When the Clock struck Midnight...
A faint tinkle that had to be crystal glasses drifted up the stairs. The
low murmer of conversation was occasionally broken by laughter. Wrinkling
her nose, Krysta finally identified the laugher as Bleys, of course, who
else. Occasionally a voice would raise above the crowd, but no
conversations were distinct at this distance. A couple wandered into the
front hall, and Krysta scooted farther up the stairs. She really shouldn't
be here, but somehow Caine had gotten wind of her first plan.
He had run into her that afternoon, presumably by accident. She had just
returned from hiding the serving costume in her room, and was hurrying to
get back to her lessons. From the shadows of the hall he had appeared. "A
word with you Krysta." It wasn't really a request, and heart thudding
heavily, she just stared at him. "Don't."
"Wha.."
"Just don't" and he had strode ahead of her.
Even now, she shivered thinking of the brief encounter. How had he learned
of her plan. Tonight was a celebration ball. Some war that Oberon had
waged was over. Everyone that was anyone was invited, and Krysta felt the
lack of her own invitation sorely. Determined to be there, she had
convinced one of the young girls that hse had grown up with to acquire a
serving costume for her. She was so unknown in public, and in some ways
even in private as a member of the family that her identity wasn't known.
Somehow, Caine had learned what she was planning. There was little point in
pretending she didn't know what he was talking about. Reluctantly, she had
returned the costume, and spent the evening in her rooms. Her pout had
mainly gone un-noticed, as everyone was busy getting ready for the ball.
Dressing up slighlty she had wandered down to the kitchen hoping that Fiona
or Deirdre would notice her and tell her that hse had better hurry or she
wouldn't be ready in time. No such luck. All she had managed to do was get
the cooks mad at her as she tried to coerce some dinner from them. And her
fingers smacked for stealing from the hors' deourve trays. With a napkin
wrapped bundle, she had found a niche at the head of the stairs, where she
could watch the rest of the family make their entrances. They were
impressive in their formal attire, and quite took Krysta's breath away.
One after another they had descended. Unescorted and pausing to make their
appearnace known. Then they had all stood and waited for Oberon to appear.
They made an impressive couple, Harla shown under the admiring glances of
the men, and Oberon, secure in his own position reveled in her popularity.
Not that he was lacking in appeal to the fairer sex, but enjoying the
pageantry of it all, he swept Harla into the ballroom, and soon Krysta heard
the strains of music coming through the doors.
Light and airy, it had pulled her down the stairs, one step at a time.
Hiding behind the massive bannister, she had peeked through the open doors.
Lacking many of the finer touches, the sheer immensity of the castle
reminded one of the power held by this family. Tonight, the plain walls,
were glowing from the lights, and the flashes that were struck from jewels
worn by both men and women were the only decorations needed. In truth
Krysta thought that the clothing would be gaudy in a more finished room.
This way, they were the decorations, and Krysta enjoyed her role as audience.
The couple didn't see her, instead hurrying on past the hall, and out into
the yard. Krysta felt a brief wistfulness, that she too could be enjoying
the company of the young men, dancing gaily about, with the loving eye of
her father to protect her. With a shrug for what wouldn't be, she moved
back down to her earlier perch. A rather large group of people headed out.
Mainly men, but a few women for whom this obviously wasn't their first ball
headed for one of the rooms where gaming had been set up. Caine was among
them and he looked over to where she sat. Shrinking back, Krysta held her
breath, afraid he would chase her off, but with a breif shake of his head,
he turned his attention back to the woman on his arm. Feeling bold with her
success, Krysta moved closer. Running out of stairs, she eventually found a
spot behind a statue where she was hidden, but could watch the dancers easily.
Several hours later, the entire company went in for dinner. Realizing
that her stolen snacks were not enough, Krysta headed for the kitchens. In
the chaos of serving dinner, it was much easier to sneak enough to feed
herself. When she finally caught the attention of one of the cooks, she
gave a laugh and skipped out.
She scooted back to her statue. Some people were talking in the hall, and
Krysta hoped that she had gone unnoticed. Fate was not so kind this time.
Julian was standing near by. He didn't say anything. As people were
heading back into the ballroom, he wandered over towards the statue.
Holding a plate of dessert in his hand, he winked towards Krysta's hidindg
place. "Having fun?" he asked, then setting the plate down, he turned and
went back to the dance.
Releasing the breath she hadn't been aware that she was holding, Krysta
managed a weak smile, then grabbed the plate. Her favorite, a sinful
confection of chocolate and fruit, it was delicious. Savoring each bite,
she once again watched the couples circling the room. She watched in
particular her relatives, studying their moves, and who they danced with.
So caught up in what she was doing, she failed to notice that someone else
had found her hiding spot. A throat being cleared had her whirling in
place, tangling herself in her skirts. Oh Unicorn, it was Oberon. She
peered up at his stern visage, afraid to meet his eyes, but determined that
she would. Not that it did much good, she was much to inexperienced to read
what was in them when she did.
He sighed. "Well, child, you do have a certain stubbornness that seems to
run in this family." He held out a hand. Seeing the thought that crossed
her face to refuse him, he merely raised an eyebrow. Meekly Krysta placed
her small hand in his. His hand was large and calloused, firm but not
forceful in his grip. Easily he lifted her to her feet. Much to her
surprise, he led her away form the wall, then placed his other hand around
her waist. In the darkness of the hall, he danced with her, the music soft
in the background. Almost forgetting who led her, Krysta swayed to the
music, eyes half-closed a smile lighting her face. reluctantly she realized
that the music had ended, and she straightened. Oberon dropped her hands
and stepped back, He bowed shortly, and Krysta curtsied back to him. It
wasn't the most graceful, and Oberon winced slightly, but nodded. "Now you
have had your first dance. Do stay out of the way of the guests child,and
fix your hair. It didn't survive the statue that well." He turned and
strode back to the waiting lights.
Krysta stood and stared for moment, then raced for her rooms, to repair her
hair. Then far more sedately, she descended the stairs, and moved to the
doors. Unsure of herself, she hesitated in the doorway, until someone came
up behind her. "Excuse me.." Krysta turned to blush into the face of the
young man who stood there.
"I..I'm sorry," she whispered, "I didn't mean to block the door. They are
so.." she waved to the crowd.
"Yes they are, aren't they." The man grinned back at her, then moved past
her. "My name is Falthen, and you are.." he paused grinning engagingly.
Krysta started to smile, then froze as a voice behind her murmered. "She
is much to young for you Falthen, and relatively penniless." The hidden
mirth at the pun was obvious to Krysta, but Falthen started to say
something, then reddening bowed and left, dissappearing into the crowd.
Krysta wheeled to face the voice. "Yes?" Deirdre waited for a moment. "I
would watch who you keep company with. I think it is time that you had a
governess. I will speak with Fiona," and she left.
Feeling deflated, Krysta spied a small alcove that had a cushioned bench in
it. Curling up there she watched late into the night. Unaware of when she
fell asleep, she wakened once, as she was being carried up the stairs. The
familiar feel of the lean arms around her comforted her, and she went back
to sleep before Benedict ever lay her upon her bed. Not even waking wheh he
drew the covers over her, nor when he bent to press a kiss to her forehead
and whisper "Sleep well, little one."