So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,66

Grand Duke’s direction.

“He’s searching for you,” Cinderella murmured, stating the obvious, still not understanding. “He doesn’t look happy.”

“See that girl behind him?”

Cinderella craned her neck to look. Yes, the same young lady with the tiara she had noticed earlier.

“I was hiding in the corner of the ballroom, trying to dodge Ferdinand’s ploys to have me dance with her. If not for his scheming, I might never have seen you again.”

Cinderella’s blush deepened. She stared at her hand, resting comfortably on the prince’s arm. “It looks like they’re waiting for you,” she said quietly.

“And I’ve been waiting for you,” replied Charles. He gestured at her mask. “A swan. It suits you.”

“I didn’t have many choices. It was either a swan or a peacock.”

The prince leaned closer, speaking softly. “Swans were my mother’s favorite birds. She used to tell me that once they fall in love, they stay in love forever.”

A fanfare pierced the ballroom’s din—and Cinderella’s thoughts. “Announcing the Princess Marie of Lourdes.”

A young man dressed like the crown prince of Aurelais bowed to greet the princess, and Cinderella whirled toward the prince, blinking back her confusion. “But you’re here.”

The prince laughed. “Pierre was kind enough to exchange clothes with me for the night. I must say, having a loyal attendant who looks like me has come in handy.” He gestured at the young man in the white mask standing stiffly beside the king’s throne as introductions were made. The princess was clearly waiting for him to ask her to dance, but Pierre stifled a yawn instead.

“He’s doing too good a job of impersonating me,” said Charles, amused.

Dozens of ladies surrounded the fake prince, and even from the outskirts of the ballroom, Cinderella could hear them crying, “Your Highness! Do you remember me?”

“Poor Pierre.”

“I think he rather enjoys it,” said Charles wryly. “Anyway, I’ll make it up to him. For now, let’s take advantage of our disguises, shall we? Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

She touched her mask nervously. Hundreds of guests filled the ballroom, their faces blurred by candlelight. Cinderella scanned the crowd for her stepmother and stepsisters, but she couldn’t find them.

Stop worrying, she told herself. Enjoy the moment.

“You aren’t still worried that you’ve forgotten how to dance, are you?” Charles smiled. “I know for a fact you haven’t.”

Cinderella blushed, surprised he had remembered their conversation from the first ball. Still, the joke relaxed her, and she smiled back at him. “No, I’m not.”

Then she took his arm, letting a whirlwind of excitement sweep over her as they began to dance.

Was she imagining it, or had the music suddenly gotten more lush and romantic? The violins seemed to swoon with her every step, or maybe she was simply happy. Happy to have found Charles again, to have this second chance with him.

She wanted to get to know him. It had become apparent that she hardly knew anything about him other than what everyone knew about the prince: that every morning he rode his horse across the palace grounds, that he had been close to his mother, that he didn’t enjoy attending royal balls.

But where to start? Their conversation now certainly wasn’t stilted, but she was forcing herself to be polite and on her best behavior. Was it because he was the prince, and now she couldn’t help being more nervous and thus more ceremonious than before?

“What’s on your mind?”

He sounded tentative, as if he were worried she’d run off again.

She smiled shyly at him, becoming all too aware of how her heart skipped when their eyes met. It was like they were meeting for the first time. The night could stretch as long as it needed to this time; Cinderella did not have to be back by midnight. She had no magic spell to worry about, and knowing her stepmother and stepsisters, they were too busy fawning over and following the imposter prince.

And yet . . . there were hundreds of people in the ballroom. The music swam in her ears, the murmurs of other dancing couples buzzing. Over the prince’s shoulder, she finally spied Louisa waving at her from the edge of the floor. Her friend had found her own dance partner, and she winked at Cinderella, mouthing, Who is he?

Flustered, Cinderella pretended not to understand, and she turned to the prince. “Could we . . . could we walk through the gardens again?” she asked. “It was so lovely the last time.”

“I rather enjoyed the walk myself,” said the prince. “It’ll be good to