The Magic of the (Possible) Princess
On the day of the ball—which Kelsea insisted he call a Halloween party—she returned to the palace with Emily.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” her companion cried, looking at the marble floors and spiral staircase. “He wasn’t a freak, after all.”
“Don’t call him a freak,” Kelsea snapped. She then turned to the Prince, who was slightly off-guard at having been defended by her.
Emily rounded on him and said hotly, “If you’re a good prince, you’ll stay down here while she gets dressed. Understand?”
Kelsea heaved an apologetic sigh. “I brought Em because that dress is fancy as hell and I am going to need help slipping it on. I hope you don’t mind.”
He shook his head, inching away.
“Emily,” said Kelsea under her breath, “be nice. I’ll show you where it is.”
The Prince watched both of them head upstairs. It felt strange to have them wandering his halls when for years he’d lived alone.
He sat in one of the armchairs and clasped his shaky hands, wondering what had become of the Barn Owl; he hadn’t made an appearance the Prince sent him to speak with Kelsea. For years he had scorned the creature’s presence as nothing but a nuisance, but now he missed his comments and wisdom.
He was lost in this thought when Emily’s voice traveled down the stairs—“We’re ready to go!”
Swallowing hard, he rose—and stiffened. The first thing he saw was Emily, dressed like some sort of demented cat with too much makeup caked onto her face. Behind her, though, waited the Autumn Princess he’d pictured in his dreams.
The color spilled off her in a beautiful cascade, her hair was woven in an elegant knot. She wore the amber pendant he’d given her; it gleamed in the sun spilling through the window like fire rising from her chest. He thought of how the Autumn Court would react if they could see her; they would be floored by her beauty like him, they would bow to her and crown her at once, for she represented all that was good about the most glorious time of the year.
Remembering his manners, he hurried up the stairs to take her hand. Unlike her best friend, she wasn’t wearing makeup, but her cheeks were still pink; their gazes locked, and he wondered if this could be the beginning of forever.
Perhaps it was just one day of magic to break the monotony of his life. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to let her go.
He gently kissed her hand again, watched her take a shallow breath of surprise, and whispered, “Lady Kelsea.”
For the first time she didn’t correct his usage of the title; she seemed unable to speak at all. She lifted the hem of her dress and let him guide her down the stairs.
“Look at you two, being all sappy,” called Emily behind him. “Some of us are dateless, you know.”
Kelsea scoffed, some of her old attitude returning. “Em!” But she smirked and shook her head, then turned to the Prince and smiled. “But it is nice to have a date for once.”
“I guess I’m driving,” Emily said, striding right past them. “Seeing as one of you doesn’t have a license, and the other is wearing six rows of skirts.”
The Prince didn’t want to look away. She was warm and perfect, she was all he ever wanted, but he didn’t know if he could keep her. He tried not to be melancholy; the ball hadn’t even begun.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered instead, for no other words came.
She hesitated, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Before he could say a word, she followed her friend out of the palace, leaving him in shocked silence.
And determined not to lose her, no matter what.
She was perfect, absolutely perfect.
Perhaps love is responsible for everything, after all. And maybe there’ll be a happy ending. All I can tell you now is, this won’t be your regular Halloween party!
Start from the beginning and join the fun!
Also, this may become a series (my Muse is badgering me to write it as a real book.) Stay tuned!
-Mariella Hunt
Filed under: The Autumn Prince Tagged: emily, halloween, kelsea, novella, serial, the autumn prince, writing
