He watched her from afar as she shuffled daintily, the skirt of her dress shimmering under the light of the chandelier. She seemed to be avoiding interaction with everyone, keeping to herself in a little corner of the ballroom. Even from his angle, he could see the curve of her waist and the voluptuous breasts that still couldn't be hidden with the modest cleavage of her form-fitting dress. It clung to her like a second skin, and as his eyes skimmed the crowd, he could tell that he was not the only man present who appreciated her tantalizing figure.
It was a deep blue that melted gradually into a stark white as it descended to the floor in a long, flowing skirt. The neckline of her dress was just above her breasts, exposing smooth collarbones and pale skin. Her shoulders were bare of fabric, as the sleeves began where the neckline did, and they stretched all the way to her wrist. There was a slit in the skirt that ran up to the middle of her milky thigh, displaying her long, lean legs.
Her hair, which looked like spun gold, was littered with precious gems (sapphires, he determined) and tied together in a complicated braid thrown over her left shoulder, showcasing her smooth neck and the black, velvet band resting over her throat. Her elfish ears were adorned with pearl earrings.
Whereas most of the other girls had big, puffy skirts and low, plunging necklines, she had taken to wearing rather simple clothing, but her figure made it look noble-worthy.
Of course, she wasn't a noble, by any means. He could see it in the way she avoided conversation and ducked her head, wringing her fingers when she thought no one was looking and biting her lips frequently. A nervous habit, he presumed. But, even with her shy, bashful mannerisms, she oozed self-confidence. Not vanity, not arrogance, but a genuine, humble gait that showed she thought she had the right to be treated just as everyone else.
Poor girl. She would probably flee home crying before the clock struck twelve. There was a reason why only the ruthless were rich.
Nevertheless, he found himself absolutely entranced by her beauty. It was purely physical, of course. A man of his importance had no time for the folly called love. And with a commoner, at that. He wasn't exactly keen on the idea of sending his parents to an early grave.
A prince such as himself would marry someone of equal stature, no more, no less. His wife couldn't overshadow him, after all. He was the one who would be king; he would keep her at his side for visual purposes only.
A bright glaring of light caught his eye, and his gaze traveled downward to her feet. Her dainty ankles were encased in thin straps, leading down to slippers with a high, thin heel, and it seemed to be made of glass. It looked like the finest crystal, clear and reflective. A furrow formed in his brow. What was a commoner doing with shoes carved from crystal?
Perhaps, he may have been wrong about her economic disposition. But his assumptions on matters such as this were usually right. She could be a thief. He dismissed that thought just as quickly as it had come. If she couldn't even look people in the eye on a formal occasion, how would she get away with theft? It was a dishonest work, and as a man who greatly respected, appreciated and practised honesty, he could usually tell when people were the opposite. She was not one of them.
'Your Majesty,' his servant stuttered, bowing so low he ought to have kissed the tile. He graced his servant with his attention. 'Your subjects await you.'
'They are not my subjects yet, Alston,' he replied, fixing the cuffs of his jacket. 'But you are correct; I have kept them too long.' Resisting the urge to groan from putting his muscles to use after so long remaining stationary, he stood and grasped the marble railing of the balcony, his eyes skimming over the crowd to find her once more.
And at the exact moment when he did, their gazes locked; her wide, doe-like green eyes staring into his bright blue gaze. He took the time to assess her regal face; her high cheekbones, her thick lashes and eyebrows, her small nose, her smooth, unblemished skin.
He was expecting her to duck her head but gaze back. He was expecting her to blush and wave shyly. He was even expecting her deep coral lips to lift into a smirk, a sultry look in her eyes.
He was not expecting her to give him a once over, and then simply turn away. He was not.
And it was at that moment that the prince fell in love, with a girl whose name escaped him.
