Ella Enchanted - By Gail Carson Levine Page 0,61

marble pillars marched to the end of the hall. I tried not to gape. Soon I'd be counting windows.

"Mistress..." A young squire offered me a glass of wine. It was delightful not to be a servant. "The prince is greeting his guests. There is the queue." He waved at a file of courtiers, mostly women, that wound from the huge double doors to the prince, a small figure at the far reach of the hall. Most of the women had already unmasked, so Char would be sure to see their lovely eyes or classical noses.

The squire added, "They're each scheming to make the prince propose marriage on the spot" He bowed. "Dance with me, Lady. The line will wait."

An order. A group of musicians played near the prince, and perhaps a dozen guests danced.

"With pleasure," I said, pitching my voice a tone lower than usual.

My eyes kept straying from my partner. Char smiled at each guest, bowed, nodded, spoke. Once he laughed. Making him laugh had been my domain. The damsel who caused the laughter was of middle height, slender, with blond, wavy hair cascading to her waist. She had removed her mask, but her back was turned, so I couldn't see her face.

Hattie and Olive and Mum Olga weren't in line. They were probably off eating somewhere, but Hattie would certainly return soon. She wouldn't leave a room for long while Char occupied it.

My dance ended as the clock struck the quarter before ten.

"Thank you," I said.

"No squire can hold a lady's attention tonight." He left me.

Just over two hours remained. I retired to a chair at the edge of the hall, as close to Char as I dared.

Three gentlemen asked me to dance, but I declined each invitation. I became simply a pair of eyes, staring through my mask at Char. I needed no ears because I was too far off to hear his voice, no words because I was too distant for speech, and no thoughts -- those I saved for later.

He bent his head. I loved the hairs on the nape of his neck. He moved his lips. I admired their changing shape. He clasped a hand. I blessed his fingers.

Once, the power of my gaze drew his eyes. I looked away quickly and noticed Hattie, hovering a few feet beyond the line, her lips clenched in a fawning smile.

He spoke to the last guest. Last but one. My resolution to be unseen gave way.

The last in line would be me. I rose and hurried to reach him before Hattie could pounce.

I curtsied. He bowed. When we both straightened, I found I had grown closer to his height.

"What is your name, Lady?" He smiled politely.

I found my voice with difficulty. "Lela."

We were silent.

"Do you live here in Frell, Lady Lela?"

"In Bast, Highness." I named a town near the elves' Forest.

He looked past me, ready to move on. "I hope you enjoy the ball and your stay in Frell."

I couldn't let him go. "Abensa ohudo. Isseni imi essete urebu amouffa." I spoke with a heavy Kyrrian accent.

"You speak Ayorthaian!" His attention was captured.

"Not well. My uncle was born there. He's a singer. His voice can charm wood."

Char's smile was genuine now. "I miss their songs. I was glad to leave, but now I miss everything."

I hummed a stanza of Areida's favorite song, a sad one, about a farmer whose family is starving. Char joined me, singing softly. Near us, heads turned. I saw Hattie frown with her smile still frozen in place.

When we finished, he bowed again. "Would you favor me with a dance?"

Over all the others I was his choice! I curtsied, and he took my hand.

Our hands knew each other. Char looked at me, startled. "Have we met before, Lady?"

"I've never left Bast, but I've longed to see Frell my whole life."

He nodded.

The clock struck eleven.

The dance was a gavotte, too spirited for talk. Rapid movement was a relief in the midst of so much feeling. We flew through the hall, perfectly in step. Char smiled at me. I smiled back, happy.

We separated. I twined arms with a succession of momentary partners -- dukes, earls, knights, squires -- and back to Char. A final whirl, and the dance ended.

"I love a gavotte," I said, touching to make sure my mask was still properly in place. "The rush, the sweep, the whoosh!" What nonsense was I talking?

"It's the same with stair rails, the same feeling," he said. "Do you like to slide?"

His voice was eager.

Stair rails!