The Beauty In Love And Murder

Chapter Twenty Nine - Adrienne

The wind tousles my hair slightly as I sway with Theodore in the silvery moonlight, the cold touch of the air against my shoulders making me shiver. I force myself not to look up at him— I can't after his curt dismissal moments earlier. I feel stupid, like I shouldn't have been friendly or flirted at all. I don't even know why we're still dancing here together.

His eyes seem cold as he stares over my shoulder, and I bite my lip. I don't want to be here with him like this, not when we were just being so friendly, and he was being so sweet.

I push out of his arms and step back. "I'm going in to get a drink." I say without meeting his eyes. He looks bewildered at my sudden mood and I feel a flash of anger and hurt spark inside me. Without another word, I pull the balcony door open and step back into the noise and lights of the ball.

Nobody notices my abrupt entrance, and I take a couple deep breaths. Fearing that Theodore will come looking for me but half hoping that he will, I pick up my long skirts in my hands and step quickly towards the tables of food across the room. As I make my way there, I see people looking at me with varying expressions of curiosity, envy, jealousy, and condescension. I feel panic rise in my throat and grab one of a hundred glasses of gold, bubbly liquid lined up neatly on the white linen tablecloth. I down three of them quickly, wincing at the sweet yet bitter taste. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the drink cool me down.

I stand on the side of the ballroom, surveying the dancers and the people scattered around the floor for what feels like hours. The guests seem comfortable and at home here, which is so at odds with the way I feel now. My head seems oddly light, and the noises of the chatting guests and the music fade in and out of my hearing. I blink slowly, feeling strangely awake but tired at the same time.

As I'm about to topple over from drowsiness, Theodore appears before me, looking concerned. "Adrienne? Are you alright?" He frowns. I say something incoherent— I think I tell him I'm perfectly fine, but it doesn't sound quite right. His eyes narrow and he looks at the three empty glasses on the table next to me, and he whirls on me. "Adrienne! Did you drink these?" He asks, placing an arm around my waist as I tilt to the left. I grin at him. "You- you're pretty... you know that?" I tell him haltingly. Pull yourself together, a voice resounds in my head. I wrinkle my forehead. That doesn't sound like me.

Theodore tugs me towards the stairs quickly, and I squint as we get nearer to the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. "No-o-o-o, it's too— it's too bright, Theodore." I groan. He pats my arm consolingly, avoiding the groups of people scattered about the stairs. They don't seem to notice us, and we walk past them without any trouble.

The prince pulls me through a large doorway leading into the main hallway, then coaxes me up another much smaller flight of stairs hidden off to the side. "You, sir... You're not nice to me. I—" I cough, my throat feeling oddly parched. "Come on, My Lady. Up we go, your room isn't too far." His hand on my waist tightens as I tip backwards. I shake my head. "No-o-o. I want to stay right here. You can go away..." I groan again as he pulls my resisting body up another step. "Your Majesty I dislike this," I cough again, a hand pressed to my temple, "Very much. I shall not... be moving." Theodore stares at me levelly for a moment and as my eyes begin to close, I vaguely feel his hand move to the small of my back. I lift my eyelids slowly, my lashes feeling heavy, just as he scoops me up in his arms.

Even in my intoxicated state— and I am aware that I am incredibly intoxicated— I tense at his touch. His wrist curls around my upper arm gently, and his fingers press indents into my skin. I shy away from him for a moment, remembering how hurtful his response was earlier on the balcony. However, after a second, drowsiness takes over and I lean my head reluctantly on his chest, feeling the sculpted shape of him through his smooth, black shirt.

He walks in silence with me curled up in his arms until we reach my bedroom. My ladies-in-waitings open the door with wide eyes, and Theodore murmurs a dismissal to them quietly. They file out the door with concerned expressions on their faces, and I wave good-bye to them sleepily. I have a raging headache, and all I want right now is to sleep and drown out the pain in my head.

Theodore sets me down on the coverlet and I curl up into the fetal position almost immediately. Vaguely, I feel the mattress move as he sits behind me, and I feel comforted knowing that he's going to be here with me for a little longer.

I'm drifting off to unconsciousness when I stiffen at the feeling of somebody unzipping the back of my dress. "Mnnnmh." Theodore chuckles behind me. "Apologies, My Lady, but I have to get this damned gown off of you before you go to sleep. It can't be very comfortable to wear as a nightgown." I nod against the pillow and Theodore carefully pulls the zipper the rest of the way down.

The dress slides against my skin as he pulls it down and off my body. All I have on now is a silk slip dress that I was wearing underneath, which apparently the prince decides is comfortable enough. He walks over to the bathroom quickly, returning with a damp towel. He dabs the makeup off of my face, the cloth feeling deliciously warm on my chilled skin with the hot water he soaked it in. When Theodore is satisfied that all my makeup is off, he pulls the covers up to my chest and sits next to me on the edge of the bed. I keep my eyes shut, the pain of my headache making it too tiring to keep them open. I guess Theodore assumes I am asleep, because he begins to stroke my hair gently. I feel a tingle run down my spine and curl up in my chest every time he runs his hand from my forehead to the crown of my skull, and in my drunken state, I think I like how it feels.

After a period of time that definitely is not long enough, he removes his hand from my head and I open my eyes a sliver. He's walking away and a spike of fear runs through me as I think he's going to leave. I'm about to protest weakly when I hear a dragging sound and shut my mouth. He's dragging the creamy sofa over to my side of the bed, and draping a blanket from a closet onto it. He grabs a pillow from the side of the bed opposite me, and lays down on the couch, studying my face. I shut my eyes and try to sleep as I lie in bed with a prince not two feet away from me.

As the alcohol drags me into unconsciousness, I can feel a ghost of a smile playing on my lips.