The Bride Tournament (Hexed Hearts Book 1)(16)

Pierce mock-gasped and thrust a hand to his chest. “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

“Edward is your backup.”

Pierce gave Gerard two thumbs-up. “You should go bathe, dress in actual clothes, and get ready. Tonight’s going be intense.”

With that insight, Pierce strode off. Gerard found himself alone in one of the castle’s many hallways. His mind wandered to Ellie’s blue eyes. He sniffed his shirt and recoiled.

Yes, he needed to bathe.

***

“I don’t see her,” Ellie confided to Rachel as they passed each other, serving trays of champagne flutes in hand. Black frocks covered both from neck to toe, and cream bonnets secured their hair away from the food and drink.

Rachel stood on tiptoe, trying to see around the mass of perfumed plumage and bursting bustles. “She has to be here somewhere. Dame Lange moved into her quarters this morning.”

Ellie set her tray on a marbled end table, stretching her neck and tired arms. “What does she look like?”

“She always wears the color—oh goodness, I found her.” Rachel nodded to the left and Ellie peered around a tall redhead.

She took a moment to scan the crowd. Hundreds of people had squeezed into the ballroom, most being young women. All of them wore heavy repugnant scents, molding rose and musky bathwater, their hair piled atop their heads in serpent coils, and bustles on their behinds to give them more curves.

There.

It had to be Dame Lange. Short, squat, wide, and in a horrible magenta. The dress dipped low to show miles of deeply wrinkled cleavage. Ellie could make out the white powder stamped across the woman’s skin to even out her coloring.

Little gold specks of magic fluttered around the dame and the five young women at her side. The magical cloud cast the women in a soft yellow light, and she had to admit the daughters were beautiful.

They’d inherited none of their mother’s frightening looks.

Instead, each of them had dirty blonde hair in tightly spiraled buns, small curls dangling about their gold earrings. Wide eyes and pale complexions lent them an air of mystical beauty. Not quite of this kingdom. Exotic.

Ellie rubbed her cloth-covered hair. She looked like a rabbit turd in comparison. “They’re all going to try to marry the prince?”

Rachel snorted. “They wish. No, Dame Lange has her eye on the eldest. The one in the blue ribbon.”

Each of the five daughters had dressed in identical white gowns, a different colored ribbon around their tiny waists. Ellie found the oldest. She stood nearest her mother and wore a veiled look of boredom. As if she was above the rest of the crowd gathered to greet the crown prince after his stay abroad.

Ellie looked for the prince. She’d yet to lay eyes on him. Having only worked at the castle for the last four years, she’d never run into the older royal. No one here resembled royalty.

“Where’s the royal family?” she asked Rachel above the din of excited whispers from the rabble of desperate women.

“In the greeting parlor. People file through in an orderly line and he nods and bows to everyone.”

“He’s got to be bored,” Ellie replied.

Rachel smiled and picked up her tray. “I’d best make the rounds again.”

“Me too.” Ellie hefted her champagne flutes and made a circle in the ballroom, careful to keep to the shadows. No one paid her much mind, and she picked up hushed conversations.

“He’s much bigger than I remembered.”

“Did you see his brother? So attractive!”

“I’ve heard only magic nobility is allowed in the tournament.”

“Practice makes perfect. My ‘stain-removal’ and ‘invitation-decorating’ need work.”

“I wonder what tasks will be set before us in the tournament…?”

She picked her way through the crowd. Ears on the words, eyes on the women, mouth silent. The sun faded from view as the violins sounded, calling for quiet. She snuck to the back of the room, near the servant’s entrance. Rachel found her.

“The royal family is coming out.” Rachel set her tray on a side table and loosened her apron with a side-stretching sigh.

Without the cheery daylight, the ballroom sent lecherous shadows to creep along the edges of the room. Ellie peered at the people. Faces, half in darkness, leered at the dais. Jewels winked in candlelight.

Color faded. Magic filled the buzzing air. Heavy and humid, like a coming storm, the ethereal power shifted along the floor, rustled skirts and caressed legs until it reached the edges of the room.

She gaped, enraptured, as threads of gold wound their way up the walls. Little shimmering diamonds glowed with a captivating luminescence as the strings of magic vined along columns and portraits.

Hollow music reverberated in a spooky harmony, moving in time with the magical plants. Charmed night flowers burst from the golden vines. The crowd gasped in awe. Little orbs of light winked with a crystalline merriment. Enchanting and fairy-ish.

Beautiful.

The change was otherworldly. The violins reached a crescendo, and silence echoed like the after-effect of a thunder’s boom.

Jealousy beat at her heart and she flushed in shame. Her gaze caught on a golden vine, glittering near her elbow. A small flower bobbed on a nonexistent breeze. She watched it dance and weave as the king spoke.

“Good evening, Galacians. Welcome to my son’s Homecoming. We are honored by your presence.”