A Grimm Curse: A Grimm Tales Novella (Volume 3) (11 page)

“Oh?” He leaned his back against the railing with a smug look. “What’s that?”

“I’m looking for a princess. Any down there?” she asked. It was a risky question, but that pretty much described her night so far.

Cynthia couldn’t help but smile at the prince’s confused face. It wasn’t the question he was expecting.

“Any one in particular?” he asked with a mystified
smile
smirk
.

“No.” She cupped her chin in her hand and tried to take in more details of the people below. “Probably not your sister though.”

“Do I get to know why you’re looking for one?”

“It’s a favor, for a friend,” Cynthia said with a cryptic smile.

“That’s a rather large request.” He stroked his chin like he was pretending to think. “I think it will cost you a dance.” He held out his hand
and raised an eyebrow
. “Care to?”

Her heart had slowed to a normal rate after her initial shock. It speed back up at Prince Wilhelm’s offer.

“Just one dance?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, just one.”

She slid her fingers into his.
He smiled at her and
With a triumphant expression, he
led her back through the curtain and down the stairs, taking the correct path to the ballroom. Her steps slowed the closer they got to the hubbub of the party, until she stopped
in
a small doorway to the main room.

Prince Wilhelm tugged on her arm. “Not afraid, are you?”

What in the world had she been thinking? Walking into a den of desperate wom
e
n on the arm of the man they were frantic to catch? Her stepfamily was in the crowd somewhere. What if they recognized her?

Cynthia’s eyes flicked to the little bag on her wrist, where poor Remi was watching and listening to every word. She tilted her chin up in a very Coriander type move. “Of course not,” she said and swept into the room.

Chapter
1
3

“I thi
nk the tights are a little much.
”

THE PRINCE HAD TIMED THEIR entrance for optimal effect. The orchestra’s last notes drew to a close, and the dancers, free of the music, turned. Under the weight of what felt like every eye in the palace Cynthia flashed back to her disastrous concert the night before and the fear she would be recognized resurfaced and clenched in her stomach.

Cynthia swept along the marble floor to the
very
center of the room. The prince signaled the musicians. They struck up a waltz. Wilhelm bowed to her and she inclined her head. He tucked her hand in his and wrapped his other high on her waist.

Like playing the piano, working in her flower garden, and all the other frivolous activities she’d done before her father died—she had danced as well. Nothing serious, but she remembered spinning around with Rapunzel while her mother played the piano. Cynthia knew the basic steps, but she soon realized it wouldn’t have mattered. The way the prince led his partner; he probably could have made a mop look good on the dance floor.

No one else was dancing and Cynthia felt horribly self-conscious. Whispers shot through the crowd as a ring formed around her and the prince. The orchestra played on. The glares on every wom
a
n’s face didn’t help.

“I think we may have caused something of a stir,” Cynthia said.

“Beside the fact I’m the prince,” he shot her a self-assured smile, “it may be because you’re the first person I’ve danced with.”

“That might have been helpful to know
before
,” she said, lifting an eyebrow and narrowing her eyes.

The prince spun her, gripping her a little tighter when she ended back in his arms. “But it could also be old fashioned jealousy at how beautiful you are. That costume is…” he may not have been able to find a proper word, but the look in his eyes made the sentiment clear.

Cynthia couldn’t help it, she felt a blush creeping up her neck at his words. “How am I supposed to respond to that?” she asked.

“You could return the compliment.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Wouldn’t you say I look dashing?”

“I think the tights are a little much,” Cynthia said without really thinking. She kicked herself a second later, but the prince’s grin only widened.

“Now, I thought that was the ladies’ favorite part.”

A few other couples had started to circle the floor with them. Cynthia was under the impression it was an opportunity for them to get close enough to eavesdrop.

“You don’t need any flattery from me, your head is big enough on its own,” she said.

“Ouch,” Prince Wilhelm made a sour face. “Do you talk to all princes that way?”

Cynthia smiled to herself thinking of Remi concealed in her bag currently resting on the prince’s bicep. “I do.”

The waltz ended. The prince held onto her a moment longer than necessary before stepping back and lowering his arms. “A deal’s a deal.” He inclined a hand to a young woman standing a few yards away.

She was tall and poised, her pale blonde hair done up in black feathers to match her swan mask that encircled her ice-colored eyes. Her dress was long and clinging, a glittery dark gray with a long train.

Cynthia had noticed her several times while she and the prince danced. The woman had been trying to burn a hole in the back of Cynthia’s head with her glower the entire time.

“Marcella Rothstein,” the prince said.

Marcella glided to him and touched his fingertips with her own, curtsying in one swift, elegant movement.

“Her brother, King Rothstein, rules in the north at Redstone Rock.” The prince flashed a brilliant smile in the woman’s direction. “May I present
—”
—“
the prince looked lost for a moment.

“Cynthia,” she supplied, curtsying.

“The princess and I are old friends,”
the
P
p
rince
Wilhelm
told her. “She and her brother were kind enough to make the long journey for my birthday.”

Under the prince’s gaze, the thin, pale face of Princess Marcella softened. “Your highness is too kind.”

“I’ll leave you ladies to get acquainted then.” The prince gave Cynthia a wink, bowed low to the princess and wove through the crowded dance floor, a gaggle of women in his wake.

Princess Marcella turned her icy eyes to Cynthia and asked in a polite, distant voice. “How do you know Wilhelm, then?”

In the presence of the stately woman, Cynthia suddenly felt short and dowdy, her beautiful costume silly and garish.

“I don’t,” Cynthia admitted. “We just bumped into each other.”

“He seems very interested in you for such a casual acquaintance,” the princess said. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”

“Cindy.” She gave an awkward little bow, startled at the princess’s comment. Did the prince seem interested? “Your highness, I’m an emissary for King Landry. I apologize for approaching you at a party, but his majesty has urgent business to discuss with you.”

Cynthia and Remi had concocted this story during the long hours of her imprisonment that day. Remi admitted it was a bit of a stretch, but under the circumstances it was close enough to the truth and would get them a minute or two alone with a princess. Hopefully.

“With me? Not my brother?” The princess
'
s pale eyebrows rose so far they
dis
appeared
frim
behind her mask. “Could he not communicate this in a letter?”

“With you,
P
rincess. And as I said
,
the business is urgent and rather recent.” Cynthia clutched her little bag in both hands and could feel Remi’s warm body tense. “Is there somewhere we can speak in private?”

Princess Marcella’s gaze swung around the ballroom. Cynthia followed her eyes to a tall young man with the same white-blond hair and blue eyes. He was dressed as a pirate and speaking to a mouse in a fluffy gray dress and tail. That must be King Rothstein. It took her a moment to recognize the woman under the ears and mask, but the king was leaning very close to none other than Christina Levinson.

Cynthia turned her body, paralyzed with fear of being recognized.

“Let me tell my brother where I’ll be. I’ll meet you in the garden.” Her cold blue eyes found Cynthia’s. “Your request has me most curious.”

Cynthia bowed her head and hurried to the sweeping staircase that led from the ballroom to the gardens. She passed several guards standing at attention who paid her no heed.

The fairy lights from last night were still suspended in the trees, causing the entire garden to glow. Fruit trees and low decorative hedges along with flowers and herbs dotted the landscape—ordered in straight rows that nature never intended. It was such a far cry from Cynthia’s abandoned little garden at the edge of the Wellington property.

A few shadowy couples strolled the grounds. Cynthia found a quiet bench and sat down to wait. She freed Remi from her bag. He immediately stretched his limbs like a cat and jumped into the dew-wet grass.

“This could be it, Remi,” Cynthia said.

He jumped back on the bench and turned his dark eyes on her.

“I need to do this by myself, Cindy,” he said.

“What? No, I’m going to introduce you. Explain what happened. It will be less of a shock
—”
—“

“I need to do it by myself,” he repeated, a stubborn set to his tiny jaw. “It’s embarrassing enough that I have to be carried around like an object all the time
.”
—“

“I—why are you telling me this now? I didn’t know you minded
—”
—“
Cynthia sputtered, confused as to why he was acting this way.

“Look, it was necessary, it’s not your fault
.
,
” Remi rubbed one webbed hand along the back of his neck in a very human gesture. “I just—I don’t want you here—to watch me fail.”

“Remi
—
”
—“

“It’s humiliating,” he said in a low voice, staring at the bench.

“Fine.” Cynthia stood up, smoothing her dress. “But you’ve been present for every single one of my most mortifying moments for the past week. And no, it wasn’t fun looking the fool in front of you, but it was comforting having a friend there.”

She stalked away, ignoring Remi’s shouts that followed her. She wandered the gardens aimlessly, dodging in and out of the blue and pink pools of lantern light. Last night they had seemed magical. Now they seemed to deepen her melancholy. She wandered past an extravagant fountain with a base large enough to swim in and a tall pedestal shooting jets of water. She wound through a knee-high hedge maze and came to a stop at a tall brick wall. This must be the edge of the castle’s extensive grounds. She leaned against the rough brick and tilted her head, searching for the moon past the fruit of a pear tree. She hummed a few of the haunting opening bars from
Fantasie.
The tune fit her mood tonight.

“That was quite a concert last night.” The prince slid from the shadows.

Startled, Cynthia slid down the wall a few inches before she found her feet and curtsied staring hard at the ground.
He k
n
n
o
e
w
s
, he kn
o
e
w
s
it was me
. Her heart thundered in her chest.

“Poor girl,” he continued. “But I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed that hard. Snowdrop was traumatized.”

Cynthia picked up her head. It had been an off-handed comment. He had just recognized the tune she had been humming.

“You are a difficult girl to find,” the prince said, offering her his arm. “I had to borrow the magic mirror to locate you.”

“A magic mirror?” the skepticism was heavy in her voice as she laid her hand on his arm and he led her through the gardens.

“All very hush, hush, you understand,” he said.

“You’ve been spying on me?” Cynthia asked, worried he had seen or overheard Remi.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you,” the prince replied with a wolfish grin.

“To what end?”

“I’m hoping if I keep you on my arm all night, it will keep the wolves at bay,” the prince said, reaching up to pluck a pear from the tree they were passing under. “Fending off wom
e
n all night is exhausting.”

“I believe I’ve given you all the sympathy you’re going to get from me about that problem,” Cynthia laughed. “Why is the king insisting you get married anyway?”

“It’s not the king, it’s—someone else.”

Cynthia noticed the way he shied away from answering the question and for some reason she flashed back to last night. He’d been trying to send a message during his birthday feast when he had at least half a dozen servants he could have sent.

“The truth is,” the prince said, tossing the pear in the air like a baseball. “You’re the only woman who doesn’t seem the least interested in trapping me in your net and dragging me to the altar.”

“I’m not,” Cynthia replied.

“Perhaps that’s what’s so appealing about you,” the prince said. The wicked grin was back. “Well, among other things.”

Cynthia shook her head at him and couldn’t quite make eye contact. She told herself he was teasing. She was unaccustomed to attention—and the prince was very brazen.

A scream shot through the night. It wasn’t far away and Cynthia’s thoughts immediately turned to Remi. She shook off the prince’s arm and began to run toward the sound. The prince jogged after her, worry pulling at his brow.

The bench where she’d left Remi came into view. Princess Marcella stood beside it, shaking. She seemed equal parts mad and shocked. The prince went straight to her
,
and spoke in a low voice. Others from the garden were emerging from the trees, and two guards were hurrying from the palace, a throng of guests in their wake.

Cynthia scanned the ground, frantic.

“Here,” Remi whispered. She found him blending in with the grass and scooped him up, cupping him to her chest. She began to back toward the castle, in the mind to find Jack and get out of there. The guards reached the prince and guests crowded around, including a woman dressed as a black widow flanked by a girl whose hair matched her koi costume and a very round looking butterfly. Her stepfamily.

Cynthia turned and ran back into the garden.