The Wind Dances Most Gracefully

Elle shifted uneasily in her heels, the shimmering fabric set around her waist swaying fluidly. A grand doorway towered before her, decorated with flowerless vines and weaved straws of wheat. Their rich scent hung sweetly in the air. Faint music floated through the passageway. Elle stilled herself, letting the notes mingle with the whispers of the trees. She exhaled, clenched her eyes shut, and plastered a smile on her face. Leaving the calming presence of nature behind her, she drifted through the doorway. 

Candles flickered in every direction, and the tiny flames crackled enthusiastically. Dresses whispered like ruffling leaves as the fabrics brushed against the floor. The smell of lavender and vanilla wafted through the air, tickling Elle’s nose. The small forest creatures, which often trailed after dryads in packs, chattered to each other across the room. 

Elle glided across the cold tiles, weaving between tables and pillars as gracefully as a spring breeze. Her skin prickled against the lingering stares of the other guests. Some whispered as she passed, murmuring to others about the Duke’s daughter, the girl whose face was never shown. 

“I hear she’s turned eighteen,” some said, the scent of champagne heavy on their breath already. The others would nod as if they knew. “She’s of marriageable age.” 

“Who will the duke choose?” they inquired. 

Each guest suggested a suitor, voices light but intentions hanging in the air as heavily as the pianist struck his keys. An acquaintance, a colleague, a cousin, a son. Elle’s hand was nothing but a stepping stool to power, after all, and what mattered in this world but power? 

Elle stopped at the table nearest the band, where the voices faded into a dull chord hidden in the music. A chirping bird settled on her shoulder. Unconsciously, her fingers—adorned with various gold rings and shimmering stones—began drumming the beat of the music against the table. The sound was muffled by the thick tablecloth. 

“You’re here,” a voice said by her ear. It was low and smooth, and delightfully familiar. 

“Adrian,” Elle greeted quietly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The bird perched on her shoulder chirped once more, then flew away, stirring Elle’s hair with a few beats of its wings. 

“You do know how to make a memorable entrance,” Adrian commented, lowering himself into the chair beside Elle. He studied her tapping fingers as he hummed softly to the cello’s melody. 

Elle reached up to touch her blushing cheek, but her fingertips met the cold porcelain of her mask instead. She traced the raised swirls of gold down her jawline then let her hand fall back to the table, resuming its comforting rhythm. “There are far too many whispers in this room,” she replied. 

Adrian tilted his head. “As beautiful as you are,” he began, letting the words linger for an extra second, “not all of them are for you, love.” He took her hand and gently pressed the stem of a wine glass between her fingers. Elle nodded gratefully and sipped the wine. 

“Pear?” she said.

“Apple, maybe,” Adrian answered. He swirled the golden liquid in his glass disinterestedly. The wine was magnificent, but he had tasted too many drops before to be impressed. 

The music changed. Violins subdued the piano, increasing the tempo until the melody resembled a common, upbeat folk song. Voices around the room rose in excitement. The sound of tinkling wine glasses filled the air as the guests toasted, then set the glasses down to join those on the dance floor. The forest creatures scattered to the corners of the room.

“Shall we dance?” Adrian asked, taking Elle’s glass. 

Elle shook her head. “They’ll all stare.”

Adrian stood, then leaned down to Elle’s level. His breath brushed her neck. “Let them.”

Elle hesitated, but only for a second. Adrian’s warm hand on her shoulder was too inviting to resist. She rose, letting him guide her to the edge of the floor. For a moment, they simply swayed. Adrian took up the underlying melody with a low hum again, soothing Elle’s anxious mind. She began to tap the rhythm against his back, pulling him into the flowing routine that accompanied the song. Soon the partners had joined the others in the spinning pattern of the dance, painting flower petals on the floor to welcome spring. 

The music swelled, and Adrian leaned forward to whisper to Elle. “I’ll await your return,” he said playfully, releasing her waist. Elle spun into the arms of another partner, continuing the dance. Her body stiffened against the stranger’s touch. 

“Your Grace,” the stranger said, referring to Elle’s title. Something about his voice reminded her of a snake. It sounded slimy and thick, stained with secrecy. 

“Hello,” she said politely. A tiny, elegant smile played on her lips, but behind her mask, her eyes held no light. Her fingers twitched restlessly on the shoulders of her new partner. 

“Lovely night, isn’t it?” he murmured. He gripped Elle’s waist just a little too roughly, and she flinched away from his hold. They spun across the floor together as the speed of the music began to pick up, signaling the last chorus. She could feel his diamond-shaped family ring digging into her side. His father must be a knight. They were always starved for power. 

Elle silently appreciated the mask shrouding her face. It was better to be a mystery than an object, better to be a silent dance partner than a tool used as a step up to nobility. Sometimes the glossy porcelain was more comfortable than her own skin. 

As the music died down, returning to a smooth refrain on the piano, each man released their partner to return to their original company. Elle’s partner called to her as she spun away. “I’ll await your return, your Grace.” The words sank deep into Elle’s belly, unnerving her in a way Adrian’s voice never could. 

“Did you have fun?” Adrian teased, announcing his presence. Elle turned to him, chewing on her bottom lip unhappily. Adrian took her hand and led her back to their table beside the stage. “Shame,” he said. “I enjoyed dancing with you, as always.”

Elle nodded, trying to shake the man’s ugly voice out of her head. “I did too.”

The time passed in measures of songs. Elle’s hands longed for her piano more and more after each strain of music, her fingers constantly tapping, twirling over and under each other nervously. They fumbled with each glass of wine she accepted from Adrian, until finally, they forgot the cool sensation of keys long enough to settle in her lap. 

The night wore on, and the low chord of voices increased to a dull rumble with the wine. Alcohol replaced the scent of lavender, leaving every guest’s cheeks tinted pink and smiles drawn lazily across their faces. Even the birds were drowsy with content. 

 Adrian’s glass remained untouched. He watched Elle carefully, correcting her glass when she came close to spilling, steadying her by the elbow when she stumbled. He watched as she came to life with the warmth of wine on her breath, a flower that only bloomed late at night. Elle’s porcelain mask no longer fit her demeanor--to Adrian, Elle was no mystery. She soaked in the freedom his company allowed. 

The pianist announced the last song of the night. Cheers arose throughout the ballroom as each guest found their partner and flooded the floor. Adrian brought Elle to the edge again, twirling her from arm to arm as the music started. Elle clung to Adrian’s shoulders, dizzy with delight. Music intoxicated her more than wine ever could. They spun across the floor, weaving in and out of the space between other dancers. Each guest knew the routine by heart. For a few sweet moments, Elle was just another dancer drawing swirling vines on the floor. Neither the mask shrouding her face nor the diamond-encrusted family seal on her finger meant anything while the music played. 

“Goodbye,” Elle giggled as Adrian let go of her. She spun to the next partner. 

“Oh,” Elle’s new partner began. “Fortuna must be smiling on me tonight.”

Elle froze, missing a beat in the dance. This was the same wretched voice, huskier than before and just as contemptible. The ring on his finger was a thorn in her side.

Elle smiled carefully. “We meet again, I see.” She picked up the routine, falling back into the familiar pattern of twirls. It was just one more chorus, a few more measures before the dance would end and she would return to Adrian. Stay quiet, she reminded herself. You are a faceless shadow.  

Her heart leaped to her throat as her partner’s grip tightened. “Because luck seems to be on my side, I suppose I’ll be venturesome,” he murmured. The music began to descend into a simple melody, reaching its end. “Would you see me tonight, your Grace?” His words were punctuated by the abrupt end of the song. 

“No.” The word flew from Elle’s lips and landed flatly on the man’s ears. She jerked her hands away from him. 

“Come now,” he murmured, tugging on her wrist. “Let me see beneath this.” He tapped a fingernail against Elle’s mask. 

Elle ripped her hand away from him, refusing to let him take the one thing she knew he wanted. “I won’t.” 

Just as violently as Elle had torn her hand from his grip, the man tore her mask from her face. The delicate porcelain shattered on the floor with a resounding echo. The room fell silent, and Elle felt hundreds of eyes turn on her. She shrunk away from the stares, trying to make herself smaller. 

“I’ll let everyone see, then,” he hissed. “Secrecy is no game, your Grace.”

Elle’s hands lay limp by her side. She blinked slowly. No amount of shouting would calm the rising anger or shame in her chest. All she could do was stand and be looked at. 

“She’s blind,” a voice said, rising through the silence. Murmurs rose like ocean waves, breaking the stillness in the air. Elle closed her clouded blue eyes. 

The blind. The deaf. The mute. The imperfect. The flawed, the broken.

There was no room for them in this society. No room for Elle. 

Adrian was at her side again. He squeezed her hand, humming quietly so she would recognize him. “Stand tall, love,” he whispered. The same bird from earlier perched on Elle’s shoulder with its feathers ruffled.

“I don’t know how,” Elle replied, her voice breaking. She opened her eyes, still engulfed in darkness. She had cursed this never-ending midnight so many times before. Now, more than ever, she hated it. How could the girl dressed in gold not know what wealth looked like? They would say it wasn’t fair. Dirty, tainted, ruined…how could that have what they could not?

“You do,” Adrian promised. He let go of her hand, leaving her to stand alone. 

Elle closed her eyes again and inhaled. “I know you are all staring,” she said, her voice quiet. The whispers rose in volume. “You are always staring.” Elle’s volume rose too.

“You are damaged!” someone cried. The crowd fell silent again. 

Elle straightened her posture and tilted her chin up. “Yes. Yet you all want me, don’t you? You barter for my life, betting on who I will belong to. Now you know your precious object is broken.”

Another voice rang out. “The gods left you unfinished. Why do you stand here, in our ballroom, wearing our silks, undone?” 

“We gather here to welcome spring,” Adrian suddenly reminded the guests. “Nature is unfinished, yet you are celebrating its unpolished state. Are your minds hazy with wine? Remember to whom you are speaking.” 

“Even the Duke’s daughter has no standing if she is one of the gods’ castaways. She does not belong here.” 

The guests chorused mumbles of agreement. The word “belong” echoed off the pillars, off the tall ceiling, off the shining walls. It left the pungent taste of indignity on Elle’s tongue. 

She gave them a memorable entrance. Now let her give them an unforgettable exit. “I belong in nobody’s home. I belong to no one,” she stated, her voice ringing through the storm cloud-silent room. 

Elle stepped forward. Her shoe fell on a shard of her mask. “Remember me as damaged,” she said. She lifted her dress and pressed her heel into the floor, breaking the porcelain to pieces. “And remember yourselves as power-hungry animals.”

Then she was gone, the gentle spring breeze now a powerful gust of wind. Her family ring clattered to the floor behind her. Shocked, a violinist struck a flat chord. Just outside the ballroom, amid a field of closed buds, the first flower of spring bloomed.