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I woke the next day and immediately thought of the prince. Had it all really happened? I glance around and spy the dress and slippers. It had been real. A giggle escapes my lips. I try to be serious, but my lips curve upward.

I run to the dress. I hold it up to me and twirl around the room. I set my dress reverently on the bed and dance downstairs.

I dance the day away, humming tunes from the night before. My feet barely touch the ground all day. Around seven that night, I calm down enough to get ready for the ball. I draw a bath and soak away my troubles then emerge to dress. The dress waits for me along with Mother.

"Mother," I gasp as I enter the bedroom.

"I thought you might need a lady-in-waiting to help you dress," she replies with a smile. She helps me into the dress. She proceeds to whisk my hair up expertly into a cascade of curls.

She kisses me goodbye, and I soon arrive at the palace. I enter the ballroom as the palace's chapel bells toll eight.

The prince sees me almost as soon as I step into the room. In seconds, he is by my side, dropping a kiss on my hand. I feel a flush creep up my cheeks. He notices and smiles.

"You're very pretty when you blush," he whispers as we begin to dance.

My heart begins to pound so hard, so fast that I fear it may stop from the strain. I find it difficult to remember to breathe when he looks into my eyes. Yet I somehow manage to keep dancing. After one dance, we take a walk in the garden.

While the night before I was awestruck by the ballroom, tonight I am dazzled by the garden. Even in the moonlight, its splendor can be seen. Roses of all the colors roses have ever been cascade down trellises and bubble up at the base of fountains and statues. There are red roses, white, pink, yellow, peach, lavender, even baby blue roses.

I pause at one bush of these baby blue roses.

"What is it?" the prince asks as I stare at it.

"I never realized there were roses this color," I reply as I extend a hand to cup one of the huge blossoms.

"There aren't naturally," he answers, joining me. "It's said those were a gift to my great-great-grandfather and grandmother on their wedding day from the fairies."

"Oh."

"Their thanks for him kissing her awake. Seems they'd been waiting for one hundred years for a prince to kiss the princess Aurora," he explained.

"They're lovely," I whisper.

He reaches out and breaks off one rose in full bloom. "But none of them compare to you." He hands me the flower, and I take it as I flush.

"Thank you." I smell it as I look into his eyes.

We continue to walk through the opulent gardens. I notice now the exotic and expensive flowers. Lilies from the Far East, hibiscus from the Pacific, and a thousand other species I couldn't name.

I pause at a statue surrounded by snow-white lilies. The woman is bent slightly as if she were glancing in a puddle at her reflection. Her robes hug each curve of her well-proportioned body. Her expression is thoughtful and impossibly beautiful. I am struck by the strangest feeling I've seen the face before.

"One of the most recent additions," the prince informs me. "About fifteen years old, if I recall correctly."

I feel a pang in my chest. Only a year younger than me. I look at the statue's face again. Then I realize why it is so familiar. It is my face. The statue is of me. But how could it be? I had only been a year old when it was created.

"Mother," I whisper under my breath as I realize it.

"What?"

"Who carved that?" I ask, facing him. My eyes are sparkling with excitement.

"I believe it was a peasant woman. Talented artist. Married Lord Deleque as I recall."

My head spins as I realize my mother had carved a statue of what she had hoped to be me when I was grown. I sway on my feet, and Gregory catches my elbow.

"Are you all right?" he asks, concern clearly written on his face. "Are you cold? Do you need a jacket?" He leads me to a nearby marble bench. I sink down onto it. He gallantly drapes his jacket across my bare shoulders.

"I-I-I'm fine," I stammer. "That statue. My mother carved it."

"You're Lord Deleque's daughter?"

"Yes. I-I should have told you. My mother carved that statue."

He looks at the statue and starts. "It looks just like you."

I smile slightly. "You noticed."

"How--?" he begins but broke off.

"I have no idea. It...shocked me."

"She did an excellent job," he replies. He sits beside me on the bench. "But I prefer the model." Then his lips brush across mine.

My heart stops beating as he kisses me again. The world seems to shrink down to this one kiss, to just the two of us. The world also explodes outward though to encompass every person who had ever felt this way. Everything matters, and yet nothing matters.

When we finally part, I rest my head on his shoulder. I may be dizzy from the kisses, but it is pleasant the way my thoughts whirl around my head.

"What is your name?" he asks softly. "I know whose daughter you are, but you never told me your name."

"Oh, it's--"

The chapel bells toll quarter till the hour. I glance toward the clock tower at the sound and realize I have fifteen minutes to leave in.

"I must go," I say, panicking. I stand quickly, and the world plays tilt-a-whirl for a second. I am already heading back to the palace though.

"Wait!" Gregory catches my hand.

I meet his eyes. I wish I could stay here forever. In this garden, talking, walking, kissing for all eternity with the prince.

"What's wrong?"

"I must go," I repeat, glancing toward the palace again.

"Will you tell me your name tomorrow night?" he asks.

"I--" I look at the clock again. Ten minutes left.

"Please." The softness, the desperation in that single word captures my attention. I meet his gaze. It pleads with me silently.

"Yes," I gasp. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

He pulls me close and kisses me one last time. I tremble with emotion. I remember the time though and break away.

"Same time?" he calls as I run away with his splendid coat still around me.

"Same time," I answer as I enter the ballroom. I make my way to the exit.

Five minutes left until midnight. I run out to the coach. The footmen move quickly.

"Mite close, don't you think?" the coachman says as the door closes.

We fly home. My mother awaits with a slight frown.

"The time got away from me," I answer her silent scold with a pleading glance.

She helps me undress.

"I saw your statue," I say with exaggerated calmness.

"Oh?"

"The one of me," I answer.

Her hands still. "So you guessed it."

"It didn't take much. Why did you carve it?" I climb into bed.

"You've had entirely too much excitement tonight," she says as she leaves the room. Then she disappears, and I am alone in the dark.