Peter searched among the guests in the antechamber with an oakwood box in his hand. He was peering around bodies and over heads of the people waiting to have their entrance to the dining hall announced when someone bumped into him.
"Excuse me."
"Zoya!" He started up, his mild anxiety relieved. "There you are—You look...stunning!" Her dress had a sweetheart neckline, accented with gold thread, and capped sleeves, with long layers of gossamer draped over her arms, opening up and flowing long past her wrists. The same sheer crepe was draped from the Basque waistline, and opened slightly in the center, revealing some of the gold floral embroidery and hemline. The semi-full skirt had a slight chapel train.
"Although, I can't help but notice how lonely your sweet little neck looks," he observed teasingly. Zoya rolled her eyes.
"Cute, Peter," she rebutted. "What are you getting at?"
"Glenys told me you were wearing green, so I picked this out," he replied, indicating the box in his hands. "It's something of Susan's…it doesn't suit her—she never wears it." He opened the box revealing the long gold strings of draped, black pearls, accented at their crisscrosses by solitaire emeralds.
"I couldn't possibly," she protested.
"Please do," he insisted, even as he moved behind her to fasten it around her neck. "Best to get some use out of it don't you thing?"
"I'm going to loose it or something," she protested.
"I want you to keep it," he added.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly—"
"I wasn't sure if your ears were pierced, so I brought the matching earrings just in case," he continued, cutting her off, holding out a pair of teardrop, black pearl earrings.
"This is really too much," she reasoned didactically, taking the earrings from him. Peter shrugged.
"I'll see you inside," he told her friendlily. "You're sitting next to me at dinner."
"See you soon," she agreed as he hurried off to sneak back inside the dining hall.
The heralds at the grand door announced everyone's arrival in turn. Zoya was one of the last ones inside.
"And how may I introduce you?" The herald asked at the grand entranceway, draped with crimson gauze.
"Me?" Zoya looked surprised. "Uh…Zoya bint Tara—formerly of Ione." The herald scoffed.
"Can't you at least give me a challenge," he reasoned, before turning back to the dinner guests and announcing: "Presenting, the daughter of Tara—the daughter of the former countess of Ione, the pearl of the Great Eastern Ocean, lost treasure of the Seven Isles—Lady Zoya." Zoya's brow arched.
"You just made that up," she challenged. The herald shook his head.
"Whatever, just get in there," he instructed, pushing her past the gossamer curtain into the dinning hall.
The first hour or so was reserved for casual socializing and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres. Nobles were gathered around the dining hall and the antechamber leading into it as Zoya's entrance was announced. Peter could scarcely contain his laughter at the elaborate introduction, even as every head turned to Zoya's entrance.
Zoya paced carefully down the corridor, even as gazes quickly averted and whispers urgently hushed with her passing. She searched the crowd restlessly for a familiar face. She finally spotted a familiar faun among the masses of diplomats.
"Mr. Tumnus," she hissed softly, taking hold of his arm. "I don't understand. Why is everyone staring at me?"
"Because," replied Mr. Tumnus gently. "You look absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous…now you had better strut down there like you are queen of the world, or the Calormene nobility are going to eat you alive."
"I didn't know it was going to be so hard," Zoya admitted weakly, touching one hand to her brow. "This is not me…I don't think I can do this…"
"Of course you can," Mr. Tumnus reminded her. "All you have to do is sit back, relax, and let yourself be the talk of the party. C'mon, I'll take you." He offered her an arm and she gratefully took it and they made their way into the dining area.
Peter pulled Zoya's chair out for her as she approached.
"Here, have a seat a moment," he offered. She nodded gratefully, relinquishing her hold on Mr. Tumnus's arm, gathering up her skirts to take a seat. "This is for you," he offered her a small booklet on a string.
"What is it?" She asked curiously, going to flip through it.
"It's your dance card," he explained. "There's a line for every song they'll play tonight. You go around before the dance and all the men sign it so that they can dance with you. I've already signed it."
"Peter!" She laughed suddenly. "You've filled practically every other line!" Peter shrugged.
"I thought it was only fair to give the other men a chance," he teased lightly. Zoya suddenly felt the booklet being lifted out of her hand and turned to look over her shoulder to find Mr. Tumnus scribbling his name down on one of the lines. She smiled as he handed the small pamphlet back to her.
"Thank you," she began.
"Is that one Zoya's?" Edmund asked. "Let me sign it…If you don't mind, that is, Zoya." Her smile grew wider still.
"For you, Edmund, anything," she offered warmly as he scratched his name down with a small pencil.
"Where are Susan and Lucy?" Peter inquired of his younger brother.
"Just there," Edmund pointed to a group of ladies congregating in one corner.
"Well," Peter began, offering Zoya his arm. "Shall we?" Zoya let her eyes roll up into her head as she rose to her feet and linked her arm with his.
"Why not?" She reasoned cheerily. "I'm about as ready as I'll ever be."
Peter cleared his throat as they approached the group. The ladies gave one final lighthearted laugh before their conversation ended. A few of t he women gathered there covered their faces with delicate fans, hiding smiles and giggles.
"Hello ladies," Peter offered politely, and that was when Susan noticed the arm linked with her brother's, and the woman it was attached to. She blinked.
"Zoya?" Her tone was one of disbelief. "You look so… elegant." Zoya blushed.
"How many names do you have in your book, Zoya?" Lucy asked affably.
"Three so far," Zoya replied.
"Susan, what are you doing?" Edmund finally asked, noticing his sister holding her wrist under her nose.
"It's this perfume that Prince Rabadash gave me," she explained.
"He gave you perfume," Peter fumed, "Without asking me?" However, he was ignored.
"It smells so lovely, but I just can't figure out what it is," Susan elaborated.
"May I?" Zoya asked, reaching for Susan's wrist, Susan nodded, and Zoya leaned over to smell it.
"I know what that is," she announced immediately. "Patchouli—with a little rosewater, I think—it's said to be the ideal aphrodisiac because it stimulates relaxed feelings of fondness without inducing drowsiness." Susan's face blanched. Edmund stared at Zoya in shock.
"He's giving you aphrodisiacs!" Peter fumed. "That is it!"
"Peter calm down," Zoya urged gently. "It's probably just cultural." Peter would have none of it:
"First the jewelry and now this!"
"What jewelry?" Susan asked curiously. Peter's mouth hung half-open.
"Uh…never mind…" Peter fumbled unevenly.
"Hello ladies," a deep voice interrupted. "King Peter…King Edmund." They turned to find a pair of robust, dark-skinned, dark-haired men upon them.
"Prince Rabadash," (and presumably his guard or advisor) Peter's eyes narrowed.
"Queen Susan," the prince went on. "You look lovely this evening." He moved to kiss her hand. Susan's nose turned up ever so slightly even as Peter moved to take a step toward the man. Zoya put a hand on his chest to hold him back.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met," Rabadash offered, turning his sights on her. "Lady…"
"Zoya," she replied softly, her glance hard. Just then a pair of cornet players at the entrance of the hall sounded a fanfare.
"I do believe that's the signal for dinner," Peter offered, on edge. He once again took Zoya's arm and hurried back towards their seats at the dinner table.
Zoya sat beside Peter at the table and touched one of the pearls around her neck. Black pearls. Native to the coast of Calormen. She could accept charity. But she wouldn't be used as a landfill for the unwelcome gifts of Susan's contemptible suitors. And then Peter reached for her hand, and squeezed it gently.
"Everything alright," he questioned as they waited to be served. Zoya looked around the table. Something was missing.
"Where is Lady Oilell?" She questioned. "And the baron."
"I'm afraid the Duchess has developed a slight stomach flu," Peter offered. "As for Bearach, your guess it as good as mine." Zoya felt daunted a moment, but soon recovered.
Servants went around pouring fragrant honeyed wine into every glass and both Zoya and Peter ended up reaching for the gold cup between them at the same moment, his hand landing on top of hers. They smiled at one another before he gave her hand a little squeeze before withdrawing his hand to let her take a sip of wine.
"It's good," she observed handing the cup back to him. He laughed, taking a small sip.
"You're not trying that again are you?" He teased gently. "Because if I end up getting drunk again, Susan will absolutely flip her wig." Zoya laughed nervously.
"She knows I had something to do with that then?" She reasoned worriedly. Peter laughed.
"Oh, she suspects," he explained. Zoya clenched her jaw in a nervous frown. "But I think seeing you like this is beginning to reshape her opinion of you," he explained.
"How can you tell," she asked with genuine curiosity.
"Because," he whispered, leaning into her ear. "None of the gossip regarding the striking young woman on the king's arm this evening has involved a coryphée dancer from Galma." Zoya's expression turned pensive.
"You mean that none of these people know who I really am?" She made to confirm. Peter nodded. "And you don't think Susan's going to tell them?" He shook his head. Zoya smiled. "This could be fun," Zoya announced with an eager smile.
Dinner was served one course at a time. First came a light salad with fresh green lettuce, spinach, and a vinegar-lemon dressing. Then a rich onion soup with cheese and fresh bread was served. The following course consisted of chilled shrimp that had been caught along the coast earlier that day. The main course that evening was roasted lamb with a hazel-nut herb crust served with garlic herb-baked potatoes, mashed carrots with a caramel glaze, grilled peppers, and green bean casserole. Mint sorbet and fresh fruit followed. Then came apple-filled pasties with tea or coffee.
After the final course was cleared away people began to wander around and socialize once more, until the dance began. And although she stayed close to Peter the whole time, Zoya soon found herself the bell of the ball.