Playing Princess

Playing Princess 2.27

I desperately wished, more than anything in the world, that I could have enjoyed the festivities. I wanted to gasp and clap with as much enthusiasm at everyone else when the acrobats spun and twisted in the air, performing impossible tricks with their lithe bodies. I wanted to volunteer when the fire dancers went around collecting unsuspecting audience members, incorporating them into their show.

Fear from being found out, from the inauguration speech to come, forced me to my chair the entire time, watching impassively from behind the mask.

I hadn’t even gotten a chance to look at the mask properly and only knew that it was white and plainly shaped around the top half my face, with clear-cut holes punched in for my eyes. It stopped at the tip of my nose then curved around my cheek, leaving my mouth free to force a smile or murmur a half-hearted reply to a guest that dared to strike up a conversation with me.

The performances came and went faster than I realised. By the time the orchestra had subtly set up in the corner, it dawned on me that this was the last event of the night before it was my turn.

I knotted my hands tightly together and clenched my teeth behind pursed lips. My fingers were twitching a little from the nerves racking my body. For once, I was grateful for the thick layer of skirts that cushioned the lower half of my body. It hid how much my body trembled.

I figured I wasn’t going to dance anyway, after seeing how limited my movement was in the dress. Giving him a curt nod, I turned back to the crowd which soon began clearing for couples to take the floor.

Ballroom dancing, I thought with a grimace, wringing my fingers together. Never liked it.

But that didn’t mean I was rubbish at it. Watching the dancers out on the floor with an upbeat piece to get the crowd moving, I recognised it as a foxtrot almost immediately. The piano in the orchestra added to the lively tempo and mood, giving a slight jazzy atmosphere as the guests began conversing with one another more freely.

How long does this last? I wondered exasperatedly. Dragging out the long wait towards my speech did my poor nerves no good.

I’d lost count of how many dances they’d played, when suddenly, the musical ensemble slowly transitioned into a traditional piece Allegra had once made me listen and learn a dance to.

And much to my utter horror, hopefully disguised by the mask, those familiar blue eyes marched up to me and dipped into a quick bow.

“Your Highness,” Joey mused, shamelessly grinning at me. “May I have this dance?”

For a brief moment, the worry of what I was getting myself into vanished. It was short-lived as I gave him a sharp look then glanced over to Andrew.

Elliot met my eyes instead and I panicked, shooting my gaze forward again.

“Go on, Isabella,” Elliot encouraged. “Dance with your people. You’ve done enough sitting.”

What are you doing? I tried to mouth once my back was turned to the King.

Joey cocked his head. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m nowhere near as skilled as you are in the traditional dances of our country.”

“Joey,” I hissed, reluctantly letting him lead me out to the dance floor. “What are you doing?”

“You look lovely tonight, Your Highness,” Joey spoke formally, the grin wiped from his face.

I wanted to bury myself in a hole as people moved apart to give me a wide opening towards the circle of dancers gathered in the centre.