It was late, nearing midnight. Clean, stomach full, bandaged, and feeling reinvigorated, Eva wandered out of the servants' side of the palace and found herself standing once again in the entrance hall.

The floor was of the finest red Azurran tile, the walls affrescate. Two sets of ebony staircases trailed up opposing walls, meeting two levels up at a landing. Carved doors lined both the landing and the main floor, leading off to the rest of the palace, but Eva only had eyes for the double doorway at the end of the wide hall: the ballroom.

Eva started towards the doors, then stopped herself. The white uniform which she now wore was nothing like the ballgown in which she had had her first encounter with this place. She turned around and headed back towards the stairs. But with this new attire she felt she fit in just as well. Not as a princess yet, but maybe as a valued servant. She continued on like this, heading towards the ballroom and then changing her mind, until she was just pacing up and down the hall. Pacing and thinking.

Valued. That was a silly thought. The Contessa had never valued her. Not as a daughter, and certainly not as the slave she had made her into.

At first Eva had been happy to take on chores. The week of her father's funeral, she scrubbed every inch of the Villa, the servants at the time giving her space to do so. She begged the laundresses, the cooks, the grooms to teach her their trades. Anything to distract her from her grief.

Then the staff began to dwindle. Contessa Viviana said there was not enough money to keep the estate and the amount of staff -on "extravagant wages" the Contessa had exclaimed.

The only extravagances were Contessa Viviana's own spending habits. Eva, barely into her tenth summer at the time, did not recognize this. Now, eight summers later, she saw what her stepmother had done, but it was too late.

None of the staff who had worked at the Villa in Eva's childhood remained. Instead were the replacements found by her stepmother: an old gardener, Simone, whom Eva had never heard speak, despite her attempts at conversation; Tuccia, a young cook who lived in town with her eight children, and often had a handful of them in tow when she came to work; and Eva herself.

The Contessa liked to keep up appearances on the rare occasions on which they had company, having Tuccia's oldest daughters act as additional serving maids, but for the majority of the time it was Eva doing all the work.

All the servants who had coddled and taught and comforted her after the death of her mother were sent away before they could help her recover from the loss of her father. She only had the chores to distract her from her sorrow, only the-

Eva hit something solid, and ricocheted back a few steps. She had been distracted by melancholia, and had not noticed one of the doors in the hall opening.

She had walked right into Niccolo.

"I-I beg your pardon, I… I…"

Both of the princes had emerged from the door, and Eva stammered, all the things she wanted to say to Niccolo disappearing. She did not know if she could even say them with the younger prince there as well.

Niccolo squinted at her.

"Are you new?"

Eva nodded. Does he recognize me? But before she could come up with a way to voice the thought, Prince Benedetto added:

"It's just that he's used to being called 'Your Highness'. Doesn't like it when people don't use his title."

"I beg your pardon," Eva repeated. "Your Highness."

Don't be stupid. She berated herself. Of course, with her wearing the uniform, he thought she was just a palace servant.

But Niccolo cuffed his brother on the shoulder.

"Pay no attention to him. Now, are you new? I haven't seen you before, have I?" He had a puzzled grin on his face. "Did you arrive for the Ladies di Angelo?"

"Well...I suppose...I arrived with them."

"You're the fainting one?" Prince Benedetto asked.

Eva blushed.

Niccolo carried on like he hadn't heard his brother.

"The palace can be confusing you first time around. Your mistresses are on the fourteenth floor." He pointed up the stairs with a grin. "Left side."

Eva curtseyed.

"Thank you, Your Highness. My apologies again."

She gave Prince Niccolo a smile, which he returned, albeit somewhat confused, but with a twinkle in his bright eyes.

As she mounted the stairs, she found herself humming the waltz from the ball. The clock struck midnight.

...

Niccolo had guided her back into the ballroom. They were now whirling through a waltz. Eva found, with Niccolo clutching her close to him, she was able to muddle through the steps. With this slower waltz, she was right up against the prince.

His gloved hand was wrapped around her callused one, the silken blue of her dress floating around both their ankles as they spun through the dance.

"You are a lovely dancer, cara."

"I'm only as lovely as you are," Eva smiled as Niccolo led them in the steps.

"But of course, my love."

They were in the middle of the ballroom, and more couples were dancing closer. Eva noticed the jealousy in a few of the girls nearest, jostling their partners, trying to find the opportunity to cut in and steal their own chance with the prince.

Niccolo pulled her in closer.

Eva leaned against him, tucking her cheek against his chest.

"I have never met anyone like you," Niccolo murmured. He nestled his head on top of hers. Eva felt every word from its origin in his chest, through the deep whispers and gentle breath that they left against her forehead.

She tilted up her chin.

"You must meet hundreds of girls, Niccolo. Why am I so special?"

The prince gave a low chuckle.

"Because of exactly that. You have no pretension. You act like you have nothing to offer, but clearly you do."

Eva blushed. If only he knew just how little she had.

The waltz finished, and the band began to play a quicker song.

Instead of continuing to dance, Niccolo pulled ever so slightly out of the hold.

Eva looked up at him, not ready to leave his arms. She never wanted to leave his arms.

"What are you thinking?" She asked him.

They were now standing motionless, while other couples twirled around them. Niccolo was looking down at her, a twinkle in his bright eyes.

"Come with me. There is something else I would like to show you."

Niccolo once again lead her away from the dancing, away even from the gardens. People in all degrees of finery approached, mostly turned them all away with polite nods, and quick acknowledgements. He kept his hand clasped around Eva's, guiding her through the crowd.

"Your Highness!" One woman stepped directly in their path.

Gianna.

Eva froze. She was finished. Her stepsister was going to expose her for the fraud she was. Niccolo would be so disappointed. He thought she was so special, but really she was nothing. She was a slave, a dirty nobody, and she had used the trick of a foreign witch to sneak in to the ball, and bewitch the prince, and she was going to lose everything now…

But Gianna had eyes only for the prince.

"Excuse me, my lady." Niccolo tried to steer around her like he had the others, but Gianna stood fast.

"You are not going to dance with anyone else this evening?"

"I am quite enjoying the dancing partner I have now, my lady. And as lovely as you are, I am sure you will have no difficulty finding someone else for yourself."

Niccolo gave a short bow, finally skirting around Eva's stepsister. Eva ducked her head, hiding behind him as best she could.

She need not have worried. Gianna had barely glanced at her. And maybe, Eva remembered, that was part of the witch's magic.

Her silver shoes clicked against the red tile as they headed into an empty corridor.

Niccolo leaned into one of the deep set doorways and pulled Eva close to him.

"Alone again," he murmured.

Hands wrapped around her waist, the prince leaned down and kissed her, deeper than he had out in the garden.

"Niccolo, was this what you wanted to show me?" Eva giggled as he pulled away, relieved that they had made it past Gianna, and that she hadn't been recognized, and that Niccolo still wanted her.

"Not quite," the prince laughed. He opened the door they had been leaning against and led her up a narrow staircase.

"My siblings and I came up here all the time when we were younger," Niccolo explained as they mounted the stairs. "There were dozens of parties to which children -even royal ones- were not permitted. We found a way to enjoy them nonetheless."

He pulled open a plain door, and gestured her ahead of him.

Eva stepped out onto a narrow landing, two steps deep, five feet along. Below them was the ballroom.

Niccolo joined her, pulling the door shut behind him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her closer to the ledge.

"We can see everything from here," he murmured, lips close to her ear. "But they won't see us."

With a gentle pressure, the prince pulled Eva into a close embrace, then turned her, so she could see the wall behind them. The door they had come through blended with the fresco; the paintings up here were life-sized people in bright clothing. Niccolo was right: even if the party goers below looked up, they might at this distance mistake them for part of the fresco.

Niccolo pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I hope I get an opportunity to show you every room in the palace, but I had to make sure you saw all my favourites this evening."

Eva could have melted.

The prince, enamoured of her. Her papà would not have believed it.

Eva looked down at all the people below, their voices blending into a hum, weaving into the volta the musicians were playing. The prince was pressed against her.

"It appears not everyone is enjoying themselves as much as we." Niccolo pointed. One woman was storming out of the ballroom. Two other women were stomping along behind her.

Contessa Viviana, and Allegra and Gianna.

Eva gasped.

She couldn't let her stepfamily arrive home before she did. They would be demanding someone help them out of their finery, and if she wasn't there…

"I have to go."

Niccolo just looked at her. She was pulling herself away, but his hand caught hers yet again.

"The night is still young, my love."

Eva was shaking her head. She yanked her hand from the prince's strong grasp. She took a step, the door now against her back.

"I don't know how to explain…"

"Don't. Stay." Niccolo stood, confused, by the ledge.

"I'm sorry."

Her hand found the doorknob behind her. With one last look into Niccolo's eyes, she opened the door, then turned and dashed down the stairs.

"Wait! Stop!"

The clock struck midnight.