Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 96695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Should he ask about the rose? What could he say? He didn’t want the prince to think he’d been snooping. But if Everand had gotten those things back for him, why hadn’t he returned them to Hugo?
Later.
There was no rush. Some thoughts were forming in his head as the odd pieces of this puzzle started to fit together. For now, it could wait. He would ask Everand about the glass rose and ring after the ball. Tonight was about having fun.
Twenty
Prince Everand led Hugo into the ballroom through a set of partially hidden doors that were being used by servants carrying food and dishes to and from the kitchen. The plan was to slip into the crowd with flutes of champagne in hand and pretend they’d been there all along.
It should have worked.
It very nearly did.
But blending in with the crowd of revelers, who were deep in their cups and more than a little sweaty, wasn’t the problem.
Hugo fought to keep the guilty grin off his lips as they hurried past a servant holding a tray of empty champagne flutes. The man’s eyes widened. He gasped but didn’t say a word as Hugo and the prince worked their way into the crush.
The orchestra was playing a jaunty reel, and the clack of heels and thump of boots on the marble was loud, pounding above the chatter of conversation.
“Want to give it a whirl?” Everand inquired, his nose nuzzling Hugo’s ear.
“I’d rather not. Reels and polkas aren’t my strong suit. Do you think the orchestra has another waltz or something else slow in its repertoire for the night?” Hugo admitted. It was better to confess his failings than risk embarrassing the prince in front of all the gathered aristocrats.
“Even if they don’t, I’ll tell them to play our first waltz again. I don’t care. I like holding you in my arms.”
“Does everyone fall for you when you say such sweet things?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never said such things to anyone.”
Hugo bit the inside of his cheek to hold in a sigh. This man was going to make him swoon in the middle of the crowd. How could he talk like this and not be embarrassed one bit? He was shameless. Completely and utterly shameless.
Their conversation stopped as they worked their way into the crowd, with many people happily calling the prince and then noting that Hugo remained at his side. That got the ball attendees gossiping even faster.
“Are you thirsty or hungry?” Everand inquired. “I can send someone to fetch us something. We can carve out a spot by my parents so we can eat in peace.”
“Eat in peace by your parents?” Hugo shot him an incredulous look, and Everand made a show of rolling his eyes.
“Okay, not total peace, but I promise they will at least be polite,” the prince countered, still grinning.
Hugo nodded. “I could eat. It’s been a busy day, and I’ve worked up an appetite.”
Everand bumped his shoulder into Hugo’s. “Yes, we need to keep your strength up.”
Hugo chuckled and followed Everand toward the dais where his parents were sitting. They hadn’t gotten far when a loud, deep bang echoed through the ballroom, followed by a second and a third. The heavy thuds came from all around the large space. People stopped dancing, and even the orchestra cut off the tune they were playing.
“What was that?” Hugo asked, edging closer to the prince. Everywhere, murmurs of conversation increased in volume, and there was a new uneasy edge to it.
“Someone closed the doors. Hurry! Come with me.” Everand caught Hugo’s hand in a tight grip and pulled him through the throng of people to the dais. A cold sweat broke out across his back and clung to his skin.
That shouldn’t have happened. Something was wrong, and they needed to get to the king and queen as quickly as possible. The royal family needed to be protected at all costs.
As Hugo searched for castle guards, a woman in the middle of the ballroom screamed. Hugo and the prince stopped and twisted in the direction of the rending sound. For a couple of heartbeats, Hugo could see only panicked people rushing off the dance floor to the sidelines. Colors swirled and faces contorted in fear. The sweet scents that had perfumed the night now soured in his nose. As his line of sight cleared, he spotted a man in an elegant black tuxedo holding a young woman in a pale-lilac dress in front of him. He pressed a long knife to her slender neck. A thin line of bright-red blood trickled down her throat.
What was happening? Was this man a guest? Did he have a grievance against the woman?
“Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty,” the attacker called out, his tone light and even jovial. The people attending the ball fell silent, so that there was just the faint rustle of fabric and muffled whimpers. “King Victor Claymoore of Wulia sends his regards.”