I run down the hall with King Petros' smirking face on my mind. Just let there be enough time to prevent him from carrying out his intentions. Duels? Weren't they things of the past? Did this planet live in the 18th century?

I fume at the thought of my sisters being ridiculed or taunted for expressing themselves. Dora is not to be shunned for being exuberant. Any palace would benefit from her presence like a breath of fresh air. Just her attitude and her excitement for living blows most of the dusty cobwebs from stuffy royal custom.

The idea that my sister's costume would be enough to set brothers against each other, pitting a King sized ego against a Prince's romantic dedication. There could be no winner here. I would just have to talk some sense into the King.

I make it downstairs in record time, taking stairs two at a time. Thanks to my foot size, I'm not wearing heels which would slow my speed to a mincing walk. I set my shoulders straight and lift up my chin and look all around for my sisters. They should be easy to spot. Ah ha. There is Tori standing by the punch bowl with a tiny glass cup in her curled index finger. She doesn't look happy at all, she blows a feather out from her eye and then follows with a brush of her hand. Has she been crying?

In a panic I scan the room for Dora's pink flamingo head. There, by the band on the stage. Her head dress is intact, dipping and bobbing in front of the drum set. Her attendants leap and tip to retain tension and control of the flamingo's head. That is odd. She and Prince Rupert are behaving as though they are having the time of their lives.

I look around the room and wonder whether I will be able to spot the King. I spend a few moments inspecting a man dressed like Caesar, with a laurel wreath around his head like a crown. But he is too short and his toga swells over his paunch.

There doesn't seem to be a duel going on, unless you count the fact that Dora's flamingo head is trying to peck poor prince Rupert. Luckily, her attendants are quite acrobatic.

Petros

I lift my eyes and scan the room. Swirling gowns in pastel shades, feathers and masks and sounds of crystal and laughter.

Gods help me, I see a vision in sparkling blue. The color of my land and my people. Upon her?

She arrives at a masquerade ball wearing panic and determination on her face instead of a mask. She scans the room until her eyes settle on Dora and the Prince.

I wish they'd settled on me.

In a few strides I come up behind her and whisper her name.

* * *

Cyndi

"Cyndi."

I turn and am startled to see a tall swashbuckling pirate, complete with tights and a rag tied around his tousled dark hair. His eyepatch completes the disguise. A pearly white smile is framed by his false goatee.

I am not fooled. No disguise that could prevent me from recognizing the irksome King Cod.

"What do you want?"

"A word with you."

My eyes narrow. What is he up to? "I wanted one with you as well," I struggle to keep my voice low and steady.

Then, he gives me no words. Instead, he turns abruptly and stalks outside. I have no trouble keeping abreast of him.

As soon as we clear the double doors and gain the veranda, I lay in on him. "You don't command my sister. She can wear whatever she pleases and you can't make her do otherwise."

"Clearly, she has shown her very independent and creative streak tonight."

"You may be King and used to having your wishes fulfilled, but you cannot govern people's self will."

"From the first moment I met her I saw she could not be changed."

"Nor should she be. She's independent and creative and very high strung. She is perfect the way she is. I will not have you shaming her or putting her down."

"I have no interest in doing that. You, however have drawn my interest. I can't work out why you are always so angry with me. Even now, you look you want to tear me from limb to limb."

"I would even break your arm, if that's what it takes to prevent your duel in the morning."

"What duel?"

"With the Prince."

"If I have an issue with my brother, I don't have to bring out a pistol to settle it. Who put this nonsense into your pretty head? By the way, you look most alluring this evening, Cyndi."

Suddenly my boiling emotions disappear. A sense of confusion and surprise replaces them. A moment later I realize that I heard the words alluring and Cyndi used in the same sentence. Had the King just called me alluring?

"Dowager Maggie told me you had spoiled Dora's evening and the Prince defended her honor by asking you to a duel in the morning."

"Did you see anything to that effect? Didn't you see the Prince and Dora dancing, with that outrageous pink flamingo beak bobbing above them. It is a wonder that anyone can keep a straight face. Of course, I can because I am the King and have had years of practice. But really, have you ever seen such a ludicrous thing?"

How did he do this to me? One moment I want to lash out at him and the next he has me smiling and laughing. "I know. But that was her request. She even insisted Tori wear something to match."

"But you know exactly what to wear and what to say and what to do. You come to the ball just when I have given up hope there will be any woman I would want to dance with and talk to. Just when I had given up hope, there you are. I have never seen a more beautiful woman than you, tonight."

I drop my chin and look down at my shimmering blue gown. I look back up and he suddenly takes me in his arms and we dance. His stride is graceful and he sweeps me across the smooth patio.

The columns are wound with lights. Wisteria softens the edges of the roofline, giving the space a natural and elegant grace. I inhale deeply the wisteria's perfume.

I am caged. His well developed shoulder and his strong arm lead my movements. I feel safe and secure enough to enjoy the moment.

The band plays something sexy and sultry. A Latin number that sets my hips swaying to the rhythm. His hands go to my hips, holding my attention but not holding back my movements. He is so close, I can feel his warm breath upon my forehead and I breathe in his presence. Brandy and a clean cedar scent. His hand twists my waist and his leg goes between mine as I step back along with him. His hand slides against my bare back until my belly is pressed against his hips. Swirling with the beat, moving as one in the dark warm evening, being lost in the moment is intoxicating.