The Princess and the Bandit

Chapter 19

Matty dresses me in a roiling scarlet gown, explaining to me that on the day of the prince's birthday a party would be held that evening, and again tomorrow for mine. Wonderful. More parties.
I spend most of the day wandering about the castle, searching for secret passages. Nada. I find my way to the servant's corridors, and nick a quick bit of food; I haven't eaten in almost an entire day or two. Interesting, how I could be the wealthiest woman in Clockman, and yet be starving all the time.
I associate myself with the servants and other workers of the castle, assorted scribes and monks and bishops and pages. I introduce myself to them, and assist them with their work. I insist on delivering the washing and the physician's potions, give advice on formal documents. I sit and talk with the maids for quite a while, helping with the sewing and mending, and I donate time to the tailor's servants as they sew and stitch thousands of garments.
No longer will Hollie of Clockman be the mysterious young princess who retreats into her quarters and avoids humanity.
The sun is setting, when I finally show up to the party in the great hall. My husband's birthday party. Husband. The word sickens me.
It's a million times more formal than the wedding celebrations... no drunken scribes staggering about and snoring on the tables. Instead, the band produces a haunting, stately melody as couples spin around the center of the floor, and people talk in a low, polite murmur on the sides.
I merge myself with the people on the sidelines, smiling to myself as I watch the happy pairs dancing on the floor. No one in the world exists but themselves... and you can see it in their eyes. It's somewhat beautiful to watch, the complete content on their faces, and you know they could simply dance on and on, forever.
The massive crystal chandelier gleams down on the floor, illuminating the room in gentle yellow light. I sidle through the crowd, greeting those who recognize me, but staying out of conversation. My eyes skirt the room, and I spot the king, who is, as usual, perched grimly at his throne in the far center of the room as he observes the celebrations with a dark disinterest. No sign of his son.
I sigh. Then I want to slap myself for being disappointed. Oh, Connor.
I feel stupid for admitting it to myself, like one of the dumb giggling village girls who sit and wave at all the young men who pass by them. I suppose the feelings are normal... but I hate them. I hate feeling vulnerable, exposed. And even worse... I'm pretty sure he knows, or at least suspects. And I know he does not love me.
I heard what he had said... he does not care for me. He puts up with me for the good of his kingdom, but feels nothing. The sense of duty and the bitterness of patience.
Nothing more.
"May I have this dance?" I jump at the familiar voice.
"Sure, Gregory." I smile weakly, grasping his hand and letting him lead me onto the floor. It's delicate and gentle; a polite dance between acquaintances. "I thought Connor wanted you guys to stay away from me."
"Ha." He grins, as we rock back and forth awkwardly. "You realize I'm doing this for your own good."
"What?" I frown at him. "What do you mean?"
"You'll see. Just wait a few minutes, and you'll see. You'll thank me later."
So we just rock by our hands, me spinning every now and then to the stately music. No effort to make further conversation. Curiosity swelling inside me. And then-
"Excuse me. May I cut in?" The rich voice behind me, making my heart leap into my throat.
"If you must..." Gregory sighs falsely, but I catch the ghost of a grin on his face as he releases my hands, and he winks to me as Connor pulls me away. So that was what he meant....
"Did he say anything?" Connor demands after a moment of tense dancing, our hands clamped tightly, each of us looking the other way.
"Only that he and the other knights had been instructed to keep their distance." I remark mildly. Connor swears softly, and I raise an eyebrow at him.
"It was just..." He tries to think of something to explain his actions.
"Mm. Yes, no feelings at all." I taunt as he spins me away to the music. He glowers silently.
"I didn't think you'd show up." I mutter as he pulls me lightly back. We only touch lightly, fragile fingers dancing over each other's palms. He dances surprisingly well, though, light and nimble on his feet for such a powerful bloke.
"It is my birthday." Rocking steadily, hand in hand, even though our hands belong around the other's waist.
"You don't look very happy."
"I couldn't train today. Didn't touch a sword once... how could I be happy?"
"You're right." I agree. Spinning again. "You're never happy."
"That's not..." He begins to say, then stops. "I suppose you're right, actually."
"Bingo." Pulls me back, and his hand brushes my shoulder briefly. "I don't see what's stopping you from being happy."
"I-" He stops, then eyes me threateningly. "Don't think I don't know what you're getting at, Hollie."
I shrug, swinging around, but my sweaty hands betray me.
"Don't think my own knights don't talk to me as well." He whispers in my ear, and my heart sinks. Curse them. So he does know, then. And I hate him. So severely, it almost hurts.
Spinning again, awkwardly jerking back to him. I stumble in my distracted thoughts, tripping us both up, and he grabs my waist to keep me from falling back, though quickly lets go.
"Look." I breath nervously, though I hate the fact that he knows I'm weak. He hates weakness, if I've figured out anything else about him. "There's nothing between us, and we both know that. But I don't see why we can't try and act friendly."
"I think you're wrong, Hollie." He mutters. Spinning again. I trip over my own dress, but he catches me again with strong, sure hands.
"A second ago I was right."
"Apparently there is something between us.... A one-sided something, at least...." He breaths in my ear, his voice barely a whisper below the droning of the music, the song that's ending.
"What exactly did you talk to the knights about?" I moan inwardly. So he does know, now. For certain. A new song begins, slower than the last, a drifting, moving melody that makes your heart beat faster.
Connor grins. "Wouldn't you like to know."
Spinning, I trip him up again, but he simply moves his feet. "Whatever. I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of it. It's not like it matters."
"And how is that?" His voice is low and stirring.
I shrug, avoiding his eyes. "If you haven't noticed, my feelings are kind of... not shared." I stare at the ground, at our tripping feet, the black legs of his trousers and the curls of my crimson dress, brushing together, then pulling away.
"You seem to think you have everything figured out, Hollie Barnersworth." His voice sends chills down my back, the music blotting out everything else in the world but him and me. "And you've got me sighted out pretty good, I'll admit. Maybe I can be a little harsh, impulsive... distant.... But I think you've misjudged a few things... and you really ought to give me another chance."
His hands travel lightly to my waist, holding me as we slowly rock back and forth. Delicately, my heart pounding, I reach my shaking hands up and lock them gently around his neck, careful not to pull and injure his side while his warm grip is so firm and self-assured.
The music plays. We spin slowly, and I finally lift my face to look at his... the huge, beautiful eyes. The fire in them melts my heart, as he spins me under his strong arm, pulling me back and we press our bodies closer together, arms locked and outstretched before us, his warm, powerful body so close to mine, touching, even.
Then his words finally catch me, and my heart stops. I stumble.
Misjudged.
Coincidence? I think not.