An impertinent affair

13. The light in the tunnel

It was evening. The time for the most awaited theatre presentation ever. Where the debutantes would be making their first public entrance ever. Where tongues would go wagging, gossipmongers feeding on every bit of information leaked and heard of which debutante had come alone, and which had met her first milestone.

The most anticipated sight of the evening - the woman on the Prince's arm while he walks behind the King and Queen to the Royal box.

The pick was made. A woman dressed in a shimmering emerald colour dress with glistening diamond studs and a petite custom-made neck piece was walking with the prince to the box along with the rest of the royals and his beloved friend. Not the desired beauty., though.

But she was the next heiress of Yardwell. That more than made up for the lack of traditional beauty in the chit.

The next piece of information - she had also been the prince's first dance the other night. And had a lucky kiss granted by His Highness. Quite a stir, the lady has caused. The debutantes are outraged, but who wouldn't be. Jealousy engenders from expectations to win a certain prize. And someone was laying claim to it from the very beginning.

When the stakes are higher, so are the attempts. Many hadn't been called for company, but they had dressed to perfection. To catch a lord's eye, and perhaps the Prince's.

The dance had begun. On the stage, as well as in Warnia.

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The evening had been his trump card at freedom, too bad his padre had already plans made for it as well. He couldn't take the lady he desired to a social event. If all this was planned much before he had made his move, chances are that the letter hadn't reached Lady Isadora in the first place.

He wasn't shocked. He had just been too optimistic to guess his father wouldn't meddle in this affair since he hadn't summoned him to discuss the same. It had been a while since he had played brain games with his father. He was out of practice.

But he would learn. It wasn't a wish, it was a need. A need to save his life, his freedom, and perhaps his crown.

He looked at the woman sitting beside him. Emerald robes, shimmering jewels - she did scream wealth. Her chiselled jaw, sharp, bright blue eyes, high cheekbones and tall stature did not scream 'maiden' though. She looked far too fierce for any man's liking. And if not her looks, then surely her actions were enough to push men away.

Her cheeks did have a light rogue on them though. And her long neck, profound collarbones, her bounty cleavage...

Thomas cleared his throat and looked on the stage. The deep, pristine music of the flamenco was striking strings in his heart he didn't know existed. This is what music did to him. It poured in his soul and the systematic foot-taps just heightened the pleasure. Until a certain off-track sound chose to interrupt his melodic entrances.

"Is this the cante jondo ?" The woman asked, her eyes still trained on the stage. Thomas looked sharply at his accomplice, a crease of frown forming on his forehead.

"You know about the dance?" Thomas asked, genuinely shocked.

Elizabeth turned to face him. "Why, of course. Though just read, never heard. This is the first time."

"What do you know about cante jondo?"

"Not much actually. But it does seem to mean 'deep or profound music', I suppose?"

Thomas snorted. "That would be quite literal, but it does deal with some deep and serious topics like heavy emotions, despair, religious beliefs, death. It isn't what people all across the country see or perform. This is just the..."

Thomas paused. He had spoken too much. He didn't even know this chit well. And to think he was blurting out everything about his Kingdom.

Elizabeth whipped her eyes off the stage, genuine intrigue clouding her eyes. "Yes, why did you stop? Why is cante jondo the national symbol but not a local one?"

Thomas cleared his throat. The chit was smart, and quick to pick on things underlining the said words. She was supposed to scream 'danger' and 'manipulation' to him. But for some bizarre reason, she seemed too unpretentious and vocal to be a manipulating genius.

Or perhaps she is five notches higher than he could ever be.

Whatever it was, the chit, the music, or just the general air of the evening, he found himself talking to her.

"It is just for the nobility. The locals aren't given the privilege to learn or watch this danza."

The woman's brow creased. "That's unfair. Art should be defined by what the general masses approve of. What they perform. After all, the nobility is a mere small portion of the kingdom!"

The irony of them discussing revolutionary ideas sitting behind the current monarch of the land wasn't lost to Thomas.

He suppressed a chuckle at the idea. He peered at Elizabeth as she refocused her attention on the stage, when no reply resounded from him.

She would make a good queen. Yes, not one to pay heed to courtly politics surrounding her. Unaware, unprepared and brazen in a foreign land where people have been making plans for her life. Himself included. But that's that, and the fact that she had the trademark aristocratic stubborn-head, sharp intellect, her eyes fostering a ferocity he hadn't seen in any woman in his life.

And a not-so-popular emotion for the masses.

A perfect queen. Almost textbook perfect.

But not his queen. Never his queen.

The fact that Thomas had let that thought seep into his mind almost jolted him out of his seat, saved by a narrow fraction.

That moment on, he focused his attention anywhere but his companion for the evening. Living with his family had taught him two things. How to feel comfortable in the stickiest, most damning situations in life, and how to live with a mask so tightly ingrained on the face that must even self be confused as to which is the person one truly is.

He had never imagined in his life to have felt even remotely mortified at any situation thereafter. Up until this damned chit had waltzed into his life and had a laugh on his principles.

The woman had some effect on him. The kind of effect which he hated with every fiber in his body. First him acting like an imbecile on the dance floor, then being perturbed in a mere two line conversation with the said woman.

He must be going insane, there was no other explanation for it. And that hardened his resolve all the more. He would stay away from the heiress of Yardwell.

For his sanity, among other things.

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Elizabeth had never thought she would see the prince she so vehemently abhorred in a new light.

Heck, she had never thought she would live through an entire conversation with the woefully irritating prince.

Perhaps he wasn't as bad as she had thought.

Or perhaps she had been stubbornly judgemental about him, a sick voice sang in her head.

Oh no, it was certainly the first. The prince had exceeded her expectations. Even gone as far as to discuss ideas that other aristocrats would harrumph or simply turn a cold eye on.

She had never imagined herself to meet eye with the prince. But somehow she had. Which arose in her a ray of hope she thought was her last resort at succeeding in her mission.

As much as she loved the ballet she had the good fortune to see from the best seat in the hall, she couldn't focus on the last segment as her mind went to plotting.

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Yup! And here we go with another chapter! Seems like Eliza has something up her sleeve. Alas the news shall break with the next update. Till then, have a great read and stay safe!!! :D