The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 6 - Part 2

Thankfully my time to ponder on such reasons finally came to an end, the music swelling to a finish as I swept the younger princess back to the center of the floor. Applause rushed to greet us in the silence left once the dance ended, the nobles obediently following the king's lead as he slammed his hands together from atop his throne.

"Thank you," Ana-Cristina breathed again, her lips barely moving as she swept a curtsey to me. I bowed to her, watching as the line of suitors stiffened and glanced among themselves, preparing to rush for the younger princess. But rather than listen to whatever Ana-Cristina had opened her mouth to say, I turned towards the king, bowing.

I watched him as I sank, his fingers drumming the armrest of his throne before he inclined his head. I rose quickly, a parting glance thrown back at Ana-Cristina while the floor filled with nobles.

She was staring at Dulciana, her shoulders lifting in the barest of shrugs before the suitors descended upon her, that enticing, practiced smile on her face once again.

Dulciana watched my approach with little interest, her eyes darting back to her sister once she'd chosen a partner from the throng.

"A dance, perhaps?" I asked, earning another of her trademark glares.

"I'm tired," she snapped.

"The night is young. Humour me," I said, seizing her fingers and drawing her onto the floor.

She hadn't expected to be grabbed, much as I hadn't expected to be shoved earlier, and I'd gambled correctly. Her eyes raked the nobles around us, assessing in the blink of an eye whether they'd noted her refusal, whether she could take a step away from me without igniting whispers.

She couldn't. So she fixed that dangerous smile onto her lips, seething as she allowed me to lead her onto the floor.

"Very generous of you to share me with your sister," I said, once the music had started. Another waltz. No switching of partners in this royal court, I guessed. Too easy for gossip to flourish.

"It seemed only fitting for her first dance to be with royalty. You are the highest ranking bachelor in the room," Dulciana replied, her eyes inspecting the other guests over my shoulder. Calculating, always calculating.

Honestly, if fate hadn't set us on opposite sides of the chessboard, perhaps things would have turned out differently between us.

"Fitting to also provide me as a target for their plotting and wrath," I said, jerking my chin in the general direction of Ana-Cristina's potential suitors. That drew Dulciana's gaze back to me, her groomed eyebrow lifting.

"Are you frightened, principito?" she asked, unable to hide the wicked delight in her eyes.

"It is not the dagger in hand that one must fear, but the one behind the back," I replied.

She rolled her eyes, the mask of cool calculation returning.

"So mistrustful," she tsked, "You are a guest in my home. I was merely offering you a splendid welcome. Ana-Cristina is a beautiful girl and a wonderful dancer. Far better than I am."

She stomped on my foot with her heeled slipper and I bit back my grunt of pain.

"I am so clumsy," she chuckled, none of that amusement reaching her eyes.

I'd opened my mouth to spew some unsavoury remark, my foot throbbing, when the music abruptly ended, the king having risen from his throne.

I spun Dulciana to a stop before we could crash into the other dancers stalled on the floor. She shoved me away, her eyes on her father before they darted across the room. I followed the king's gaze, turning to the stairs leading back up to the gardens and the entrance hall.

Across from the throne, a young man stood at the top of the stairs, his arms folded as he surveyed the scene before him. His dark hair was tousled, shrewd eyes sweeping the ballroom without so much as a blink that the dancing and revelry had so abruptly stopped. He was not attired in ball finery, but rather a black travelling cloak over a crimson jacket and dark pants, fitted snugly against his lean, muscular build. Beside him stood a shrouded woman, nearly as tall as he was, her entire head and face covered with a burgundy veil, save for a slit exposing her eyes. She was attired in a similar travelling cloak, though with a plain, dark dress beneath it. Neither of them wore any gold or jewels and, had the ballroom not come to a complete and utter standstill, I would've mistaken them for wayward travellers.

"Mierda," Dulciana muttered. Around us, the nobles were sinking into reverences, a wave rippling outwards from the stairs. The pair atop the stairs exchanged a brief glance as the herald stumbled up towards them, his voice projecting over the crowd.

"Su alteza real, el príncipe heredero Frederico, y su alteza real, la princesa Beatriz."

His Royal Highness, crown prince Frederico, and Her Royal Highness, princess Beatriz.

The twins had returned.

~*~

**A/N: Dun dun dunnnn! The moment you've all been waiting for, the return of the twins! What do you think was up with Ana-Cristina during their dance? And what about Dulciana, why did she throw Thomas into the fray? Then, of course, there's the mysterious Frederico and Beatriz...friends or foes? So many questions!

As always, if you enjoyed it, please take a moment to vote and comment! xox**