had paid off, Ella had only stepped on someone once. Lady Rhiannon would not have been exactly proud, but certainly not too displeased.

As the last jaunty accords sounded, the dance came to an end, and all the participants took a bow. Ella smiled at her partner of the minute—Lord Bron, was it? She couldn't remember—and she excused herself to get something to drink.

A courtier announced guests should begin to head downstairs, as it was almost time for the Queen's speech. Ella ignored this. Instead, she located a server and grabbed two glasses of lemon water. She found herself wandering up to the upper floors of the ballroom, towards the terrace.

The terrace was domed like a greenhouse, warm with magic and dozens of flaming bronze brassiers. There was a tufted bench in the corner, behind a potted plant, upon which Ella let herself drop. It was blissfully quiet, devoid of people. The only sound was the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of the rain pelting the glass.

Ella gulped down both glasses of water and took the moment to compose herself, leaning against the windows of the dome, eyes closed. She was warm and a little sweaty, her ears still buzzing from the onslaught of voices and music. A lone curl had escaped her updo, the only one that had bested Katram's hair potions.

She pressed her cheek to the glass, watching the storm rage outside. The sky was bruise-blue, not a single star in sight. She knew she had to go down for dinner, but she allowed herself this rare pocket of silence.

The closing of the door, followed by a couple of footsteps, made her eyes pop open.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know someone was here."

Ella closed her eyes briefly and sighed before painting on a placid smile and turning. Out of the shadows came a young man, the fire from the brassiere casting him in gold. Ella straightened a little. "Prince Cian," she dipped her head.

"I thought everyone had gone down to dinner," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry to intrude on you. I shall leave you be."

"Nonsense, I was only resting my legs before dinner," Ella said, moving to make room on the bench. "Care to join me?"

He hesitated a moment, but then he let himself drop beside her. He was all long, slim lines. A large, awkward dog. "It's nice out here, isn't it?"

"Mmm, it is rather loud inside," she said casually. "It's nice to get a moment of quiet after all that dancing. Do you dance, Prince Cian?"

"Gods, no," he laughed creakily. "I am not a good dancer. I would hate to injure my partner by stepping on them."

Ella cracked a smile. "Ah, you are cursed with two left feet. A disease I know all too well."

He looked at her incredulously. "You? But I saw you dancing all night. You are good."

Ella arched a brow, teasing. "My, were you watching me, Prince?"

His skin went from brown to rosy. "I—I was just glancing," he stuttered.

Ella laughed lightly. He was handsome, Prince Cian, but he carried himself in that abashed way some men did when they weren't entirely aware of how attractive they were. He reminded her of a younger Will Hereford. Sweet and boyish.

She took mercy on him, changing the subject. "Well, I think dancing is over-praised. There are other things to do at a party. What do you like to do?"

Prince Cian rubbed the back of his neck, his hands dotted with two small golden rings. "I am not much for parties at all. They are not my cup of tea if I am honest."