The Ivory Knight

Chapter 6

The ballroom, though grand and capacious, still seemed too cramped and overflowing with suitors. Young men and whoever had accompanied them to Castle Corandell milled about the room, chattering with one another. Grey-haired duchesses in billowing gowns sat on the cream-colored velvet lounges as they fanned themselves pompously, a sullen and uptight expression on their rather ungracious faces. Ancient earls strutted about the room, bearing an uncanny resemblance to preening peacocks.

Adeleina hated the sight of it all.

All day, she had sulked about the castle doors in hopes of spying a certain prince with beautiful eyes on his jet-black horse, riding towards her castle. She had even dared to venture to the outskirts of the village, but upon being tugged back to the castle by an impatient Darcy, gave up her conquest.

Alecsander did not arrive.

Now, she stood in the midst of dozens of men and women, several of whom's attentions were cast upon her. The ball had started but a half hour ago, yet to Adeleina, it had already felt like days.

"Princess Adeleina," an old man, his beard snow white and face bright red, stumbled toward her. His breath reeked of wine. It had been but thirty minutes, and already men were getting drunk? Adeleina struggled not to curl her lip in disgust. "May I present my son, Eric of Hemingway?"

Adeleina wanted to snap at him, to tell him no, he may not present his son. But she didn't. She stood there a painful smile frozen on her face as she nodded graciously, as she was expected to. Her father beamed at her from across the room and waved jovially, utterly unaware of her boredom and anger.

The said Eric of Hemingway stepped forward. Immediately, Adeleina decided that she disliked the sight of him. Unnaturally bony and standing nearly a head taller than she, he was a gangly look about his figure. His face was pallid, and wore an expression that resembled that of someone who had tasted something unpleasant.

"Adeleina," he addressed her, his bow sweeping ever lower until his beak-like nose nearly wiped the floor. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he told the ground. Adeleina tried hard not to throw up. His voice was sickening, like downing a flask of both tar and oil in one swallow. Her smile, however, managed to stay plastered to her face despite her disgust.

"The pleasure is mine, Eric of Hemingway," she lied. Eric straightened his back and leered at her, exposing crooked yellowing teeth. It was all she could do to restrain the sudden urge to send her fist, or perhaps her sword, flying into his sunken gut as his beady eyes roamed her figure. 

"Will you honor me with a dance, Princess?" Eric moistened his thin, snake-like lips. They sneered at her, mocking her chastity. Adeleina took the smallest of steps backwards. Her eyes searched desperately for someone, anyone, to save her from having to touch this disgusting creature. King Hemingway was staggering towards the table of wine, apparently pleased that he had done his share of work. Adeleina grimaced. Where was a knight in shining armor when you needed one? She certainly needed one now, at her own betrothal ball.

"It would be my...delight to dance with you, Eric of Hemingway," She spat the words out like bitter poison. Gods curse her father for inviting this kind of scum to Corandell Castle! Gods curse Alecsander for not being here to preoccupy her!

Adeleina took a step forward. Eric's left hand reached forward to grab hold of her right one. Adeleina longed to squirm uncomfortably. His hand was clammy, and clutched her fingers far too tightly. Eric bared his teeth at her in what may have been his idea of a smile. His right arm snaked under her left, until his palm pressed against her back. Adeleina stumbled forward until her face very nearly touched his chest. She gagged, grateful that at least she could avoid his lascivious stare. Her other arm dangled limply at her side, unwilling to reach up and rest it on his upper arm.