As the clock began to chime, they tensed up.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
They shook their head. “I lost track of time. It’s midnight.”
That didn’t explain why they looked so frightened, so scared.
“I have to go,” they said, pulling their hands from mine and running.
“Wait!” I called out. “I don’t even know your name!”
They stopped to shake their head again. “See you tomorrow night, your highness,” they said, and they were gone.
I spent the day wondering. They were so mysterious. They were so perfect. They were so genuine. And so I stayed in my room until the party began again.
It was strange, how lost I got in the moment. It was almost like they were a spirit, come to rob me of any sense I may have had, but no. They were human, just like me. Human, like every other guest at the party. They were just that charming.
The clock chimed— midnight again.
“Goodbye,” they said, pulling away.
“Please don’t go!” I begged, but I knew I was powerless to convince them to stay. “Will you be here tomorrow night?”
They nodded. “Yes, your highness.”
Tomorrow would be my last chance.
The day was too long. I couldn’t wait until night. Of course, I still had to wait, but it was agonizing. And then, at long last, the party began. One final night of celebration.
I managed to get them out to the courtyard. To talk.
“You are a real mystery,” I said.
“Isn’t everyone?”
I chuckled. “Not in the way you are. Who are you?”
“Who am I?” they echoed. “It’s not important.”
“It is,” I insisted. “To me, at least.”
They sighed. “That changes nothing. I still won’t tell you my name.”
“Then what may I call you?”
They stared at me for a long time, their expression mostly concealed behind their mask. “Don’t,” they whispered. “Don’t call me.”
At midnight, they fled. I didn’t try to persuade them not to.
But they left something behind. A shoe. Nothing fancy, just a regular shoe.
But it was so intentional that I couldn’t ignore it.
The next day, I began my search. I didn’t know who I was going to find, but I needed to find them. My method of searching for this special someone reminded me of a story I heard as a kid, but that was merely a flight of fancy.
Eventually, by some miracle, someone recognized the shoe. It belonged to a person whose form and face I didn’t recognize, but the timbre of their voice and the way they smiled was familiar.
“Your highness?” they said, and I knew. I knew it was them.
“I don’t know your name, but I know you,” I replied.
“Keep not knowing my name. I’m still working that out.”
I nodded, understanding them perfectly.