A Dangerous Dance [BOOK ONE]

Chapter Twelve

DECEMBER CAME AND WITH IT, MORE snow and freezing rain. The palace was always chilly, no matter what they did to keep warm.

Althea could hardly walk now, and much to her shame, she had to use a walking cane or else face the stern wrath of Jaqueline and Blythe. Her feet had gone past the point of hurting to just being numb.

Lenora had started to refuse to eat, Iris was one cross word away from breaking down in tears, and Cassidy was so exhausted that she took to sleeping during the day.

Things weren't getting any better.

And now, something even worse was happening. Many reports from other countries came pouring in, bringing horrid news that princes were being seriously harmed before they left High Marland soil. One was poisoned in a tavern, another shot by bandits, the list went on.

They were starting to refuse to come to High Marland, with rumors of witchcraft spreading more and more. The princesses of High Marland were witches, said those rumors.

Unfortunately, the truth wasn't far from the rumors.

However, Althea and her sisters kept on keeping on. So when the clock chimed ten and the maids and Lady Andrea fell into a deep, enchanted sleep, they began to make preparations.

Althea had dressed for so many balls by now that she could do it in her sleep, and very fast. Tying the strays of her corset, tightening her crinoline, buttoning up the tiny seed pearl buttons of a dress, all of it was like dancing to her. She always finished dressing first and immediately went to helping her sisters.

Iris was weepy as a stony-faced Holly buttoned up her favorite pink satin dress, Ophelia was refusing to get dressed even as Blythe pulled her dress over her head, Evelina's hands were shaking as she pinned up her hair, and Phoebe had tear stains on her red cheeks leftover from her tantrum early about putting on her dainty little dance slippers. She could only do the most basic steps, however, she knew what the dance slippers meant.

A quarter to eleven, all of the girls were ready whether or not they wanted to be. Althea looked around at the red eyes, pale faces, and pursed lips of her sisters and sighed.

"Are we ready?" It had become religious for her to ask this. More of a 'prepare yourself,' than anything else.

The girls didn't answer back. They didn't needed to. Althea saw plainly that they weren't ready, at least, not mentally. They never were.

Althea lit the oil lamp waiting at her bedside, then limped her way over to the large wardrobe that stood in the center of the wall. It was made of Elder wood and had existed long before Althea or even her mother, and was carved with a complex pattern of swirls and curlicues. One last glance behind her, then Althea traced a certain pattern of the swirls. Wherever her finger touched, the carving turned silver and began glowing.

Next to her, Blythe inhaled sharply. But it was out of fear, not awe or amazement.

Once Althea was done with the pattern, she pulled open the doors. The wardrobe was designed to fit a grown woman, therefore Althea was able to step into the darkness beyond without even stopping her head.

Beneath her foot, a sliver step appeared. In rapid succession, more steps suddenly appeared, spiraling down into the gloomy darkness. Althea began the decent, leaving Blythe to go last with Phoebe in her arms.

If anyone opened the wardrobe without tracing the pattern first, they would only open it to find Dahlia and Evelina's dresses.

It always felt like the stairs went on forever, but that was more because other than the glowing silver stairs, there was only darkness and the lone light of her lamp.