Pumpkin Patch Princess

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: So Close, and Still So Far

The ballroom was the biggest, most beautiful room I had ever seen in my life.

It was decorated in rosy pink-and-gold marble, which glowed in all the flickering candlelight. Evergreen wreaths dotted with holly had been draped over every surface and wrapped around the golden pillars that filled the ballroom.

Two trees stood on either side of the enormous fireplace, their gold and silver ornaments twinkling in the light of the flames. One wall was entirely covered with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the kingdom, which looked like a thousand twinkling lights in a sea of dark blue.

I had left my hair mostly down, with the sides pinned up. Even though we were inside, an annoying breeze kept blowing my wavy, dark brown bangs right into my eyes. I looked at the windows, but they were all closed, and then I realized that the "gust" was coming from all of the twirling ball gowns as people waltzed past me.

I was surprised to see a decent number of men standing around, looking bored. They had to be the guests' dads, brothers, or cousins, because who would bring their husbands or boyfriends to a pageant like this?

The fifty-piece orchestra began playing a lively song. My eyes wandered up the gilded marble walls to the balcony that ran around the entire length of the room. It was almost as crowded as the dance floor below. Up there, though, everyone was female and wore much plainer, simpler dresses.

"The peanut gallery," I muttered, hurrying toward the stairs.

The glass slippers clicked on the steps as I ran up and wove through the crowd. I spotted many familiar faces from Trainee Week. Emily Locke stood talking to Gwendolyn Peters and Isobel James on the stairway, while Sloane and Jessaline - who had apparently been allowed to attend the festivities - hovered by the punch bowl, watching Princess Rebecca down below.

I even saw a number of Council members, like Madam Pennywell and Madam Fairweather, who stood chatting and sipping flutes of sparkling champagne. I felt a little homesick for Maud, but I knew she was studying hard for the Bar exam.

I leaned over the balcony railing and gazed at the crowd below. Cynthia should have been easy to spot in her midnight blue dress, since almost everyone else had chosen red, pink, or peach gowns, but there was no sign of her.

For one terrifying moment, I considered the possibility that she had never even come inside. I imagined her lost or fainting somewhere in the dark castle gardens, all alone . . .

I caught sight of Kit - I mean, Prince Christopher - greeting a gorgeous brunette in a ridiculous-looking, bright orange ballgown. It showed way too much skin when she bent over to curtsy to him. My heart gave a little clench and my stomach lurched at the thought of him marrying one of these princesses one day.

That was what he needed. That was what he had been born to do. He couldn't throw his life and his crown away on a commoner. On me.

I forced myself to turn away before the tears began.

That was when I spotted Muffet, draped over a marble statue and frantically waving his paw for my attention.

"I found her!" he said, when I hurried over. "She fainted outside and they carried her up here."

He hopped off and led me through the crowd of fairy godmothers. Just off the balcony, in an elegant room filled with oil paintings and potted plants, Cynthia lay on a cream-colored velvet sofa with one arm thrown over her forehead.

I ran over and knelt by her side. "Cynthia! What happened?"

Muffet jumped onto her stomach and stared down at her in fascination. "Her eyes are rolling around like snails in a bowl," he reported.