The Knight Of The Rose (35 page)

musical, glass dome. When I opened them again, fairy lights twinkled from the tall white trunks of

leafless trees, and soft music filled my ears as sound suddenly enhanced my world again.

An almost magical glow seemed to surround everything. The majestic old council chamber

sat tall as the backdrop to the dim, candle- lit space, and masked dancer s twirled around the floor

with hypnotic cadence; sweeping and bowing to the harmony of a string quartet.

Mike and I stood at the cusp of the wooden dance floor, surrounded by the beauties, but my

eyes delighted only in the canopy of stars observing the Masquerade from the kingdom above.

“Do you recognise anyone?” Mike asked.

“Nope. If you weren’t beside me, I wouldn’t recognise you, either.”

I felt kind of lost, like I was alone in the crowded space. The dance floor, the stairs leading

up to the balcony off the council chamber, and even i ts marble railing was filled with people—

masked strangers—just like me, but for all I felt in my soul, the court could’ve been completel y

empty.

“Would you like some refreshments before we dance?” Mike gestured toward the balcony.

“I’m fine.” I tucked my arms into my chest.

I wonder if David’s here—watching.

“Would you like to dance?” Mike bowed, offering his hand.

First rule of a dance is never to refuse a dance
, I remembered my dad telling Sam when he

went to his first social.

With a curtsy and a nod, I obliged Mike, and with one step over the threshold of the dance

floor, he swept me into his safe, strong arms, and we joined the flow of dancers like a rose petal on

the breeze; never missing a beat. I followed each step of Mike’s wide stride, closing the movement

with a short, gliding turn, making patterns like circles around the room.

“When did you learn to dance like this?” I asked, very impressed.

“Well, a guy’s gotta know a few tricks if he’s gonna get the girl.” He smiled, and his sharply

curved grin pressed into his cheeks; a small flutter started my heart. He’s my Zorro again.

“I like this new you,” I said, turning my head in the direction our hands led us.

“Good, because this is the me you’ll be marrying.”

The music faded out and the room came to a standstill; Mike kissed my hand and bowed

while the rest of the crowd softly applauded the musicians.

“Can we go find Em and the others, now?” I asked.

“Of course, Ara—this is your night. We can do whatever you want.” He looked over his

shoulder. “Come on, we’ll go to the balcony—it’ll be easier to see from up there.”

As we passed through the crowd, they parted fo r us, turning their heads; I leaned clo ser to

Mike and whispered, “What are they staring at?”

“You,” he said factually.

“Why? Is my bra showing?” I quickly tucked my thumb around the rim of my dress.

“No, baby.” He laughed and pushed my hand down. “It’s just because, of all the beauty here

tonight, you’re the brightest thing in the room.”

Shrinking into myself, I glanced at the other costumes; pale grey, coffee, burgundy, black—

no blue. I was the only girl in a colour so bright. “Great. I feel like a wasp at a bumblebee

convention.”

Mike laughed. “Well, you look like the flower.”

“Erg.” I rolled my eyes; he’s so corny.

We stopped by the balcony rai ling and looked down to the room full of dancers , swirling

under a blanket of stars.

“Wow, it’s so much prettier from up here.” I felt like a god between worlds.

The clock on the tower chimed nine, and a giggling couple ran past, startling me with the

sudden noise. I watched them trip down the stairwell behind us and disappear under the darkness of

the tall trees and wide planes of grass on the other side.

“Sam says that’s a make-out spot.” Mike laughed, jerking his head in their direction.

“Yeah, that’s the chamber gardens—really pretty in the day,” I noted.

“Hm.” He nodded and leaned his f orearms on the railing beside me. “Right now it’s just

pretty dark.”

“Yeah, they’re not supposed to be down there.”

“Do you think your friends might be?”

I shook my head and sighed. If David were here, that’s where
we’d
be.

“You’re missing him...aren’t you?” Mike asked in a sympathetic tone, his eyes narrowing.

The cool night ai r brushed acr oss my collar bones—making bumps rise over my chest. I

drew a breath and looked away from him; there was no point in lying.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at his clasped hands.

“Mike?” I started, “I—”

“Hey, there you are.” Befor e I even spun around, Emily wrapped her arms around my neck

and squeezed. I gave Spencer, who st ood awkwardly in t he dust cloud of Emily’s enthusiasm, a

short wave. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you guys.”

“Yeah, sorry.” I stood back from her and swiped my hair from my face. “But we’re here

now. And look at you—” Em ily twirled around to show her long blonde ponytail, in a spiral down

her back, and the perfect fit of the dress; Mike cleared his throat beside me. “How did you do this.”

I ran my fingers down her ponytail.

“Oh, I—” She stopped and looked beside us when Mike and Spencer s hook hands. “Oh

yeah, sorry guys.” She ducked her head a little. “Um, Mike—Spence, Spence—Mike.”

“Nice to meet you.” Mike grinned.

“So, you’re Ara’s fiancé?” Spence looked at me for confirmation.

“The one and only,” I said; Mike grinned as I linked my arm in his. He liked that. I coul d

tell. And I liked that he liked it, too. “So, Spencer? You scrub up nice,” I added.

“Yeah, thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, Ar a.” He appraised my gown—not in a creepy

way, but I think he was just as shocked as I was that it was actually me under all the sparkles.

“Where’s Alana?” I asked.

“Haven’t seen her.” Emily shrugged.

We looked over the crowd of dancers for a moment. Each one was hidden beneath a mask of

feathers or sequins, their hair drawn up in dazzling ri

nglets or left down to fl ow over their

shoulders. It seemed a futile attempt to find a person among them. Then I spotted a girl at the centre

of the dance floor, with a tall, sandy-blonde-haired boy. Her cream and black dress with pin k

accents of lace took my breath away, and I remembered Alana’s description of her hand-me-down.

Mike looked over my shoulder, following my gaze. “Wow. That’s quite a dress,” he said.

“Oh, wow.” Emily sighed, leaning against the railing beside me.

“And Ryan looks so…vintage,” I added.

“They make a good couple,” Mike noted.

“Yeah. I’m a good matchmaker.” Em ily grinned, hiding her pier cing Mike-directed gaze of

abhorrence under her mask.

Hm, maybe she
does
hate him.

“Well, Miss Ara.” Spencer stood taller and bowed to me. “I believe you owe me a dance.”

He extended his arm; Emily smiled at me with a nod of approval.

“Very well, Mr. Griffin. It would be my pleasure.” I us ed a for mal English accent, then

followed Spencer to the dance floor.

Mike walked behind us with Emily on his arm.

I laughed quietly to myself. She’ll have to dance with him. I know she’s going to
hate
every

minute of it, but I also know she’ll be okay with him one day—she just needs to give him a chance.

We danced, and the flow and magic of the masquerade concealed my pain and emptiness for

just a while. Passed from arm to arm, I danced with nearly every guy attending the ball, and when I

finally fell back into Mike’s embrace as the first stroke of midnight chimed through the air, my head

swirled like a room full of butterflies.

The enchanting tone of the evening burst into a spectrum of colour above us when blue and

pink electrified the skies—dissipating into yellows and whites as they dissolved among the stars.

Everyone stood stil l, tilting their faces upward while the clock chimed each agonising toll of

realisation.

Midnight.

The music played on, saddening my heart with its desultory notes. All the beauties around us

smiled, gasping in awe at the colours of the end. But my heart was fighting to ignore the sombre

melody of loss and separation that humoured the ignorant crowd.

He’s not coming. David’s really not coming.

Mike pulled me cl ose, pressing his fingers firmly between my shoulder blades so my body

moulded to his. “I love you, Ara-Rose. You know that—don’t you?” he whispered.

Wiping the tear s from my lips and cheeks, I looked up at his face as the last chime of

midnight passed; I do know he loves me—it’s in the way he looks at me, t he kind of stare that

makes me want to cry. “Kiss me,” I breathed softly instead.

The fireworks cracked loudly—echoing off the horizon—but the noise, along with the soft

gasps and giggles of girls, faded into the background when his lips touched mine. The room twirled

again as the dancers moved around us, t aking step to the rhythm of a sound I could no longer hear.

Safe in his arms, in the middle of the dance floor, there was nothing but Mike and I—no one else in

the world.

His lips broke away from the kiss with a cool wash of air as he looked over his shoulder.

“May I?” a gentle voice asked, and a boy stepped into view; tall, but not as tall as Mike, with

soft brown hair—his face hidden behind a black mask, but instantly recognisable.

David?

When the boy took my hand, my heart dropped into my stomach; it’s not him. David’s

hands were never this cold—and these took mine with no familiarity.

The stranger pulled me close—closer than polite. I studied his eyes through the mask. Green

eyes—not quite emerald like David’s were, yet so much alike.

“You look lovely tonight, Ara,” he said in a smooth, gentle voice.

“Do I know you?” I squinted against the darkne ss of the softly lit danc e floor, tracing the

strong, square line of his jaw with my eyes.

He shook his head once, and said nothing more.

The harmonies of the song carried the pace of his gracefulness as he held one hand gently

under my shoulder blade, with the other extending our arms out widely.

“You’ve danced bef ore,” I said, but my voice, the ve ry idea of speaking came from

somewhere else within me. I felt lost—in a dream-like state.

The boy nodded, his smile showing only by the dimple beside the curve of his lip.

A strange sensation saturated the air around me then, a feeling like ener gy in the form of a

warm, liquid light. I looked around my hips and arms as the light encircled us—but no one else.

From the sideline, Mike stood watching with his arms folded, leaning in to talk to Alana and

Ryan every few seconds. I wondered if he could see the light, or if he could see the way this boy

held me—if he found it odd that he pull ed me close—li ke he’d held me there a t housand times

before.

“What’s your name?” I tried, being that every question so far had gone unanswered.

He turned his head an inch and looked down at me; his mysterious eyes held a depth of

darkness to them that made me feel suddenly very uneasy. I looked at Mike again—having a thumb

war with Spencer—and my heart hurried a little. I wanted him to come—to t ap this boy on the

shoulder and ask for me back—hold me safe in his arms.

When I squirmed a little in the boy’s grip, he squeezed my hand gently, tightening his hold

on my back. “Our dance is not yet complete, my lady.” His voice came through his lips with a

smile, but all the contempt in the world trickled out from behind his eyes. “It would be incredibl y

bad manners to leave a man i n the middle of the dance floor. You wouldn’t want to be rude, would

you?” With wide eyes and each breath carefully planned, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t

mean to be rude.”
What are you saying?
I screamed at myself internally.
Get away from him, Ara.

But I stayed in his arms, an d we glided around the floor once more; the boy smiled at each

person we passed, and my lips did the same, though it felt unnatural—like I had no control.

The stranger watched my face as I stared curiously back at him. His eyes were so green, so

like David’s that if he leaned closer, I’d have let our lips touch—just for a second.

When the music ended, he stopped and clapped gently. “Thank you, my lady.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, but took no haste to move away fr om him. I stood staring up at

him like a stuffed animal. “Please tell me who you are.”

Another song began. He bowed low, holding his arm across his body. “Care for another

dance first?”

“I—” I swallowed, shaking my head as a name came to mind. “Jason?”

“Tres bien, madame.” He s tood taller and his lip creased in one corner, leaving the smile t o

come from behind his eyes—the way David smiled when he read my mind.

“Do you read minds, too?” I asked.

He took a breath and offered his arm; “Walk with me?”

Reluctantly, I cupped my hand agai nst the crease of his elbow and let him l ead me away

from the dance floor. We pass ed right by Mike and my friends, who didn’t even look up as this

stranger and I walked onto the ba lcony. “It’s a beautiful night, w ouldn’t you agree?” he sai d, not

really to me, but more
at
me.