It Started With A Mask (A Cinderella Story) [revised]

Chapter Six

11:00PM (1 HOUR TO MIDNIGHT)

Insolent wench. How dare she treat me as such? I am her Prince and soon to be her King! I frowned down the corridor where that flurry of opinions had bustled down, back towards the ball. Good riddance. Such easy expression of thoughts is dangerous for a woman. Especially a beautiful one such as her.

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I hurried out of sight and somehow managed to stumble back to the small doors that I had exited from in search of a powder room. I leaned against the wall, sighing in relief and exhaustion. My mind reeled over that encounter with the Prince, and came to the stunning realisation of how utterly foolish I was in his presence. If he had seen more of my face, he would have surely locked me in the dungeons for such blatant disrespect of royalty. How would I have explained that to Hagatha?

‘How dare you insult the Prince, and embarrass your family?’ my mouth twisted sourly at the thought of another shrieking rebuke from my less than wonderful Aunt. I pushed away from the wall, straightened my dress, before entering the ball, a pleasantly faux smile plastered on my face. The splendour of this room never ceased to blind me each time I took care to glance around as I made my way across the floor. I had caught sight of Coralie when I was suddenly impeded by the same man with the panther mask from earlier stepped in front of me, and I mentally huffed in frustration. 

"Madame. You have not honoured me with a dance" he bowed low, as I struggled to remember his name and to find a way out of this. Unfortunately Mouse was not available for rescue.

"I am sorry monsieur; it had slipped my mind what with the excitement of this ball. I…uh…shall we, Lord…um…" I grasped for a name, and he provided it.

“Guillame, mademoiselle. Andre Guillame” despite his leisurely tone, his eyes tightened in what seemed to be annoyance. “So mademoiselle, may I have this dance?” I swallowed tightly and nodded in acquiescence.

He offered his hand, and after briefly staring at it like a live rat, I took his hand, trying desperately not to rip it out of his firm grip, and allow him to lead me onto the dance floor. A soft, pleasant song drifted from the small orchestra, and Lord Guillame guided my arms to the appropriate positions and swept me gracefully across the floor. I tried desperately to avoid his intense gaze, but also prevented my eyes from falling to my feet.

Do not step on him. Do not step on him. Do not step on him. My goodness, please do not step on him!

“You are a fine dancer mademoiselle” he complimented, clearly not noticing how tense I was, and how it was sheer willpower that kept me from falling over. I smiled tightly, hoping he couldn’t feel how clammy my hands were.

Suddenly, I caught movement behind him, and saw Mouse standing there with a panicked expression on his face when he saw the predicament I was trapped in. I begged with my eyes to have him rescue me, and he started to make his way over, but a flock of girls cut him off, and Lord Guillame swept me away. I cursed so vehemently in my mind that my father would have rolled twice over in his grave in an attempt to scrub out my mind.

“So, what fair part of France are you from?” he interrupted my distasteful mental monologue, his deep voice cutting right into the deep recesses of my mind. It gave me the shivers. And not the good kind.

“Well…um, I…am from…this…little town called…Lorraine and it is…far, far north from here” I stammered, desperately trying to think of a plausible story.

“Hmmm…I always liked the north. Perhaps I could visit you there one day” my eyes widened and snapped up to look at him. I gulped as his intense eyes bore into mine, and I leaned away as he tried to lean forward.