Chapter Eighteen
808 Words
Ella gasped, and it must have been louder than she had intended. Grey’s head snapped up, his eyes searching the balcony until they stopped on her. But he couldn’t know who she was behind her veil…could he? She stepped away from the railing, but it was too late. He was already walking up the staircase, his strides eating up the distance between them. The crowd hushed as he walked past, watching his every move. A sneaking suspicion grew in her mind, flowering to certainty when she noticed the undead mothers whispering behind their hands to their undead daughters, who straightened up and giggled as Grey strode past them. Ella stumbled back as he stopped in front of her.
“Milady, may I have this dance?”
“Y—you are the prince.” Ella stammered.
He grinned, and her heart melted. “That is the general consensus, yes.”
“But…”
“Are you declining to dance with me…Cinder?”
She stumbled backwards. “You recognize me?”
Grey stepped closer. “I would recognize you anywhere,” he whispered, his voice low, “so why are you wearing a veil?” His fingers teased at the edge of the lace, as though to lift it up.
“No!” Ella cried out, slapping his hand away. Three undead turned to face her, and she quickly lowered her voice. “I mean, no. I cannot…” she scrambled for an explanation Grey could accept. “Part of my cheek fell off this morning, and I feel quite self-conscious about it. I would rather keep the veil on, if you do not mind.”
“I am sure you look beautiful regardless.”
“Maybe, but why risk anyone thinking otherwise?”
He laughed. “Very well, I will not touch the veil. So, will you dance with me?”
She took his proffered hand, and let him lead her down the staircase. “Of course I will.”
Everything around her took on a sharp, crystalline feel as they walked onto the inlaid marble floor. “Wait, I cannot do this…I have never danced before.”
“It is easy. Do you trust me?”
She nodded but her heart was racing. “Everyone is staring at me.”
“They are wondering who you are.” Grey pulled Ella towards him. “Relax, just follow my lead.”
“That will be easy,” Ella muttered, “considering I do not have the slightest idea what I am supposed to do.”
“Close your eyes, Cinder. Listen to the musicians. Tonight, right now, is all that matters.”
Ella resisted the urge to sway towards him, to let her head rest against his chest. Because if he held her close enough, he would learn the truth about her, and that was unacceptable. A living woman and an undead prince? It was a match that could never happen. But her heart still fluttered and her pulse still raced at the touch of his gloved hands on hers. She failed to notice as the undead surrounded them, or the noise their ball gowns made as they swished back and forth.
“Every single girl here wishes she was you,” Grey confided as he dipped her so low the back of her veil brushed the floor.
Ella laughed. “Flatterer. They don’t even know who I am, they ‘re only jealous because I’m here, dancing with you.”
Grey stopped dancing. “Cinder.” He echoed her words back at her. “They do not even know who I am. Nor do they care. All they care about is that I am the prince. But you…you are different. You know me and you like me.”
“You’re terribly sure of yourself,” Ella replied, but she could not deny his words.
“Yes, I am. I was raised that way.” He spun her back into the midst of the dancers.
She laughed. “I was correct. You are an imp.”
“An imp that has no wish to dance with anyone but you tonight,” he whispered.
Ella blushed beneath her veil. She knew she should say something positive about the young girls littering the ballroom, but her mouth refused to shape the words. The truth of the matter was that she did not wish him to dance with anyone else, either. And so they spun across the floor, ignoring the glares of the undead mothers with their undead daughters, all wishing for what she had…a night with the prince. It lasted until Ella saw her step-mother and step-sisters, making their way across the floor toward where she and Grey danced.
- Writer
