The trees cry out,

Brushing away her hair,

he beckons tenderly,

She blinks ignorance,

and the gesture is lost,

Breathing one last note,

he dolefully fades away,

recoiling his faceless devotion.

Gold leaf twirled and twisted along the ceiling and upper walls of the ballroom, and fresh orchids sat in bright red and gold vases on silver pedestals. The ceiling came together in the middle of the room, stretching upwards into a dome of glass. The floor was made of small mosaic tiles that formed an image of the sun on one side and the moon on the other. The lively space buzzed with chatter, filled with elaborately dressed people in gaudy costumes.

Madeleine found herself in a nearby mirror against the wall, gazing silently. She wore half her hair up and under a gable hood while the rest trailed down her back in ringlets. The hood was lined with silver and sapphire stones that matched the blue in her tightly fitted dress. Her sleeves were split, revealing silver fabric beneath, and large peacock feathers were sewn into the skirt.

“You look wonderful, Madi.”

She jumped a little as her mother’s image appeared next to her in the mirror. “T-thank you, Queen Nicole. Courtney has a good eye.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you two get along so well. I remember when you felt like you didn’t have a friend in all of Elderian.”

Before she could respond, King Abel came to stand beside the queen, his hand lightly touching her lower back. “Nicole,” he cooed, his pale cheeks slightly flushed. The faint scent of wine hung on him. “Would you care to join me for a dance? I’m growing tired of Vauquelin’s voice in my ear.”

“Vauquelin, huh?” She grinned and his eyes seemed to twinkle in reply. “That man could talk anyone’s ear off, even His Majesty’s.”

A waiter came by with a tray of drinks and the king grabbed two of them, handing one to his wife. “You’re quite right, My Dear. The man you married does quite a bit of talking and might I say that while I always have a lot to say, when you speak, Nicole, it is more profound than the brightness of the sun.”

Madeleine made a strangled noise in the back of her throat.

The queen smiled gently and took the king’s arm, leading him away from their daughter. “King Abel, you’re the only man I know who can be as stiff and awkward as your father, but as smooth and confident as Prince Antoine after a few drinks.”

“Fret not, my queen.” He raised his head proudly. “I am quite sober enough to dance with my wife and pay her all the compliments she deserves before the night is through.”

Madeleine barely heard her mother responding softly, “Let’s dance then, Dear,” before they took to the dance floor.

She stood there for a moment, staring after them in shock, then took her own glass of wine.

That’s when Count Alexandre approached her. “Princess Madeleine.” He bowed respectfully. “I hope you’re doing well.”

She looked into his kind face, her spirits lifting. “I am indeed. Are you enjoying the ball, Count Alexandre?”

He nodded. “I’ve been especially enjoying the sweets table.” He gestured to a section of the ballroom with a large fountain that was pouring out red wine, surrounded by tables covered in desserts.

She immediately noticed Bryson, Duke Adam, Duke Bourgeois, Adrian, and Antoine all talking around a round table; tense expressions on all their faces.

“It looks like many of the council members are enjoying themselves,” she commented, wondering what they were talking so seriously about.

He rolled his eyes at that. “Oh, those three are always having casual meetups whenever they can, that is, your brother, Duke Adam, and Duke Bourgeois.”

“I didn’t realize the council would meet during such an occasion.”

“It’s not an official meeting. It’s more of an elitist group they’ve created that only those they deem worthy may join.”

“I see.” Madeleine tried not to sound put out that she was not part of this group, even if it consisted of some of her least favorite council members.

“You’re not missing anything, trust me.” He gave a comforting smile. “Those three think very highly of themselves, but they’re always the reason the meetings go late and we never get anything done.”

She laughed. “You have that right. I’ve never attended a meeting that did not go past the time. I do wish they thought better of me, though.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Even in your inexperience, you are a more insightful member.”

She blinked in surprise. “You really think so?”

“I do.”

She paused, thinking. “May I ask why you are so kind to me, Count? You could easily write me off as a foolish young girl like many of the others do.”

He smiled. “I have six daughters living in Andveltica, and no sons. I was humbled early on in my life, learning that I could be as proud of daughters as any son. Some of the other members think you are weak, but I have seen nothing but strength from you.”

A warm grin spread over her face. “Thank you. I feel comforted having another friend on the council whom I can trust.”

He bowed. “You and Antoine are quite close. He is very insightful as well. The youth these days often are I’ve noticed. I am optimistic for Elderian’s future.” She blinked, then nodded kindly. “I won’t bother you any further then, Your Highness. If you’ll excuse me.” The count walked away, and she was left feeling a bit lighter.

The princess made her way to the table with sweets and found a fruit tart. She put it in her mouth, holding it there contently before chewing, all while humming a faint tune. She glanced around the room, taking in the sea of colors.

After a while, she spotted Antoine in the corner again, holding a drink in his hand, standing beside Adrian and the council members.

He wore a blue soft bonnet with a silver feather sticking out of it and a matching blue doublet with split sleeves. His tunic fit tightly around his slim waist, and he stood with one hand on his hip, a bored expression on his face. They were all still deep in conversation, except Antoine, whose eyes suddenly flicked up to meet hers.

Something about his gaze forced her to blink away for a moment. He motioned for her to come, and she nodded in gratitude. Finishing the tart, she strode over to him, feeling slightly self-conscious.

He took both of her hands and touched them to his forehead. “You’re radiant as ever, Madi.”

“As are you, esteemed Prince Antoine, Champion of Nebrasia.”

The serious look on his face broke into a huge smile. He pointed at both of their outfits, his face unbelieving. “How do we keep wearing the same color?”

She eyed him very seriously. “You haven’t been discussing my wardrobe with my ladies-in-waiting, have you?”

“Yes, M’lady.” He folded his arms playfully. “I’ve gone out of my way to be your doppelganger.”

“I’d think that’s true, save the peacock feathers.” She pointed to the big adornments on her skirt.

“I already took that into account and I’m afraid peacock feathers are just not my look.”

She laughed, and Adrian looked over at her, seeming to notice her for the first time. Her heart skipped a beat when he stepped away from the group of men to approach her and Antoine.

“Good evening, Madi,” he said gently, greeting her formally. The king’s outfit was similar to Antoine’s, but all his colors were gold and red, making his light hair stand out. Large, sparkling golden sleeves hid red velvet that peeked underneath through slits, and a golden necklace with large square rubies draped over his shoulders.

“G-good evening,” she said shyly.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The other council members watched her for a second before continuing to talk amongst themselves, and she felt smug for being the cause of the king leaving the group.

“Oh Adi, always butting into conversations.” Antoine’s playful expression had changed, his arms now folded impatiently.

Adrian shot the prince a look but kept his attention on Madeleine. “Those are peacock feathers, aren’t they?”

“Why yes,” Madeleine said cheerfully. “Tony and I were just talking about them. Peacocks are native to Andveltica.”

“I suppose they would be, since Andveltica is all rainforests.”

“Oh Madi,” Antoine said dramatically. “How ever do you stand the heat and humidity there?” His face was solemn, and she bit back a grin. “I can’t imagine how you survive the summers.”

“Oh, sometimes it is too much to bear, but we Andvelticans have our secrets to survival.” She winked.

“Andvelticans adapted clothing styles and fabrics from Venwick, if I recall correctly,” Adrian said.

“That’s right,” she commended, gazing into his face. “The climate in Venwick is brutally hot as well, and light silks and thin fabrics breathe instead of trapping heat. Andvelticans took these materials and since have been improving and adapting them. I am a living product of those advancements.” She held her arms out and did a small triumphant spin.

“That is very impressive,” Adrian said, and she realized they’d both gotten a hint closer since now she could count his nose freckles. “I’ll remember my alliance with Andveltica the next time I can’t bear the heat here.”

“I’m sure that’s the only reason you would remember your alliance with them,” Antoine murmured gruffly, glancing between them.

“Have you been enjoying the ball?” she asked, tucking a stray piece of hair into her hood. “Considering you are the one who brought it to fruition, I feel it is required for you to say, yes.”

He chuckled, and the sound of it brought color to her cheeks. “I am enjoying myself, yes, especially now that you are here.”

She opened then closed her mouth, finding herself at a temporary loss for words. “Adrian,” she finally asked, thinking now must be the right moment, “would you do me the honor of—” but she was interrupted by Yvette who appeared as if from nowhere to stand by Adrian’s side with Amabel following behind her.

“Hope you’re not all enjoying yourselves without me!” Yvette said, her voice proud as ever. “Doesn’t it all just look so beautiful?” Her long, blonde hair was tucked away into a large, ornate bun with small jewels pinned into it, and she wore a slimming white gown with the same bright gems embroidered on the bodice.

Amabel came to stand on Antoine’s left, wearing a red and gold gown with her black hair braided all around her head. She had ornate, frilled sleeves, and a golden Medici collar that seemed to perfectly frame her thin, elegant jawline.

“We were discussing how Madi survives in the humid weather of Andveltica,” Adrian said. “It’s quite astonishing the technology they have.”

Yvette looked her up and down. “It is remarkable that someone so well bred came from the tropics. I’m impressed. I wonder how your father even met your mother when Andveltica is so far removed.”

Madeleine frowned. “My father is Andveltican. Otherwise, why would we all live in Andveltica if he was not himself Andveltican? As everyone knows, only female royals leave their homelands when married.”

A tint of red crossed her face. “Of course, I know that.” She laughed as if to shrug it off. “Your father does not look Andveltican, is all.”

Behind Yvette, Amabel made a face. “Dear sister, if you talk less, you will be more agreeable.”

Yvette rolled her eyes. “Amabel, please. Why would I know about things in Andveltica anyway? In Cappeland, the royals have always married within the bloodline to keep the family name.”

“You mean to keep the family skin color,” she retorted.

“Pfft! There are of course some exceptions in Cappeland, so not everyone is of that descent, as you can tell from my half-sister.”

Amabel sighed. “Yes, it is most unfortunate. If only I were like my half-siblings, then Queen Adele would not hate me so.”

Madeleine could tell she was being sarcastic, but Yvette clearly did not.

“She does not hate you for that. She hates that Father had that affair all those years ago with one of the maids and had you.”

Again, these harsh words did not seem to sway Amabel as she only held her head higher. “I suspect several reasons contribute to her feelings towards me.”

Yvette exhaled quickly. “Anyway, I was trying to have a conversation with King Adrian before you began telling everyone your life story, Amabel. Shouldn’t you be clinging onto Courtney? Where is the sickly girl anyway? You spent all day with her yesterday at the tournament and would not stop talking about it.”

“Courtney was still getting ready when I left,” Madeleine interjected. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

Amabel gave a polite nod. “Thank you for letting me know, Madeleine, or…can I call you, Madi?”

“My friends call me Madi so I don’t see why you cannot.”

She smiled in response.

“Well, here she is now,” Antoine exclaimed.

Everyone turned as Courtney strode up to them wearing a deep purple gown with white petticoats that peeked from underneath. The white ruffs that wound around her neck and wrists had gold embroidery that matched the stunning gold earrings and necklace that brought out a glow in her bronze skin.

“Good evening,” she said softly.

“Courtney, it’s so good to see you.” Madeleine gave her a kiss on both cheeks.

“Madi was just telling us you were taking a little time getting ready,” Antoine said.

Amabel looked her up and down. “It was worth the wait.”

Courtney's face broke into a huge smile when she saw the bastard princess. “Oh, Amabel! I still can’t believe how close the tournament was. I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. The jousting was just so wonderful, wasn’t it?”

“Here we go,” Yvette complained.

Amabel ignored her sister, matching Courtney’s energy with equal fervor. “When Sir Albert shattered his lance, I thought he was done for.”

“Sir Albert?” Madeleine said. “Isn’t that also the name of your fiancé, Courtney? Or was it, Jean?”

Courtney’s smile vanished. “Prince Albert is my fiancé’s name, yes.” She looked more distant now. “It’s an arranged marriage though and I’ve never met him. Mother and Father would have let me choose, but I’ve always been very slow with the whole pursuing or caring-about-courtship process.”

Amabel laughed. “You care about much more important things, Courtney, like reading or in this case, jousting.”

“Please,” Yvette groaned. “No more jousting.”

“King Adrian, if I may,” Duke Bourgeois interrupted, and everyone was silent as they all looked at the ancient man who had stepped into the circle they’d formed. He gestured to a more private table in the corner that was unoccupied.

Everyone watched the duke as he leaned in to whisper in Adrian’s ear, his voice not so inconspicuous. “We’d like to continue discussing with you Cappeland’s military capabilities, and what more Cappeland may have to offer Nebrasia.”

Adrian glanced at Madeleine, giving an exasperated look. “Yes, of course, Duke Bourgeois.”

He was led away, and Yvette followed after him. Madeleine’s heart sank as she watched him walk away, her chances of asking him to dance diminishing.

She could overhear the king explaining to Yvette that she could not join him at this private meeting. As she watched them, Antoine touched her arm gently. “Madi.”

She jumped a little at his voice. “Yes, Tony?” She turned to see that his hand was extended towards her.

“May I have this dance?”

Behind Antoine’s head, Courtney gave her a wide-eyed look. Madeleine blinked at him curiously, taking in his serious face. She simply smiled and placed her hand in his, struck mute by the sudden proposition. She did not look back as he led her to the main room where other couples were lining up to dance.

When they had reached the large space, Madeleine noticed a group of musicians seated at one end of the room, tuning their instruments to prepare for the next song. Antoine turned her towards him a little too quickly and she stumbled over his toe.

“Oops!” He held her fast in his arms to keep her from falling, and she stared, his face inches from hers.

She had forgotten they were more or less the same height, and his mouth seemed so close then; only a breath away really. “I do believe that was your fault, Tony.”

His cheeks were slightly pink. “M-my apologies.” He loosened his hold on her as she stood up straight. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.

The bashfulness confused her. “Tony, are you feeling quite alright? You seem a little sweatier than usual.” She reached up and poked his cheek.

“Hey!” He swiped at her hand playfully, the moment of uncertainty vanishing. “You can’t just touch my face whenever you please!” She laughed and went to do it again, but this time he grabbed it gently. “The dance is starting,” he whispered, and the serious look returned to his face.

The mood changed as the song began, his eyes never leaving hers. Her hand slipped out of his as they changed partners, and she glanced over at him. He gave a polite nod to his new partner, his face kind. They turned once and the prince’s hand found hers again as they walked forward behind another couple.

He gently squeezed her fingers, and she could not help but smile at him as she subconsciously rubbed his thumb with her own. They split again and she caught her mother’s eye in the corner of the room.

The queen was sharing another drink with her husband who was talking lively with another man. A smile played at the corner of the queen’s mouth as she raised her glass to Madeleine. The princess just stared back with a blank face, something in her gut twisting, and soon she was breathing in Antoine’s scent again, his curled hair covering a small portion of his face. His green eyes searched her face and she considered them for a moment before glancing away.

She barely noticed how long they’d danced for when the music came to a halt. It’s over already?

Antoine’s face was flushed as he led her over to a bench near one of the bright vases.

Madeleine plopped down on the golden cushion. “Now you really do look all sweaty,” she teased as he sat down beside her. He chuckled, putting his hands behind him to lean back, not noticing that he’d placed one of them over hers. “Er, Tony…”

He looked down, his face suddenly turning redder than ever. “Oh, my,” he gasped, pulling his hand away dramatically. “A thousand apologies, M’lady Princess.”

They burst out laughing, but quickly became silent. They watched as other couples formed for the next dance.

“Madi.” She turned her head towards him. “I’ve enjoyed our time together since you came here. You’re like the sister that I never had and also my best friend a-and—” He stopped, and they stared at each other.

“I feel that way too, Tony, except not like a sister, more like a brother.”

He grinned. “That’s very kind of you to say.” He blew a curl out of his face.

“Tony, your hair has gotten quite out of control.”

He glanced at his forehead, blowing the brown coils again. “You know, many suitors have told me I have dashing curls.”

“Dashing, but not very practical.” She found herself reaching out and brushing the rest of the hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. He gaped at her, those green eyes searching her face, and she drew back her hand quickly. “S-sorry,” she mumbled, looking away.

He didn’t say anything, so she glanced back, meeting a smug look. “You know, Madi,” he poked her cheek the way she had done to him earlier, “if you wanted to touch the royal curls, you needed only to ask.”

She swatted his hand away. “Pfft, I have royal curls of my own, you know. Why would I need to touch yours?”

“I don’t know, but you did.” Those emerald eyes seemed to bore into her own. “Madi.” She could barely hear her name slip from his lips again.

“Yes, Tony?”

He met her gaze, then glanced down quickly. “I…” She watched him curiously as rouge spread to his ears. “I-I wanted to tell you something.”