Forthwith, I find myself under the gaze of glistening eyes and a truly charming smile. The velvet tailed coat of the Prince is buttoned up, merely allowing the protruding Addam's apple to peer through the red collar embracing the long neck of his. A chain of gold runs from the right shoulder across his broad chest, but not even the great source of greed beamed more than the gilt locks of his hair, brushed so scrupulously that it emphasizes the angelic features coated in porcelain skin.
If we were living inside of a storybook, he certainly would play Prince Charming. But I have learned better than to judge a book by its cover. I figured that appearances rarely fit the inside, for what I must assume the Prince of Mellwand is a terrible human being, even though I had no other choice but curtsy to him as a sign of good will, winning eventually a look of approval from my Mother.
"You two have met once before, a long, long time ago." Her silvery voice draws my attention back to the Hall and my eyes leave the Prince at rest to wander anywhere else. "I do not believe you recall the day, so young you were..."
"Unfortunately, I do not, Your Majesty." My gaze follows the trace of a warm voice. "It is a pleasure to meet you once more, Princess Lydia." He bows down.
"Likewise, Your Highness." The smile spreads wider on my lips, one that does not quite reach the eyes. Instead, it twists my stomach for having to pretend that I hold the utmost respect toward such a person that I do not, in fact, remember, and that could be worst than any wrongdoer at heart for what I know. Just like all the others that now walk through the passages of my home and from whom I have no clue about their true intentions.
My mind travels back into the room as I listen to an adventure starring me and the three years old Prince through the maze of the courtyard of the palace of Mellwand. I pay attention to the way he sets his look on The Queen, taking heed of her words as if he found them the most riveting.
In that moment, I envied him for being so spurious without losing his composure for the slightest moment.
The trouble was that I could not bring myself to better resemble him. I knew it wouldn't take long until the smile crafted mask I put on this morning fell and shattered at once.
In an act of distress, I take a look at my surroundings. My Father was entertained with other guests while Lawrence was at nowhere to be found, which was no particular news.
That is until I lock eyes with Claire who stood next to the doors, near the stairs, in a blind spot for almost everyone, just like a rabbit hiding in a hole. Her hands clasped behind her back and her body balanced in timid sways to the classic music playing beautifully from behind the polite conversations that embraced the palace in a delightful merriness. This time, my smile is sincere. To think that, at least, one of us was enjoying herself this morning.
She reciprocates the smile but soon takes notice of the consternation reflecting in my eyes. All I wished for was a simple diversion to grant me a moment to myself. By good fortune, she happened to be quite the visionary herself.
Without further ado, I watch as her foot slides along the floor, ever so graceful that it seemed like she was dancing a ballet. In fact, as if she was on stage, every eye is flung in her direction when the screech of silver bursts through the Hall.
The musicians brought the euphonious sound to a halt, superseded by the flare of appalled gasps and murmurs before the sight of the footman lying on the floor with his face buried on the lustrous tiles flooring the Hall. Regardless, the tray remains religiously clenched on the servant's hand, now surrounded by delicious shrimps.
Claire's fingertips fly in incredulity to her parted lips. Perhaps if it was not for the unfitting beam in her eyes, I would believe unquestioningly that that footman did fall on his own. I gaze at her grateful, not that I was not aware she had as much fun doing it as one could ever have.
With The Queen's attention drawn across the Hall, I take it as my cue and stealthy flee through the crowded room, soon reaching a quieter hallway. The musicians had resumed the chords by the time, the delightful conversations returned to fill the palace and the previous scene erased from their minds as if it had never happened.
I tighten the skirt of my dress in a fist to run rapidly away from these walls when I encounter Crowley heading toward the clamour. He holds an inquisitive frown directed at me, questioning my absence in the Great Hall - I imagine - for what I merely chuckle humorously.
"You have not seen me!" I take a glance at the butler over my shoulder as he watched me disappear from the corner.
The old oak door stood in the midst of the passage as heavy as it ever would be, yet the view behind it was rewarding of every exertion. I step outside, seizing the stone railings ahead and breath out the air I did not realize was held on my lungs. Suddenly, the laces of the dress did not seem to suffocate me anymore and the ruby on my neck did not seem to weight as much.
Warm daylight irradiates above the Royal Grounds, quiet and serene along the horizon line. Two flights of stairs ran down from each side and a light path opened way amidst the green that surrounded the massive towers of the palace.
A continual crunch sounds beneath my feet as I amble down the pathway toward the call of streams descending the gradually larger bowls of a fountain and gather on the basin from where two rose and tangerine fishes hopped in graceful arches, only to dip back into the crystalline water. The statue of a woman observed them from above, a sword rested downwards on her hands and the angelic wings sculptured of tarnishing bronze rose from her back, conceding her a majestic appearance.
My feet slip from the shoes and set them aside before ascending into the warm edge of the fountain. From here, I was able to discern the green entrance of a maze signaled by an angel statue on both sides, carrying some flowers of the Royal Garden on their pots, replaced every day without exception by the gardeners of the palace.
The smooth fabric of the skirt raises beneath the joint of the knee, permitting the temperate water to reach my toes. Small semicircles emerge from the surface and, as if welcoming me, another fish hopes in the air.
"Truly an engaging sight."
My heart skips a beat by the sound of a crisp voice proclaimed in low pitch from the void. I abruptly turn on my heel in a failed attempt to search for the author behind those words.
Instead, my foot slides from the edge causing me to stumble backwards toward the water. My eyelids clamped shut waiting to feel my body diving into the fountain, but something else lands on the low of my back and the warmth of a firm hold tightens around my own wrist.
Hesitantly, I blink my eyes that now face two intimidating stones of obsidian circled by a magnetic ring looking down on me. As if being pulled by an unknown force, I was barely able to deviate my gaze from them. My lips part as well but not a sound comes from them.
"I believe I own you my sincerest apologies." His hold looses around my body and, all of a sudden, his touch feels distant. "It was not my intention to startle you in any matter." He hops gracefully onto the ground. "Perhaps it would be of better suit to flee away from that fountain," he suggests with his hand extended toward me.
My eyes trace down his imperious silhouette from the gloomy hair falling on his defined eyebrow to the smooth leather of his boots. The skin beneath the obsidian vest resembled the full moon in the midnight sky, if it was not for the beams that emanated from the lilies carved of gold on the cufflinks of the fitted coat over the tapestry fabric of his waistcoat.
The mysterious man waits patiently for me to accept his hand to the exception that now, the glimpse of a smirk irradiates his narrow features, almost as if conceding him a wicked mien. But it is in the sleek sword sheathed at his side that my eyes fall.
A shiver traces down my skin the moment my fingertips reach for his gloved hand. Even though I observed him from above, his iris remained intimidatingly penetrating on me as I descended back into my forgotten shoes.
"Prince Nikolas," he introduces himself as he bows, "of Obsidian."
"Obsidian?" I mutter the word. "Like your eyes..."
"Pardon me?"
"Nonsense." I assure him, distancing my thoughts. "I must say I was not expecting company, Your Highness."
"I must beg an apology for the importune as it is."
"No need." The words slip faster than what I meant them to. "I am-"
"The Crown Princess of Aurelia," he completes my words with all certainty.
"Have we met before?"
"Perhaps in another life."
"So you are a believer of the after life, I see."
"I merely believe that life must be more intricate than..." he looks at his surrounding in consideration for the right word but he comes with nothing, "this," he simply says.
"You mean beyond the lustrous balls and glorious palaces?" I point out with with a glimpse of satire in my words.
"An odd remark for a princess." He eyes me in amaze. "Indeed, I do."
"Not more than for a prince. I believe it as well."
His gaze follows the horizon ahead to contemplate the extension of the grounds.
"It takes a long way from Obsidian into out kingdom," I note. "You must be wearied from the journey."
"Not quite. I trust the sea has restoring properties."
My eyes trail where his gaze falls, a peaceful silence prevails on the grounds.
"Have you ever been there?" His eyes remain ahead the path. "In Obsidian?"
"Not since I can remember but I have read about the kingdom. One of the oldest and most prosperous. The beauty and value of the obsidian stone is unsurpassed." Without first mincing my words I say, "Is it truth what they say about your lands?"
He fixed me with a stare that caused me to fidget my feet over the dirt. "And what is it they say about my lands?"
I hesitate before proceeding, carefully avoiding the eyes that now pierced through my soul. "That they once were the home of the dragons."
Silence reigns through the grounds for what seemed long enough that he would not answer.
"Thousands of years ago, when Obsidian was yet divided by hundreds of primitive lands, a boy was born. Now, he did not brand a sword well nor did he attain the art of hunt, but he learned how to cook, standing next to his Mother from a young age. In fact, his feasts became a matter of whispers across the lands so that King Gulliver himself order his guards to fetch him for his castle. One night, as The King ripped his stag in half, he chocked on a bone. He, of course, blamed the cook for the incident and order his head in a tray, but before the knights could seize him, a fire mantled the castle in red. Some believe that with such honor came pressure and that made of the boy so reckless that he had forgotten the fire still lightening the pot. Some, of course, tell that he lighted that fire himself by unnatural forces, calling him the dragon. Other than that, not a single dragon was seen flying the skies of our lands ever since." A taunting sparkle emerges in his darkened iris. Either it was because I believed in such preposterous tales or because it was the truth I would not come to know, but I shake my thoughts away.
"I must extend an invitation for your family to visit Obsidian. The palace would be your accommodation, of course." He eyes me deftly before saying, "That is if you can bear what is lurking above the skies."
"If you do, then why should I not?" This time I oath to hold his gaze. "My parents shall be most delighted by the good news. Do tell me, was it a troubled sea you faced?"
"We embarked in the evening, the night was raw and the sea was frantic. Once we row in the North Sea, the current agreeably led us here."
"Sounds frightening... but enticing, somehow. When have your ship arrived then?"
"Long enough to flee from the clamour. But I see that you have foreseen me."
"That long? How did I miss all the flattery that waits me on the inside?"
"If the princess will not find her subjects, then her subjects shall find their princess. I guarantee you will find the palace quite the same as when you left, for the exception, perhaps, of a few more wandering royals prying into your grounds." His lips curl into the glimpse of a smile.
From behind his back, delighted laughter echoes in the courtyard. A pair of royals joins in on the outside and, shortly, the balcony beams with dozens of empty flutes and elated words.
"Must we tread back inside?" My voice sounds more disappointed than I predicted.
"I am afraid so." He tilts his head in a slight movement, gesturing me to walk ahead.
With each step, I felt the ties hold my body in a tight embrace and I could not fail to wander if it would leave any marks on my skin by the end of the day or if it was all a mere work of my imagination.
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