Dim-lit, gold-laced emerald walls gave in to towering white arches and a distant, concave azure ceiling. Two sets of footsteps clacked slowly against the marble floor.
Elswyth gazed into the darkening shades of indigo that glared at her through the hall's towering panels of glass. The rows of palace guards blurred into black shadows while she passed by.
Like a pair of sturdy feathers, a small, gentle hand was steadying her left bare arm. Elswyth felt a chill up from where their bodies were in contact and towards her soul whenever that hand inadvertently adjusted its hold every time their steps were not in sync.
Flora had not since spoken a word since her exit out of her bedroom.
Instead, the maid merely maintained her usual soft, sweet look in her brown eyes, and a shy curve that tilted subtly upward on her lips. Her petite body was slightly bent forward, and her head was lowered like any other well-trained palace maid. There was nothing suspicious in the way she carried herself.
However, Elswyth had already placed her unease about Flora onto the back of her list. The maid was not as threatening to her in the present, as there would be multiple witnesses if she decided to execute anything malicious.
What truly mattered to her at the moment, were the people whom she would encounter at the ball tonight who will all play a crucial part to her plan.
Since her usual company to social occasions, Lady Althea, was still recovering from her severe injury, Elswyth had requested another person as her partner for the ball.
"Ah, my beautiful sister has finally arrived!" A flamboyant voice echoed off the walls and into her ears.
Stars appeared in Elswyth's glass-blue eyes, and she pressed forward, ignoring the throbbing pain rising stronger up her legs.
Flora bowed before silently retreating into the shadows.
"Brother, it's been too long since we've last met." She stopped in front a silver-haired main with gray-blue eyes and looked up, a happy smile dancing on her lips.
"Els my dear," her brother shielded his eyes with his gloved hand, "I've just arrived and you are really going to attack me like that?"
She frowned. "Like what?"
"Like you've missed me so much your heart couldn't take it."
Elswyth suddenly felt a small spark of irritation. How could she have forgotten how cheeky her brother was? But her irritation quickly subsided as she reminisced of her time in the modern world.
A warm smile returned to her lips. It's truly been too long.
She reached up and clasped onto her brother's raised hand, lowering it down. "Think what you like, brother."
She then solemnly locked her eyes onto him again. "You did not forget our plan, right?"
He solemnly nodded back. "I forgot."
"Wait what--"
"Oh wait, I remembered it again." He laughed and flicked her forehead. "Why so serious? Take it easy, like the lazy bum you always were."
Elswyth's cheeks puffed out slightly. "Brother, you're 28 already, can't you be more serious?"
She clasped her right hand onto his sturdy arm, leaning onto him for support. Inwardly, Elswyth sighed as her feeble state ate away her enthusiasm. She yearned to sit down on a nice and cool, cushioned seat so she could relieve some of the pain shooting up her trembling legs. "I wish 3rd brother was here." She muttered. "Easier to work with."
Her brother gently guided her tightened hand onto his upheld palm, so that her whole forearm rested on his own like an armrest. "You have my apologies, dear sister, I should perhaps grow more muscles and brawns in my head like our brother so you could handle me more easily." He sounded oddly gentle as he spoke, and it irked her.
Elswyth was about to refute and say that he was fine, until she felt odd shifts in his weight. She nervously drew her eyes toward her brother.
Elswyth expression grew incredulous at his new gait; his knees were bent forward at 145° angle, down to nearly her height as he supported her arm. It was like a crab walking forward.
"Brother, we're almost at the ball, please stop, I'm fine." She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and quickly released her grip on his hand. "Please remember our plan." She pleaded.
"Oh, right, our plan--"
* * *
"Prince Bradyn River Olbrecht and Princess Elswyth Anthea Olbrecht!"
The chorus of voices echoing about the vast, golden room fell silent, and hundreds of eyes turned to fix at one point.
A golden plateau, adorned with a series of wide, curved steps at its feet and sides, presently held two among the most precious figures of Gerwenia. One of them particularly drew many lingering gazes.
"Is that the princess, mother?" A soft voice thinly veiling the weight of jealousy whispered amongst the multitude.
"Of course, dear, it was already announced; why did you want to confirm it again, are your eyes alright? You are worrying me-"
"Humph, the prince is more beautiful."
"Dear, I think that someone really blinded you, let me take a look at you--"
"Greetings, loyal subjects of our great nation Gerwenia!" Prince Bradyn stepped forward, a wide, brilliant smile on his face.
Many young women's hearts internally raced and focused their eyes solely on the prince.
"As you all have been informed, this year will with the 20th anniversary of my father's reign over this blessed nation." The prince bowed towards an elderly figure seated across the room, on a raised, inner balcony.
Taking a glass chalice filled with wine offered by a servant, he lifted it authoritatively. "Let us now raise our glasses as one, as a toast of appreciation for his long rule of wisdom, in graciousness and perseverance."
Hundreds of clothes rustled in unison as the crowd raised their glasses. "Long live King Edmundus Maven Olbrecht! May the light never cease to be your guiding hand!"
The violin soon began to dance in the air, a cello's melodic rumbles and a piano's twittering steps following behind. Human pairs began to bring warmth onto the cold marble floor as they danced.
Elswyth kept her eyes on her father.
They were more than a hundred feet apart in this enormous ball room, but she had never been this close, ever since her death during her first life as the Gerwenian princess.
***
King Edmundus squinted his eyes, seeing a blurry speck on the other side of the room.
He sighed inwardly. Why did the ancestors make this room like it was always bathed in sunlight? They should have had mercy on the elderly's eyesight.
"Sir Atticus, who is that speck I see on the other side?"
Atticus furrowed his brows in concentration, raising a single golden-eyed speck to his eye. "Your Majesty, there are many specks on the other side. I can't tell myself." He croaked and shook his head, his white beard swaying along with his movements.
King Edmundus stroked his own snow-white beard, then affectionately a gesture of 'shoo shoo' with his wrinkled hand toward the blurry speck.
There was a sparkle in his pale blue eyes and the ends his long mustache were raised up, making his nearby subordinates almost flinch in shock. "My cute daughter, go enjoy the rest of the evening, don't concern yourself with me."
Atticus looked questioningly at the king. Why would he ask him, if he already knew himself?
The king harumphed, his face relaxing back into deep, solemn lines. "Do not give me that look. You think I would not recognize my own daughter? You are getting old Atticus."
Atticus was left speechless, mortified.