The Midsummer Night's Ball
Part 6. Melisante's Story
Melisante Erewan had taken her place on the veranda opposite of the staircase to get a clear view of Princess Carnelia’s entrance. Not surprisingly, she found that that the others were also drawn to that vantage point. She recognized Carmina de Belcadiz with Robert Beaumarys-Moorkroft, Ysabel de Fedorias (who was rumored to have a Krondaharan lover), and Esmeralda de Belcadiz y Erewan (who was obviously here without her husband’s knowledge).
The three Belcadizan ladies were giving her suspicious looks. It was not everyday that they saw a fair Erewan elf with and outrageously dyed coiffure wearing an abominable Belcadizan vestida of uncharacteristic shades of gold and green, mingling with the highest of Belcadizan high society.
But Melisante calculatedly disarmed them with a giddy toothy smile and a melodious greeting in the broken Belcadizan dialect (“¡Boo-wey-nowz dee-yaz, sen-yow-ree-taz! Tee-hee-hee!”).
The Belcadizans couldn’t help but dismiss her as a pretentious frivolous fop. Doña Esmeralda even whispered to Doña Ysabel in Belcadizan, “It was for idiots like her that they came up with the idiom, ‘raised in Erewan’.”
Thus they ignored Melisante (not knowing she heard and understood every word!), who was then left in peace to watch the arrival of the hostess.
Princesa Carnelia appeared in a fabulous dress of black and red—a picture of classical Belcadizan beauty. She descended the stairs with her three dueñas following behind, as eager and admiring faces were looking up at her, raising their glasses in cheer, applauding politely, praising her for the splendid festival that was already taking place.
Doña Carnelia announced the dancing should begin, and the music was struck up, as the Princess of Belcadiz made her rounds, greeting each guest and dignitary (and occasionally snubbing one or another). Those who were more interested in the dancing, or knew they were too unimportant to deserve notice from La Princesa, had taken the floor.
The spirits were high. The dancing was lively. A flamenco, followed by fandango or two, then a classical Glantrian waltz for the less vigorous dancers.
From the veranda, Melisante could observe the actions of the crowd, who was dancing with whom, who was avoiding whom, who was flirting with whom.
Melisante noticed a handsome uniformed man (a military wizard from Aalban, Melisante surmised) stumble in clumsily from the outside balcony, minutes after having been the dancing partner of Baroness Szasza Markovitch. He was clutching the side of his neck, as if pained.
Melisante saw Noussoir du Marais make a hasty exit with Princess Dolores Hillsbury upon the arrival of the stunning Dame Diane de Moriamis (who arrived in a Belcadizan vestida which flatteringly displayed her voluptuous figure). Her husband (in name only, as Melisante heard), Prince Malachie du Marais was not with her, but Noussoir and Princess Dolores were not there to realize that.
Even Melisante’s companions at the veranda were not beyond her scrutiny. Melisante’s mental questions as to why Doña Carmina seemed to be so aloof to her companion (and present lover, so they say), Sir Robert, were answered, when Melisante saw what seemed to be Carmina’s twin sister, Blanca (wearing the same vestida but in white instead of red), arrive at the dance and cavort seductively with both Prince Urmahid Krinagar and Don Fernando de Casanegra.
Melisante also noticed that Doña Ysabel had disappeared from her place at the veranda, and moments later, an elven pageboy came up to young Prince Ralindi Virayana, who left the ballroom in a huff.
“Yes, yes, yes...” Melisante said softly to herself in her normal voice, octaves below the put-on shrill tones people are familiar with. “That is very interesting...”
It was Melisante who first noticed the change in the crowd. The music had changed into a lively jota, and two conspicuous figures moved to the center of the ballroom. The couple was a peculiar pairing—a Belcadizan lady and a Krondaharan gentleman—but they seemed perfectly matched for each other, in every move and every step.
On closer observation, Melisante noticed that the lady was not a Belcadizan elf, but rather a statuesque human woman in a scarlet vestida, not unlike those of the other Belcadizan ladies. Her midnight-black hair, adorned with a single red rose, bobbed gracefully with each graceful step. Her dress had glittering sequins and intricate lace, and when she swirled and her skirts whirled up around her, she seemed like a perfect rose in full bloom. Melisante was not sure if it was some illusion or other, but flashes of red that seemed to be flying off from her dress appeared to be rose petals.
Melisante could not stare at the scarlet beauty for long, because her partner seemed to command attention as well. He was tall and noble, and undoubtedly handsome—perhaps the most perfect specimen of an Ethengar man Melisante had even seen. He had long dark-brown hair, tied back in a bow, which seemed to shimmer with a golden sheen. His suit was the traditional Krondaharan costume for men, except it was made of gold thread.
“Not even the Golden Khan of Ethengar himself would have such marvelous clothes,” Melisante whispered to herself in awe and reverence.
At that point, Melisante was able to look at the crowd, who had all fallen back and, like her, watched entranced at the divine couple. Melisante spied Princess Carnelia also observing the dancers in rapt admiration.
The man in gold matched the lady in red movement for every graceful movement. Their smooth and flawless choreography indicated that they were intimately familiar with each other, in action, in body, in mind, and—as Melisante believed—in soul.
But the couple’s familiarity did not show any routine or roteness. In fact, the lovers—for surely, they were lovers—danced with such passion and excitement, the whole ballroom seemed to become hot and heated.
Melisante noted the change in the air, the heat, the glow, and the heady scent of roses. The music of the jota also changed, becoming faster and faster, almost frenzied in its exhilarating tempo.
What happened next, Melisante clearly witnessed from her vantage point. As the lovers’ dance became more passionate and fierier, the couple seemed to glow a golden yellow light. When the audience began to squint and shield their eyes, Melisante saw that the pair was definitely glowing and shining, as radiant as the sun itself. The music reached fever pitch. The scent of roses in the heated air was intoxicating. And the couple was dancing at a dizzying pace as no mortals could have danced.
Melisante had to turn away as the golden light threatened to blind her. Even with the magic of her seeing spells, she could not look at the dancers directly. but knew in every iota of her being she was in the presence of something divine.
Then, as the jota climaxed, and the light engulfed them like a miniature sun, the music stopped and the light flashed out. Melisante, the guests, and even Princess Carnelia stood a moment or two in confusion, as they regained their composure and their eyesight.
The shadows of the Midsummer’s Night had returned. In the center of the ballroom was an empty space, where the lovers had danced their dance.
They were gone.
Melisante noticed that only a swirl of rose petals was left on the ballroom floor, and a faint scent of sweet roses lingered in the air.
