Into the Wild(52)

The lords and ladies began to whisper: “Beautiful.” “Exquisite.” “Who is she?” “Princess.” The words rose up to the balcony, and she felt herself start to smile. Instinctively, as if the whispers were a command, she laid her hand on the stair railing. The ivory stairs curved down to an inlaid marble floor. Slowly, just like a princess, she descended the grand spiral staircase. The lords and ladies watched her. Someone sighed adoringly. She straightened her posture. All those eyes, all on her! She felt as if she were floating.

At the bottom of the stairs, the lords and ladies pressed toward her. One tentatively reached out and touched her feather dress. “Ooh,” the lady said, and the circle tightened. Shoulder to shoulder, they stared at her. Princess started to feel uneasy. It was nice and flattering, but now they were a little close . . . A lion began to growl as the trumpet soloist faltered.

Red Sea-like, the lords and ladies parted. A sandy-haired boy wearing a crown and ballet tights strode between them. In front of Princess, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “Would you do me the honor of granting me this dance?”

Before she could answer, the prince took her hand. He led her to the center of the floor, and the lords and ladies parted into a wide arc. The trumpet music resumed, and lions pranced around them. She thought she saw a unicorn.

“You dance like an angel,” he said, and took a sweeping step to the left. Her dress caught around her ankles, and she wobbled on the glass slippers. Feathers stabbed into her waist as she stumbled. He held her upright and swept her across the dance floor. All the other dancers clapped in odd unison.

The prince whispered in her ear, “You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.” His breath was warm on her cheek. She felt herself flush. A prince thought she was beautiful. Of course he did. She had seen herself: she was the beautiful princess.





Chapter Twenty-three

The Princess Test

The trumpet stopped suddenly.

Mid-step, the prince stumbled. Princess looked around, confused, as spinning dancers slowed like a dying music box. Around her, the lions and bears snarled and growled. She wondered if she should be alarmed.

“I found you!” a voice rang out across the ballroom. Princess saw the trumpet player—a girl—wave. She seemed to be waving at Princess. Or perhaps at the prince. The prince put his arm protectively around Princess.

The trumpet player lifted her trumpet to her lips and played a flourish, and the lions, trolls, and bears began to dance again. Laughing, the lords and ladies swirled, and the trumpet player walked through them. “Knew if I played”—she trilled notes—“long enough”—more notes—“it would draw you.”

In a wave, a stream of rats flowed after the musician. In their wake came a flood of laughing, dancing children. The prince began to draw Princess backward, away from the odd procession.

“Did you find”—the trumpet girl played another set of notes, then finished the sentence—“your mom?” More notes. “Do you know how to stop the Wild?”

Princess frowned.

“I want”—more notes—“to go home.” Flourish of notes up the scale and down. She took a breath. “I’ve had enough adventure.”

Home? Mom? Adventure? Wild? Princess felt as if small fireworks were popping inside her head with each word. And with each pop came a flood of questions: who was the trumpet girl? How did she know Princess? What did she mean, adventure? What did she mean, “stop the Wild”? What was “the Wild”? What was home?

She opened her mouth to let the questions pour out, but the prince pulled her away. Quickly, the lords and ladies spun in dancing couples between them and the trumpet girl, as if attempting to deliberately part them. The river of rats and children clogged the open spaces. Princess wanted to cry: Wait! Who are you? But the prince was herding her too quickly back toward the ivory staircase.

A woman in red velvet descended the staircase.

“Mother!” the prince cried. “This is the Mysterious Princess from Unknown Lands. She is the one I love.”

Love? He loved her? It was as if the trumpet girl had released a dam. More questions tumbled into Princess’s swirling mind: How could he love her? He barely knew her. She barely knew him. She barely knew herself.

“Indeed,” said his mother, the queen. “Your brother said the same about the girl from the last midnight, and she was little more than a scullery maid with high-quality shoes, when all was said and done.” She fixed her gaze on Princess, and Princess felt like wilting. “Are you a true princess?”