The Ordinance

Chapter 21 - Natalia

The security check for the Renegades had gone surprisingly well earlier that afternoon. No one suspected anything. Although, why would they, when only she, Isabelle, and a few palace guards had ever seen these people before?
She'd wanted to talk to Jackson all night, but she knew she couldn't. She just savored the occasional moment or two she got with him whenever she stole a glass of champagne off his platter. He looked different in a server's uniform - younger, more innocent.

After her exhausting chat with Tristan Greene, she'd wanted to get away from the party. Now Natalia was sitting cross-legged on a small couch tucked into the corner of the huge ballroom. Her tiara was pinned neatly to her head, and her servants had forced her to wear her hair down tonight. She tucked a pesky strand of hair behind her ear. It kept falling in her face.

"It's the winter ball, Miss. You mustn't look like you're about to go out for a run or some nonsense." Natalia had glared at her handmaidens but complied. It was best not to argue with them when it came to her looks. She had insisted on wearing a dress that she picked out, however. She refused to show up looking like she was a walking, upside down teacup.

She'd chosen a navy blue chiffon dress with thick straps and a low neckline. The skirt of the dress was layered, but not poofy. It fell just above her ankles; she was determined to make it as little formal as possible without Maxon forcing her to change. With her dress she wore silver, open-toed heels and a long silver pendant with a crystal on the end.

Already she'd dismissed at least a dozen men who had asked for a dance, insisting she was tired. They were all too old or too shy to be worth her time. She didn't want her handmaidens to make up rumors about her being infatuated with some thirty year old Faerie nobleman. All she wanted was to dance with Jackson, but she couldn't do that either since he was posing as a lowly servant boy.
She watched Jackson whisk himself around the ballroom, offering drinks and appetizers. She thought of their kiss from the night before and smiled to herself. He looks almost giddy, she thought amusedly to herself.

While she was watching Jackson longingly, she'd failed to notice the tall, blonde boy that had walked in front of her.

"In love with the server boy, are we?" He said, following her gaze, smirking. "How utterly cliche of you."

"Absolutely not." She denied.

"Then I suppose it's alright if I ask you for a dance," he asked, offering a hand and a blinding grin.

Natalia smirked. The band had begun to play one of her favorite waltzes. It was a quick-paced and powerful piece.

"Alright," she stood and grasped his hand.
She took in his appearance. He was probably just an inch shorter than Maxon, and he had honey blonde hair and green eyes. His smile was captivating; it released an uncontainable amount of happiness, and yet his eyes had a lingering pain behind them.

He led them onto the dance floor, and grasped her waist with one hand and her hand with the other, "Your crown suits you," he said as they began the waltz.

"It used to be my mother's," she replied, without looking at her feet once. She loved this dance as a child, and remembered Dorian whisking her around the ballroom when they were little. She'd laughed like a madman because he would always get the steps wrong. Natalia smiled at the memory.

"The beautiful Queen Anastasia. You take after your mother, you know," he said staring right back at her, keeping perfect time with the music.

"So I've been told," he spun her. She grinned at his immaculate dancing abilities, "Your waltz instructor must have been miraculous," she told him as she folded herself into his arms.

"I'm self-taught," he replied, flashing his dazzling grin again.

"Surely a nobleman such as yourself had an instructor," she pointed out as he continued to lead flawlessly.

"I'm not a nobleman, Princess," he said, looking amused with himself. "I work for the Domestic Division of War. I specialize in explosives."

"Is that so?" She asked, wishing the song wasn't coming to an end soon.

"Yes," The humor left his expression, "We've been quite busy lately."

She looked at him, perplexed. "Why is that?"

"The King has asked us to have some new plans ready by the winter celebrations." He looked completely serious now. They stood still, Natalia frozen with panic, as the waltz ended and everybody else was dipping their partner. Natalia realized their hands were still clasped together. She looked at their hands but did nothing.

"I never got your name," she said, a plan formulating in her head.

If she had taken the boy's tip correctly, she'd only have minutes to ready herself and the castle.

She couldn't hear the boy's response over the crowds cheers for the band, but was able to catch, "Whitaker."

Her mind flying in a million different directions, she stood on her tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Before she disappeared in the crowd, she caught a final glimpse of the boy's dazzling smile. It seemed like a beacon of hope in what could turn out to be a very, very bad night.
Despite the crowd, she ran as quickly as she could toward the palace kitchen. The Renegades - at least the ones that weren't in the ballroom - would be in there. She didn't want to announce the fact that the Humans were planning to attack to the whole ballroom. Panic would do no good for a bunch of innocent civilians in a room full of armed men. She took a moment to thank all the gods she knew for that boy and his kindness in telling her. Hopefully, with his warning she could get the Renegades armed and ready for battle.
Jackson, she thought worriedly, where is he?

She prayed again, hoping against hope that he would be safe. She'd had her first kiss with him just last night; she couldn't lose him now.
As she finally got through the ballroom, trying to quell the panic in her chest, she sprinted to the kitchen. When she got there, people were milling around lazily, probably waiting for the signal that she'd exposed Isabelle. In the distance, she heard somebody ring their champagne flute, about to make an announcement.

She caught her breath, or at least, she tried.
"That bastard," she heaved, "he's going to attack us. Arm yourselves."

People stared at her in shock, comprehending but not acting.

"Quickly!" She yelled, summoning a ball of fire in her hand.

Like a knife to her heart, she could hear someone in the ballroom scream, "ATTACK!"

"May the warrior goddess Vaquera guide you all," she mumbled.

A series of names and faces surged to the surface of her thoughts: Maxon, Dorian, Gregor, Isabelle, Jackson, even the kind, blonde stranger came to her mind. But now was not the time for worries to cloud her thoughts. Now was not the time to get on her knees and pray.

No, It was time to fight.