Words were insufficient from Madeline's mouth; she refused to believe that the sight in front of her was actually real. Had the king uttered such words despite being in front of her? Were they the words of a passerby to their lover? She refused to believe that the king, this king with eyes as cold as the rain, would ask her to dance.
Walking dreams. Perhaps she was caught up in one of her walking dreams, where she got lost wandering about but imagining things. Although her parents told her she had stopped sleepwalking at the age of ten, Madeline refused to believe it. Perhaps she was in one of the dreams, sleepwalking and had suddenly come in front of the king, yet he had indeed asked her to dance.
A lowly lady like her, who was not fit to be in this ballroom, and was in no way fit to be held by the king.
Nevertheless, the king's eyes were so cold. He seemed to have no soul, prompting the thought that he was no gentleman. He was not Sebastian...
"May I have this dance?" The king said again.
It was not a dream?
Madeline brought herself to look at him, at those eyes that were still cold. How could someone have such cold eyes? My God. Could anyone with these eyes ever ask a lady for a dance?
Then she remembered that it was he who had sent the dress and the carriage. She recalled her father's words: "A man this cold would not have done those things." Was this coldness a facade, or was someone else doing all this disguising themselves as the king?
But then, the king was in front of her asking for a dance.
Her head turned, and she looked around the ballroom. Her eyes caught their eyes, wide with something other than anticipation—fright. The music seemed to have stopped playing as if also holding its breath.
Dear Lord, should she refuse the king? What would be her crime? Treason.
Madeline gulped and dropped the plate and fork beside her. She was too shocked to feel embarrassed for holding them in front of the king. She sucked in a long intake of breath and turned to face him again.
Sure enough, this tall, handsome man with his status would make anyone want to dance with him. However, the coldness with which she was greeted with had overshadowed every other feature he possessed. She was very scared of him and what he might do to her if she rejected him.
She would have objected. She would have told him no, she would not dance with him. However, that would have been rude and inappropriate, especially considering the pending business. If she failed to act with good manners, she could be sent back, and the king might not buy from her.
The king extended his black gloved hand. Gracious, this was not happening. All her life, she had never imagined that the first person she would ever dance with, aside from the coldness was going to be him, the king.
Was it an honor? Maybe she would choose to see it as such.
Madeline placed her hand in his, and his large hand closed over hers. Then, his other hand wrapped around her waist, while her hand stayed on his shoulder. Dancing was not her forte, but watching the people in the ballroom sway with their partners made it easy to catch the moves and steps.
The king leaned closer, his breath reaching her, invading her personal space, causing her heart to beat a million times faster.
Who was he to make her feel this way, to make her legs go weak? She had thought Sebastian was the only one privileged to have her heart, and she would give it willingly—not this king.
She shouldn't be feeling her heartbeats multiply tenfold for him. It must be fear, she told herself, fear of what this cold man might do to her.
"Have you never danced before?" he asked, his eyes narrowing at her, as if he could detect a lie.
"Yes, My king, I have never danced," Madeline bowed her head, her eyes avoiding his gaze. She could not bear to look at this man.
"Very well, all you have to do is follow the music, listen to the sound," he whispered the last words in her ear, causing her to jolt.
Why must it be her who was chosen? He barely knew her, and now he was asking her to dance. Was this intentional to punish her?
As soon as the music started, a bright light shone brightly on them, making it hard to see the people around them except for him. Was she now in the spotlight, an actress in a theater with the crowd looking upon her?
Fear spread through her, but she felt his hand tighten on hers, forcing her to look at him.
He spoke again, "Listen to the music."
She relaxed and followed the music, as she was told. It was unexplainable how she was able to listen to him, but maybe it was his handsomeness that overshadowed his coldness, capturing her attention.
The king tightened his hold on her waist and swayed her to the slow music being played. At first, she struggled to match his steps, but soon her legs followed his lead, and she improved while dancing with him.
Their eyes locked as they swayed to the music. The silence in the room was intoxicating, and without the music, it felt like no one else was present.
Her heart pounded rapidly, and she tried to ignore it—the fluttering inside, the curling of her toes. Yet, she felt it. It was as intense as what she felt for Sebastian, but she couldn't bring herself to be held by someone so soulless. It was worse than not marrying a gentleman.
When the dance came to an end, the king still held her but was now watching her. Then he spoke, drawling his words, "You interest me." His voice, despite the cold demeanor, was soft—almost as if it was not part of him.
No, he didn't just say that, but he certainly did.
As she looked at him, she saw a fleeting change in his eyes, then they returned to their coldness.
He laughed silently and shook his head, saying, "I should let you be now."
'Why does that feel like he was casting her aside? Get a grip of yourself, Madeline,' her inner mind screamed at her.
She curtsied when his hand left hers and saw him nod before he walked away. The music resumed, the spotlight faded, and she could see the faces of the other people in the room.
Most were engrossed in dancing, but she caught some whispers and stares directed at her. They must be curious about who she is and why the king asked to dance with her.
A clink of glass brought her out of her trance, as a man stepped forward and announced, "Change of partner.", this caused the crowd to cheer.
As the music played, she watched as people changed their dance partners. This time, the music was fast, causing a frenzy of jumping and clapping.
Sebastian walked up to her and winked, "May I have this dance?" He extended his hand.
Unlike the king, it was easy to take his hand, so she did. In his presence, she felt warmth, and with him, she felt she could dance properly. The fear she had worn was soon replaced with bubbling excitement as she danced with him. They began clapping and jumping to the rhythm of the music, just like the others, and soon she forgot the fear she had felt.
After a while, the music slowed down, and she felt Sebastian's hand on her waist, his eyes locked on hers.
A while ago, before this ball, she would have felt a stronger connection for Sebastian, but not anymore. She did not feel her heart beat as intensely as she had when dancing with the king.
A gasp escaped her lips. She needed to remind herself that it must be fear; she must have been scared of him to feel that way. Except her eyes refused to focus on Sebastian and instead traveled through the room until she saw him.
He was leaned against a railing on the upper room where the stairs led. The worst of it was when their gazes locked, neither of them looked away.