Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [71]
When they came to the end of the dance, she swept aside her skirts a little, to show him why.
Her gleaming blue shoes were a thing of great beauty. There were swirls of green, and an overlay of gold filigree, all of it made of glass. She wore no stockings, and the blue and gold and green stood out starkly against her pale skin.
“They hurt like nothing you have ever felt,” Poppy said fervently, dropping her skirts. “I think I’d rather be run through with a rusty cavalry saber.”
Wincing with sympathy, he took her hands and led her into the next dance. They would have to dance every dance, lest the Corley suspect that something was amiss.
“So what do we do now?” Christian wanted to relax and enjoy dancing with Poppy, but he couldn’t help but worry about what was coming next. “Do we just wait for the end of the evening? Am I supposed to propose to you?” This last idea did not seem all that repellent, actually.
He noticed that he was not experiencing any of the fogginess, the twisting of his thoughts, that he had had with Eleanora as Ella. Was it the potion and the charms at work? Or was it because it was Poppy wearing the glass slippers?
“I suppose,” Poppy said shortly. She had a funny look on her face, but it might have been the mask. “I have to leave before midnight, so we’ll do it sometime before then. Roger and all three of the Seadowns are armed with charms and what have you, waiting for the Corley’s next move.”
Her voice was breezy, confident, but Christian thought he could detect a slight tremble to it, and saw her chin pucker. He held her a little more closely than the dance demanded, and felt her lean into him.
“Did I ever tell you that the first time my sister Rose danced with her husband Galen, he was invisible?” Poppy’s voice was hardly more than a whisper.
“Invisible?”
“He had a cape that made him invisible. That’s how he was following us down to the King Under Stone’s palace,” she said. “He stabbed the king with a knitting needle.”
Christian let out a quick laugh. “Is that all we need? One of your knitting needles? The Corley will be gone, poof?”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” she said, laughing breathlessly.
“I wish I was able to do more,” Christian said, voicing his frustration.
“Don’t you worry,” she told him. “Roger has a knife for you, almost a short sword, forged out of blessed silver.”
Christian felt relieved: they were going to need him after all. He was good with swords and knives. He rather wished Roger could have located him a rapier, but he imagined that the Corley didn’t follow the gentlemanly rules of fencing.
No, better to hack and slash with a sturdy (and magical) short sword than prance back and forth with a needle-thin foil.
“See, Roger is signaling us now,” Poppy said. “Let’s dance over that way, and get your weapon.” She gave a little sigh. “I have one, but it’s not half as impressive.”
Christian couldn’t help laughing as he guided their steps toward a severe-looking figure in judge’s robes with a noose tied to his waist. For one thing, it was just like Roger Thwaite to dress as a “hanging judge” while everyone else was romantically garbed as pirates or knights, and for another, it was just like Poppy to be jealous that her weapon was smaller.
“I shall buy you a short sword for your birthday,” Christian promised.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Poppy said.
“Who is this mysterious lady?” Roger stopped them at the edge of the dance floor and kissed Poppy’s hand.
“Oh, sir! Don’t tempt me to reveal myself,” Poppy simpered, and slapped Roger’s arm with her peacock feather fan, shedding a plume.
Christian stifled a snicker at her impersonation of Lady Ella. He’d had a chance to speak to the real Eleanora yesterday, and thought she was a delightful, shy young woman. He had no idea why being Lady Ella made her slap people and pout all the time.