The Last Dance

The Last Dance (32)

I quickened my steps and heard Mason do the same until we reached the empty hallway where the library was.

I contemplated the door for a few moments, not wanting to go in.

"Just get it over with John" Mase said into the silence.

I nodded grimly and pushed the door open, letting it fall shut behind me. I knew he'd be waiting out there when I got out and that was somehow reassuring.

The King had been facing away from me when I entered and had slowly turned around at the noise. I took a few steps forward until we faced each other and waited for him to break the silence.

"Johnathan we need to talk."

Well, that didn't sound like a good start.

"What about?" I asked carefully.

He shifted around uncomfortably, eyes darting around the room as if looking for some kind of support, and suddenly I knew exactly what this was about.

The silence was near oppressive as the unspoken subject hung heavy in the air. I swallowed hard, feeling a mounting sense of dread come over me.

I should have known this was coming.  

The last two nights it had felt like if I just ignored it, it would all go away. It had been so easy not to think about it, so easy to be distracted.

How stupid.

How naive.

My father walked over to a chair and sat down heavily, as if the words weighed him down.

With a tense motion he gestured for me to take the chair opposite.

I went there with small steps, lowering myself slowly to prolong the inevitable just a few seconds longer.

Comfort was impossible even in a chair covered with cushions and I sat at the edge of my seat, poised to run.

As if I could. 

I was trapped, just as I'd always been.

He cleared his throat, glanced around the empty room one last time and took a breath.

I tensed in my seat, felt my hands curl over the armrests with a vicelike grip.

"I... heard Celia made quite an impression last night."

I released the breath I was holding, felt a smile tug at my lips despite the circumstances.  

"I always knew she would."

I could still see her at the top of the stairs, eyes wide with fear, biting her lip with worry. It all just made her that much more stunning. Halfway down her eyes had wandered the crowds, and I dared hope it was for me.

"Really? Always?"

I jerked out of my reverie at my father's bemused voice and saw his eyebrows arched in surprise.

It took me a moment to register his words and when I did a slight flush crept up my neck.

"Well, I know now" I answered back ruefully.

"You've hardly left her side since you've been back" He replied thoughtfully.

"We're friends."

My voice came out harsher than I'd intended, defensive, and with the look I received back I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince.

"The end of the ball is fast approaching son" His voice was pained, sympathetic.

The subtle change of topic took me by surprise.