Chapitre 16: Chapter Sixteen

Anita was a little overwhelmed by the scene before her. Everybody was taller than her, and everybody was overwhelmingly pretty or colourful. Even the men, their suits weren't the classic black or white; there were blue ones, red ones, green ones and yellow ones. Everybody had headpieces, ranging from flowers for the girls to hats with ribbons for the boys, either perched on their heads like a peacock's statement or resting in their hands at hip height.

It was a ballroom with a white ground and matching walls, giant windows that stretched almost to the ceiling, matching up to the chandelier which was made of crystals and flawless glass. With the light, the whole room had different sparkles on the ground, but overall gave off a tender purple and clean white. People chattered softly, everybody seemed to be having a good time. There were two giant glass doors that opened outwards and allowed one to go outside to the balcony to witness the star-filled sky or the dew dropped garden.

Upon seeing the people, Anita suddenly felt wary as she ducked behind Raphael, holding fistfuls of his coat as they slowly stepped forwards. The two were in a line approaching the grand ballroom where the main festivities were to be had.

The chattering irritated Anita. She could hear so many quiet conversations yet had no clue what anyone spoke about. But a loud voice boomed, declaring a name that echoed over the classical music being frolicked about the room.

It jarred her as she clutched Raphael tighter. "What was that?"

"Madame Meredith and Sir Henry Williams!" the voice avowed.

"That's the man over there," Raphael informed pointing subtly at a man at the start of the line. He was projecting his voice out of the balcony to all the patrons on the main floor below. "The one who looks like a butler."

And to put simply he did, his hair was smoothed and well-oiled with hair gel, he had straight posture, was a very clean looking gentleman and seemed to be black and white. Everything about him was precise and well presented.

"What's he doing?" Anita questioned.

Raphael explained how at certain functions someone would announce the people as they came. "In Royalty, it's like a roll call. They're called Herald of Arms, he announces everyone who comes to the ball."

Anita frowned, "Seems pretentious."

"They wouldn't know any better. He's gonna call our names out too."

Anita gulped at the mention of this. She heard the mutter of women behind her, unlike the other chatter, she recognised they were talking about her. She glanced over her shoulder, watching them chittering about how cute but 'out of place' the 'poor girl seemed.' They knew she wasn't a Princess or a Duchess child, even went as far to call her a 'vermin child' and wonder how she even got past the gates.

"Excuse me, ladies," Raphael said, cutting the women off, "I don't mean to be rude, but your words are actually quite unladylike, and downright insolent. I'm sure you don't mean to be, but now you each sound like gossiping hags." Both women were speechless, barely managing a gasp as a protest. "You two were making fun of my friend, and I'm sure she finds those words very hurtful just as you probably find my words hurtful. I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop."

Anita was stunned, looking between Raphael and the ladies. Unlike most, Raphael held eye contact, forcing them to endure the uncomfortable tension he created. He took Anita's hand and continued walking down the line, finally releasing them of his glare.

He smiled, "You don't have to put up with that."

Anita gave an absent half-smile as she cluelessly walked forwards.

"Sir Arthur Michael and Lady Rowena," the voice rang out.

A pang of panic rose in Anita as she tugged on Raphael's sleeve. "What's my last name, Ralphie?!"

He placed a gentle hand on the top of her head to silence her worry as he approached the Herald and spoke softly into his ear.

��Raphael and Anita Dane!"

Anita felt a strange flurry form in the put of her stomach. No one else at the party seemed to care, but that last name meant more to Anita than Raphael realised.

Raphael carefully walked down the stairs, sudden paranoia resided over him at being in the presence of Royalty or friends of Royalty. A part of him wanted to cast doubt, list every possible thing wrong with his attire, not speak a word in fear of saying something wrong, but at the same time, he did not want to appear stand-offish.

Anita was close behind him, in a similar state as her eyes darted around the room. Raphael inhaled deeply, closed his eyes to compose himself, and listened.

Everything appeared louder when he listened, but also allowed greater detail for him. He was able to find the music, the classical instruments as they softly drone out notes to fill the air, amongst the chitter-chatter of people who discussed politics or exchanged gossip. He had never heard a ballroom before.

He smiled as he opened his eyes and examined the architecture to distract himself. On the ceiling, amongst the glass chandelier, were extravagant artworks of heaven etched with woven vines, delicate flowers and realistic clouds. The ceiling seemed dedicated to presenting the glass hanging in the centre.

Raphael suddenly felt better, but immediately noticed Anita's nervousness.

He stooped to her, attempting to distract her by fixing her hair and speaking random phrases he knew she wasn't listening to. "… You know the Mona Lisa?"

Anita gulped, nodding.

"It was painted by Leonardo da Vinci using oil paints, and has been argued for decades as to who the subject may have been."

"How can't people know who Mona Lisa is?"

"Her name wasn't Mona Lisa, not necessarily. Sometimes artists are a bit strange with their names, Ann. Some have names that make sense such as A Family Meal by Evert Pieter, or A Peasant Woman Digging In Front Of Her Cottage from Vincent Var Gogh. But then you have others, such as Tea in the Countryside or Enfant de l'hiver where you need to understand the story to understand the painting." Raphael stopped fussing with Anita's hair, knowing he now had her attention. "For Mona Lisa, many believe it's of Lisa Gherardini, the wife of Francesco del Giocondo."

"I don't know who that is," Anita said.

"Not a lot of people do," Raphael agreed. "Mona is like Ma'am or Madam in Italian, making the proper translation; Madam Lisa, which?"

Anita thought for a moment before replying, "Makes the belief of Lisa Gherardini being the subject more realistic."

Raphael tapped her on the nose, "You got it, Ann." Anita couldn't contain her smile. "Are you alright now?"

Anita's smile lessened, but she nodded. "Yes."

The thief gave a nod back. "Good. Try not to stress yourself. We've got a job to do, yes, but this is also a Royal Ball. Let's have some fun first, okay? Mingle a bit."

Anita sighed but nodded, ��Alright."

"Good girl." Raphael kissed the top of her head. "I'm going to see if I can find Maria amongst all this." He held her face in his hand before rising and walking amongst the people. Looking back, he saw her go towards the food table.

The ballroom was large and somehow packed with dozens of couples waltzing at its centre with dozens more standing on the edge observing or eating. Raphael skimmed the walls, eventually finding a pair of red thrones looking out to all the patrons. Currently, they were empty.

Raphael assumed the Queen would make an entrance to sit there.

He stood on the edge looking in. Traditional dances always caused the dullest expressions from people. Raphael rested his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief at how boring everyone was making such a graceful dance by sheer expression.

Maria caught his eye, across the room being spoken to by a bunch of well-dressed adults.

'I'm feeling a tad lazy,' he thought looking at the distance he had to walk if he went around, 'Going through is quicker.'

Raphael folded his arms as he analysed the dance. 'It would be very rude of me to just walk through.'

He looked to the people around him and gently tapped a silent woman wearing a purple gown.

"Voulez-vous me faire l'honneur de danser avec moi, Mademoiselle," Raphael dropped his head to a bow and held a hand out for her to take.

At the question, she blushed, flattered as she gave a glance to one of her lady-friends and took his hand. Raphael gave her a twirl before guiding her to the floor and waltzing with her. The pair slotted into the other couples and made their way across the room, aside from a small laugh and compliments on one another's dancing, Raphael and the girl focused on the dance until he made it to the other side of the room. She was quickly snatched up by another.

Raphael wondered how long it would take for Maria to notice him. She appeared apathetic to the conversation around her, none appearing to be speaking with her. Her shoulders rose and sank as she sighed and absently stared out the nearest window. Eventually, her eyes wandered, and she saw Raphael, new energy coming to her.

Raphael took off his hat and struck a pose to make her laugh, he was successful.

She made a motion to dismiss herself and approached him, still holding her violin case.

"Raphael!" she placed the case on the ground and embraced him, "I'm so glad you could make it."

Raphael caught her hug, the pair swaying while they laughed.

"Wouldn't miss it," he pulled away, taking time to acknowledge her blue dress and all the out of place accessories. He blinked, "Wow…"

She looked down at her dress and grunted, "Please ignore my outfit."

"No, it looks good…" Raphael assured, he pressed a hand to his mouth to hide the growing smirk and shook his head. "What happened to it?"

"The blue and lace is the dress, everything else is the nuns doing," Maria explained, "And you have no idea how itchy my hair is right now." Despite her words, her fingers delicately scratched between pearls.

Raphael glanced to the people she had just left. They appeared very serious. "Friends of yours?"

Maria looked back to them, prompting a wave from a tall gentleman, whom she waved back to. "That man there turns out to be my temporary Guardian during this ball," she looked back to Raphael, "He's a Royal Guardian."

Raphael tilted his head, furrowing his brows as he took in the tall aristocrat. "Handsome," he admitted, "And young, how is he part of the Royal Staff at that age?"

Maria took his hand and tugged him, "I'll explain during a dance, come on."

Raphael smirked as he followed Maria back to the ballroom floor. There was a slight music shift, indicating the next dance; the quadrille.

Raphael never liked this dance, aside from the boorish music it only succeeded in further draining the life from the people who participated. The only upside he found was you were allowed to talk during it still, which Maria happily obliged to do.

"Raphael? Do you ever tire of the quadrille?" she asked.

Raphael held both her hand and the hand of another woman as they stepped. "At times, yeah." Raphael looked down to her feet, her steps weren't as sure as the girl on his other side. He handed her off and rested his hand on Maria's hip as they circled the group, "Do you dance in your town?"

Maria sighed, catching her shawl before it slipped off her elbows. "We do. But certainly not this official," Maria said, "Everything is just random, fun even. Everyone knew everyone, so all the dances were just fun."

"What kinds of dances do you do?" Raphael asked.

"A lot of them don't have proper names," Maria informed as the pair gently twirled, "We largely named them after people in the town. Like one summer, Erica Maurice learnt a dance from the natives and taught the whole town by dancing it in the square. We called it The Maurice."

Raphael chuckled, "What does it look like?"

"Lots of twirling," Maria said, "Before I left Riley Smith was getting his own dance named after him. But he's a light-footed boy, so I doubt some of the older folks would be able to do them. He enjoys flipping and cartwheels."

"Sounds like my kind of guy."

"You'd like him, a proper gentleman."

The music started to slow, signalling the end of the dance. All the couples bowed their heads or curtsied in their dresses. Immediately following, a slower, cheery song erupted from the string instruments. The sudden change in tone prompted mutters amongst the guests. Maria gasped at the song and giggled as she swayed on the spot.

Raphael smiled as she danced on the spot before grabbing her hand and twirling her, pulling her close, "Dance with me, Maria."

Anita could smell the food before she could see it. Everything on one side of the table reeked of fish and cheese. She approached and peered at some of the platters, finding some of the appetisers highly unappealing. But she watched as person after person grabbed a mouth-sized food and plopped it in their mouth, at times complimenting the exquisite taste.

Anita barely managed to withhold her gags.

She wanted to know what some of these dishes were and scanned the room in search of Raphael.

She saw him the moment the music changed, the tempo shifting to be joyful. She heard Raphael's voice amongst the mutters and watched as he danced with Maria. At first, Anita didn't mind, in fact she found it quite sweet, but watched as their demeanours changed.

Raphael held Maria close and she rested her head against his shoulder, the pair using one another to influence their moves. Moments later, Maria held him tightly.

Anita felt something in her chest ache, the feeling spreading to the nerves in her fingertips. This effect caused her knees to tremble and her lip twitched upwards randomly in her attempt to suppress her sudden urge to cry. She clenched and unclenched her hands, hoping for feeling to return to her hands but only succeeded in sending the discomfort up her arms.

Anita swallowed a lump in her throat as she turned her attention back to the food. She saw a small stack of sandwiches in the centre of the table, amongst the odd prawn dishes and strange bowls of caviar. She couldn't reach the sandwich platter due to her height. She attempted to reach for it, her fingertips barely scraped the silver edge of the plate, but her sleeves almost rested in bowls of light brown broth.

She grunted as she made a different attempt, almost using the white tablecloth to pull herself further onto the table.

Suddenly someone, a little taller than herself, reached forwards and picked the tray right off the table. Anita turned to look at the person who took the tray, noting it was a young boy, a little older than herself, dressed in a puffy blue and pink suit. She watched as he fitted a small sandwich into his mouth while he stared at her.

Anita didn't know exactly what to say to people when she was forced into a one on one situation. She froze up and was only able to stare back at him as he fitted another sandwich into his mouth in silence. He chewed with his mouth open, allowing Anita to see the mushed-up goop that was once a sandwich. Anita grimaced at the sight of his manners. Her silence seemed to annoy the boy as, with half a mouthful, he said, "Are you dumb?"

Anita was dumbfounded by such a question. "Pardon?"

"Oh, so you can talk." He swallowed the rest of the sandwich.

"Of course, I can talk," Anita replied, her voice laced with salt.

"How was I supposed to know? You were staring at me like a dumb person," he informed eating another sandwich in one bite.

Anita hid her fists behind her back as she attempted to maintain a level tone.

"No. I was staring because of your incredible lack of manners. I was obvious trying to grab those." Her words made the boy cough in surprise, he nearly dropped the sandwich tray.

Anita sighed through her nose and folded her arms. Instead of countering with words, the boy ate another sandwich. It was bad enough he had taken the sandwiches she was trying to get, but he wasn't even running away with them, he was eating them in front of her.

Eventually, he said, "Oh I'm sorry, did you want one?" He held one out to her.

Anita's eyes twitched, suddenly unsure what the social situation was. 'Hadn't I just said I was reaching for those?'

She cautiously went to take the sandwich, only to have it pulled away from her. "Then it's too bad your short," he teased.

Anita retracted her hand and stared at him for a moment longer in silence. She watched as he ate those sandwiches and wouldn't share, and continued to tease her about her height and laugh at her with his mouth full.

Anita gave a battle cry as she tackled him, sending them both to the ground and the sandwiches clattering everywhere with the tray. One and all jumped in surprise by this and soon everybody's attention was on the fighting children.

Anita mounted his stomach and started scratching at his face, pushing past his flailing hands to punch him.