The memory of stepping up on to the dais for the royal family kept replaying in his head. He'd been so happy-so, so, so happy.
He was finally going to introduce the girl that he loved to the court. To his kingdom, his people. His family.
He was welcomed on stage by his father's chief advisor, who was charged with overseeing the court. "And now," the man called, "the Crown Prince, Sky, with a few words to open up this evening's festivities!"
Sky shook the advisor's hand, thanked him. He turned to the crowd as the man stepped around him to stand next to the King. "Thank you all for coming!" He paused as the crowd cheered-he could've kept talking, but they wouldn't have heard him anyway. It was the ball that celebrated his being the Crown Prince-his true and proper introduction as the heir-and the party was just getting started. That was good, in a lot of ways, and it meant that the kingdom were proud to see him when they looked toward the future.
That thought made him stand up a little straighter. A more even note of confidence came into his voice.
He met Bloom's eyes in the crowd, smiled-and it was just for her, only ever for her, but there were more cheers from the crowd. Brandon's voice echoed in his mind: "Oh, please-the girls are really going to love you!"
And then the world seemed to fall out from underneath his feet.
Sky was speaking, but he wasn't sure what he was saying. His voice echoed in his ears, which had started ringing on top of that, and his vision was fuzzy. What the-?
He couldn't finish his own thought, though, because a sudden wave of nausea rolled over him. The words kept coming, though, and then-
And then Diaspro-Diaspro? Where did she come from?-was walking up on stage next to him, and there was Bloom's fiery bright red hair across the room-
What had he said?
He realized, after the party, after he'd watched the rest of the Winx all but drag Bloom from the ballroom, that it had been the result of a spell.
He'd seen her. Crying. Tears running down her face, messing up the makeup that Stella had painstakingly applied that morning. She looked so surprised, so caught off guard. All Sky could think about was what she looked like when she was mad-her face would turn bright pink when they had stupid fights, when she was really mad, but then...
She was just pale. Like someone had drained all the color from her face. All the fire, all the power, that she was... And the tears were just running down her face.
It had been as if his feet were literally rooted to the floor. Sky had wanted more than anything to go to her, to wrap his arms around her, to tell her that he loved her and whatever he'd said-because he still hadn't been sure, even after Diaspro had led him from the stage like a child-wasn't him, wasn't real. Wasn't what he meant. Wasn't what he wanted. His body wasn't cooperating with him, though. No matter what he wanted-to step a certain way, to yank his arm from Diaspro's grasp, to order someone to arrest her-his body was no longer obeying him.
And yet... No one had noticed. He'd laughed at jokes he hadn't heard, talked about the things he wanted to do first after his coronation (what had come out of his mouth was not his agenda, no-it was Diaspro's), and told stories about the budding relationship between him and the blonde sorceress that had never happened. Her magic was good, though, because not one of the party's guests-not one of his own men-had become aware of the panic developing inside him. That he'd said he was in love with the wrong girl. That he'd broken the right girl's heart. Something clenched in his chest whenever the look on Bloom's face crept back into his mind.
It was much worse than that, though, because if no one noticed... How was he supposed to break the spell when he couldn't even walk the way he wanted?
·§·§·§·
Immediately after the ball, Diaspro had slid her arm through his and led him to a room upstairs in the palace.
He recognized it as a waiting room for visiting diplomats that needed to meet with his father or another member of the court or the Council. There were plenty of couches and small end tables bearing water jugs and glasses around the room. The jugs were only filled when the chief of staff scheduled the room for something, though. How long has she been planning this?
The blonde suddenly turned, shoving him backwards. He fell onto the couch clumsily, but found that he was able to right himself. Just barely, because he was still so dizzy, but it was enough. Maybe he could even-"What do you think you're doing?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them.
"I'm getting what I want." The smile on her face was the one she'd given him since he'd met her so many years ago. He'd always thought it made her look polite. Now that the fogginess had began to recede from his mind, he thought it made her look predatory.
A graceful animal bearing her teeth.
"What is it that you want?" So she could take over his facilities when she wanted, then. He kept making mental notes, if only to keep himself calm enough to think. His mind would become foggy when he lost control.
"I was supposed to marry you, Sky, and I plan on doing it."
The prince shook his head. "I don't love you." He didn't say it to be cruel-it was a fact. And he'd always felt awful for ending their betrothal that way, but he wanted to marry someone he loved. And that just wasn't her.
It seemed to be the wrong response, though, because her eyes became razor sharp. "So? People like us don't have the luxury of getting what we love. Better you figure that out now." Her gaze flicked to the door, then back to him. "If love is what you want..."
Oh, no. What did I-? What is that supposed to-?
His train of thought was cut off when she finished her sentence. "Stay here. If anyone comes in, we were in here looking for some peace and quiet, but I left to go talk to my parents, and should be right back. Tell them to leave you alone."
Sky could feel her words locking in his mind-he didn't feel any different, but he knew without a doubt that if anyone came in here, he would follow her instructions to the letter whether or not he wanted to. He literally wouldn't be able to stop himself.
At one point, he'd done (and led) drills with his team from Red Fountain-flown entire airships within actual feet of a mountain-and his hands had never trembled.
Now, he felt like he was going to throw up, and if Diaspro hadn't been in such control of his reflexes-he was sure that his composure was entirely her doing-he was positive that he would've been shaking.
It was an alarming thought. A terrible feeling. A new feeling, and one he didn't like.
Another thought popped into his head. Where is she going? Fear as cold as ice shot up his spine. "What are you going to-?"
"You said that you wanted to marry for love, didn't you?" Something cruel flashed across her face. She stood up straighter. "That can be arranged."
