The Defiant

Monique left the five of us in front of a huge set of gilded double doors and took the boys down to enter the ballroom through the servant’s entrance. It panicked me to be split up so early, but there was no way to protest the separation without appearing suspicious.

I had no time to dwell on it, however, because the enormous gold doors swung inward at that moment. We walked forward onto a wide white marble balcony with a view of the ballroom.

Fighting the urge to run to the side to look down at the splendor, I instead looked around as we were announced by the herald who stood at the top of the stairs.

“The Eranian royalty; Their Highnesses Princess Rafaela and Princess Rosa-Marie, and their cousins, the Countesses Isabella, Valentina, and Antonella,” he called from the balcony.

We descended the stairs, half my attention on not tripping, the other half on observation.

Gold and silver drapes hung in swaths on the walls. The marble floor was polished to such a sheen that it reflected the light from the enormous crystal chandelier that hung above it all, casting rays of golden light that the tiny crystals bent and refracted everywhere, so it seemed the ballroom was lit by a bright sun. Music swelled from nowhere; the people below looked up to us and bowed before returning to their dance. It was amazing to watch—perfectly in sync, the men whirled their partners around; skirts in a rainbow of colors, every material from silk to damask to velvet, in every style from the sleek Cebosian sheath dresses to the Eranian ball gowns, all moving like brightly colored gears in an intricate machine.

Fancies aside, we had a job to do. As we neared the bottom of the staircase, I kept my eye on the servants, who circulated around with trays of champagne and food, distributing to the guests, before returning to the kitchen through nearly invisible doors hidden under the fabric that hung on the walls.

As we stepped onto the dance floor, the boys fell in behind us. Two peeled off discreetly, to follow the servants, according to plan. Six and Five departed to the walls to keep an eye on us, like proper bodyguards.

“Your Highness,” came a familiar voice from behind me. I whirled around to see Prime Minister Milonakis. “May I have this dance?” he asked, and I realized that another song had started and I should have been off the dance floor if I did not wish to be engaged in the dance, according to Eranian etiquette.

“Of course,” I said, making a heroic effort to avoid scowling. At least the song was a slow round step, something I could easily manage. As Milonakis whisked me away toward the center of the ballroom, I caught Eight’s eye. She was cornered by an older man in a Cebosian suit and pulled into a dance as well. Five, back by the wall, had a stormy expression on his face as he watched her twirl away.

“My dear Princess Rafaela,” Milonakis said in his signature way, that sounded innocent from afar, but was extremely creepy when you were the recipient of the words. “How are you enjoying the Officer’s Ball?”

“I don’t know, as I’ve been here for only a few minutes,” I said, trying not to shudder as he clasped my hand in his startlingly cold one.

Milonakis laughed, even though I hadn’t been trying to be funny.

“My dear lady, you are a constant delight. But is not the ballroom lovely this evening?” he asked, motioning to the drapes and chandelier. I realized in horror that there were no windows for Five to break for a distraction. What would we do?

“Um…” What had he said? “Yes, very beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Milonakis whispered in my ear, leaning in close to me.

I spun out away from him a beat too early, eager to get away. This guy was a grade-A creep. As I spun, I caught sight of Three whirling by on the arm of a tall, fair-haired man, a boy, really, not much older than Three, in a well-cut suit.

I spun back in reluctantly.

“You spun too early,” Milonakis pointed out.

“Yes, I apologize, Prime Minister. To my poor mother’s constant chagrin, I am not much of a dancer,” I said, smiling innocently.

“Interesting. You seem to be doing very well.”

“Thank you. I try.”

Thankfully, the song finally ended. Milonakis bowed to me and kissed my hand, his lips trailing over my hand.

“A pleasure as always, Princess Rafaela,” he said, disappearing back into the crowd. I wiped my hand off on my skirt, repulsed. Why had he stressed my name like that? Did he suspect that I wasn’t who I said I was?

“Princess,” came a voice from behind me. “Would you like to dance?”

I turned around to see a short, balding man, bouncing along to the music with his hand out to me. I looked regretfully at the table near the wall where Four and Seven still sat, but accepted.

“I’m sorry, it seems I have neglected to introduce myself,” he said, escorting me out to the dance floor and beginning the first steps. “I am the Sorhnan ambassador to Cebos, Aurelius Rathborne.”

“Sorhna is the Sedhan homeworld, is it not? Why is there not a Sedhan ambassador?” I realized this was probably an impertinent question, but hey, I was a princess today. I could ask whatever I wanted.

“Well, we wouldn’t expect the Cebosian ambassadors to deal with those creepy things, now would we?” he said disturbingly casually.

“Shouldn’t you show more respect to the Sedha? After all, you represent their planet,” I said.

“Oh my dear girl,” he laughed. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. The Sedha are a savage child race. It’s our duty to rule them. After all, they’re not exactly human, now are they?” He chuckled condescendingly. This man, who had seemed so normal just a moment ago, now seemed quite repugnant.

“But they are still sentient, and deserve representation in their government.”

“Princess Rafaela. Those people, a term I use loosely, are little better than barbarians. Their organization, the Arguu, or some such thing, blows up civilians to spread their ‘message.’ They seem to think they’re being mistreated.” He said this as though it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “They use bombs, for heaven’s sake. They are little better than twenty-first century terrorists on Earth.” Rathborne’s information seemed to coincide with Five’s and though I was loathe to agree with this despicable man, evidence seemed to be mounting against the Aerzhu.

“Perhaps their methods are not the best way of raising awareness for their cause, but maybe you should convince your government to hear their demands.”

“Ah, Your Highness. Clearly you have a very limited knowledge. But of course, you are a woman, and from a rather backward planet to boot.”

I bristled. “Ambassador. Perhaps you will reconsider what you just said to me.”

“Of course. I apologize,” he said insincerely, looking over my shoulder as the song ended.

I extricated myself with disgust from the dance floor and went over to the table where Four and Seven sat.

“Hey, One. Having fun with the bureaucrats?” Four smirked at me.

“Who is this One, Countess Antonella?” I asked, not-so-subtly reminding her to use my fake name in case someone overheard us. “How is our guard doing in his quest?”

“No news,” Seven said. She lowered her voice. “Once he comms Six, it’ll only be a matter of time before we have to make a distraction. And there are no windows.”

“I know. We’ll just have to improvise. Maybe we can knock over a table or something.”

The fire step music started up, drowning out our words. Eight returned to the table, keeping up the guise of having an illness, but Three remained on the floor, dancing with the same blond boy I’d seen her with earlier.

I opened my mouth to tell them about what Rathborne had said about the Sedha and the Aerzhu, but just then, I sensed movement behind me, and the thought flew out of my mind. Six reached up to tap the comm in his ear, then moved away from Five and disappeared into one of the servant’s entrances.