The prince thought the evening of his twenty-first birthday was turning into one of the best nights of his life. Being the only child of royalty, his coming of age was something to be celebrated in the most exuberant manner possible. The festivities had been going on for weeks, but they had culminated in this ball.
Everyone was dressed in their finest, including himself. His mother assured him that the pale blue outfit she’d commissioned for him looked wonderful with his platinum hair. He didn’t really care about such things, but he trusted her judgement, and his friends assured him that he looked very handsome.
He knew his parents wanted him to choose a bride. No one truly believed he could simply be sociable with so many women. He probably would up marrying one of them, once he could figure out how to pick one without feelings getting hurt. He felt that would be better than spending the rest of his life with a stranger, if he was never going to fall in love.
Of course, he would first have to convince everyone at court that he wasn’t practically betrothed to the lady Narissa. It irked him that his own actions had persuaded everyone that he was besotted with the girl. When he was in his right mind, he didn’t even like her very much. Something about her bothered him.
Yet if she was around, he found himself doing things he otherwise wouldn’t dream of. He found it hard to think straight, and he lost time while in her company. People laughed and told him he was just falling for her, but he knew that couldn’t be true.
Her presence was the only thing that could dampen his spirits, but he could hardly bar her from the party. His heart sank when she arrived, but could hardly be shocked she had come.
He sighed as Narissa advanced. She was wearing a gold dress that perfectly set off her luxuriant auburn hair and faultless complexion. The amber jewels at her throat matched her eyes. He always felt that he was looking at a portrait rather than a real woman. Something about her good looks seemed contrived.
“I have a birthday present for you,” she said, touching his arm. “Come and see.”
He wanted to politely decline. He had promised the next dance to better company. Yet he found himself following her across the hall. One of her servants was waiting by the main doors, staggering under the weight of the gift.
It was a large mirror, with a silver frame. Metallic representations of flowers and fruit decorated the corners. It was large enough to encase both Narissa and her companion from the waist up.
He was stunned to find that his hands had snaked around her slender hips. He couldn’t remember even doing that, much less actually wanting to. In fact, he was quite sure he didn’t want to be touching her like that. Yet he couldn’t seem to let her go.
“Don’t we look perfect together?” She said, pressing herself against him.
He almost agreed with her. They did look so lovely together. Staring at their reflection, he wanted to stay like that forever. He wanted to make her his queen, and give her everything she desired.
But something was terribly wrong. Those feelings weren’t his.
“No,” he said, stepping back.
“My love?”
“I can’t do this.”
He had to brush her hands away as she reached for him again. Now everyone was watching them. Was he really going to break this poor girl’s heart in front of all these people? Yet he had the strangest feeling that he had said these words before, many times, to no avail.
“I’m sorry. I don’t love you.
Her topaz gaze sharpened. “This was your last chance.”
“What?”He tried to back away, but she wouldn’t let him.
“I choose you to be my king. I could have picked anyone, but I wanted you. And this is how you repay me? By rejecting me?”
“I don’t...”
“Which of your strumpets do you like better?”
“This is between you and me,” he said, frowning. “Those girls are my friends.”
“But you cannot say that they are more beautiful than me.”Narissa stamped her delicate foot.
“Yes I can. You are very lovely, it’s true. But they will always be more appealing to me.”
Narissa grabbed his shoulders. He could feel her painted nails digging in to his skin. Her face twisted in rage. For once, the prince felt he was seeing her true nature.
“You regret this insult. I will make you pay for this humiliation for as long as we are together.”
Then she kissed him.
He couldn’t breathe. Something cold washed over him, and robbed him of his ability to think clearly. He fell to his knees as she broke away, and struggled to find enough strength to fight for air.
“What have you done to me?” he gasped.
She just laughed. He tried to call to the people around him. Why was no one trying to help? But his people stood frozen. He reached out to them, and realized he could no longer see his hands.
“Look here, my prince.”
He turned toward her voice and found his gaze caught by his own reflection in the silver mirror, looking as bright and vivid as ever. For a moment he was mesmerised by the play of light and shadow.
Then he realized he was now looking down at his own fading form crumpled on the ballroom floor, and he was forced to watch himself vanish. The witch laughed once more, and produced some sort of black cloth.
She threw it over the mirrors surface, and the prince could no longer see anything but darkness.
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