Prince Damian was leaning against the marble clad wall absorbed in his own thoughts when the loud chattering from the hallway below him broke the silence. Gradually the chattering reached a louder crescendo and Damian scowled in displeasure. He was standing in the balcony that overlooked the main entrance of the Palace which was the perfect vantage point to observe the guests. He could have easily been down there greeting the guests but he wasn't in the mood to socialize.
Damian might have announced the ball himself in the capital city but it wasn't because he wanted a wife; he needed a wife. His father was ill enough to be bedridden and not even the country's finest healers and chemists could find a solution to his illness. It was not a known fact to the rest of country but the rumours were beginning to travel about the King's absence from the Royal Court. Even an inkling of his father's illness could cause severe problems for Damian in the future especially because he was the only direct heir to the throne. Damian had no siblings who could take over the crown in case of his demise so it would be easy for any usurper to kill off the Royal family and establish his own dynasty. And that was why he needed a wife; to produce another heir.
Damian stalked the balcony as he listened to rather loud exclamations about his wealth and looks. Such effusions about oneself would have given anyone else's pride a boast but Damian was a harder man to please. He grew up surrounded by men and women who thought it was their duty to butter the Crown Prince up. Their words were always meaningless and their actions a farce; the prince didn't care for such mockery.
As much of the crowd made way to their respective suites the prince could hear the last few stragglers much more clearly.
An elderly woman advised her granddaughter to bow down 'low' in front of the Prince. A quick glance from the balcony proved how appropriately the granddaughter was dressed for such kind of low bowing. She looked like the corset was tight enough to disallow any kind of sudden movements. Damian almost wanted to jump out of a dark corner and scare her just to see how far she could run without falling.
Another family continued to argue about the shade of breeches the son of the family was wearing from one end of the corridor to the other.
The prince continued to listen to random babble still not in the clear state of mind to face his guests. He frowned as another pair of women entered the corridor with one of them gazing at the cavernous hallway with awe. The Prince knew instantly they were from the east side of the country. It was an agricultural area with a sparse population and little in terms of civilization. Even the nobility of that area would often gape at the towns and Palaces of the rest of the country looking every bit like the peasants they were accustomed to mingling with.
"Look at that wondrous ceiling, is it made of gold?" A red head asked as she tilted her head in all angles trying to absorb the Palace's beauty all at once.
"No, Cissy; haven't I told you all that glitters isn't always gold," The dark haired one lectured though she sounded amused. The redhead broke from the straight line they were walking and in a predictable fashion headed straight for the mirror placed in one of the alcoves.
"My hair, my hair, It's so utterly wretched. I look like a fright," The girl mourned and Damian was very amused by the predicament her companion was put in. The other girl was obviously the level headed one in the duo and she was already having a hard time keeping the other one focused. For a brief second Damian wondered where their family or guardians were.
"Cecilia, how many times have I told you that your hair isn't a fright and your freckles don't make you look sickly and your feet aren't too large either. Now don't waste your time in front of the mirror because you need to get ready for this evening's event and you certainly don't want to find your dancing card empty," The dark haired one gently led the other one back to their intended path.
"Oh, heavens no, those pretty girls with their low cut dresses will whisk all the men away. I don't want to be partnerless for my debut dance," The younger one exclaimed. The girl paused as she tried to flatten her bushy hair and turned to the other girl, "And neither shall you. I know what you're thinking, Del," Her high pitch echoed in the empty corridor.
"You know me too well, Cissy, but you should also know I won't dance," The dark haired one muttered.
"What if an extremely eligible Lord asks you to dance?" The redhead named Cissy inquired.
"I shall say no," The dark haired one answered resolutely.
"What if the Crown Prince himself asks you to dance," Cissy asked challengingly.
"Why in the world would he ask me in the first place," Del shook her head furiously. Her companion continued to press her for an answer.
"No; my answer to the Prince will always be a no," Del answered quietly.
The two women walked out of the corridor before any more comments were made. Damian cocked his head as he processed the conversation.
"Your Highness, all the expected guests have arrived. It would be best if you could rest before the festivities begin," A man approached the Prince from behind him making the man forget what he was thinking about.
"An alert mind is not what I need when I face that group, Jerald. Oh, what would I give just to be back in the capital where I can enjoy a good conversation upon a game of cards," Damian sighed wistfully, "Ready my clothes for the evening; I'll be back in my rooms in an hour. I need to meet mother and father."
The Prince stalked away, once again descending into a cloudy mood.
Damian wanted to yawn as another Lady bowed in front of him. It was only years of practice and his first tutor's heavy ruler that prevented him from doing so. He tried not to look obvious as he craned his neck to see how long the line of debutants was.
A few bosom heaving ladies fluttered their eyes at him as they caught him staring. They obviously hadn't realized he was only counting them to judge for how long he needed to be there. Only the actual debutants would stand in front of the members of the Royal house while their chaperons stood on the side. The young Lady's mother also stood on the side of the carpet that led to the throne and she made absurd, obvious gestures to her daughter.
The daughter leaned in closer as he kissed her gloved hand and breathed heavily in an attempt to get his attention on her cleavage. She swayed a little as she breathed in again …and again. And Damian could feel a headache forming. She leaned in so close that he could feel her perfume overpower her and Damian did the only thing he could think of. In his desperation he pushed one boot into her shoes and she stumbled as if she was keeling over.
"Jerald, Baker, I think this young lady is feeling faint, would you be kind enough to lead her to some fresh air," Damian barked at his men. The two men immediately came forward and led the girl away.
His herald looked at him disapprovingly but he continued to announce the next Lady forward.
The Prince looked up and a familiar shock of red hair greeted him. A smile involuntarily appeared on his face as he recalled the girl and the conversation he had overheard. Most smiles were comforting to eye but the Prince had the uncanny ability to make people more nervous with his smile; the girl in front of him was not an exception.
"You aren't going to trip me, are you?" The girl blurted and covered her mouth in alarm. She coughed and added through her fingers covered mouth, "Your Highness."
The Prince's smile widened.
"If you aren't wearing any abhorrent perfume that that intends to choke me to my demise, then, no," The Prince answered.
The girl shook her head but her face was contorted with sheer panic. She looked sideways at what seemed like an attempt at acquiring some comfort from her guardian. The Prince looked sideways to see whom she was gesturing at and he stopped in his tracks. It was the other girl from the corridor.
"That is your guardian," The prince spoke and raised an eyebrow.
The redhead nodded enthusiastically.
"A bit old isn't she; you should have brought in your seven year old niece. That's obviously the proper age for a guardian," Damian muttered sarcastically.
'Cissy' frowned and opened her mouth to say something that she would severely regret a moment later when the herald interrupted them with a timely 'hem, hem.'
The redhead seemed to have regained hold of her temper and bowed again to take her leave. She still had her eyes narrowed on him and the Prince had a feeling he was going to regret ever opening his mouth. At least he had one less debutant who would take to breathing at him heavily every opportunity she got.
He turned to get another look at the dark haired girl but she was gone.
"I think it's time to pack our luggage," Cecilia muttered feebly as she walked up to her cousin.
"What did you do?" Delilah asked trying not to cringe.
"I nearly got into a fist fight with the Prince. Well," she paused, "not precisely a fist fight but I nearly bit his head off about what he said about you."
Delilah's eyes widened and she clenched her fists in order to stop any reaction forming on her face. Cecilia was only four and ten when the debacle of Delilah's first ball happened and she knew very little about the specifics. Her family never mentioned the event as an unspoken rule and Cecilia was kind enough not to ask questions that hurt her cousin. Her perception seemed to be that Delilah was jilted by some noble at the ball and Delilah was content to let her believe so.
"What did he say?" Delilah asked hesitantly.
"He mocked the fact that you're my chaperon. He thinks you're too young and he's right, of course, but he should have been politer about it."
Delilah was relieved and her frantically beating heart slowed down to a normal pace.
"This is your debut in the Royal court and not even the Prince himself should have the ability to ruin in for you. I see a certain young man staring at you at this very instant and I believe he is contemplating whether to ask you for a dance." Delilah noticed Cecilia stiffen and stopped her before she could turn around.
"Hold your head high; make good conversation and most importantly enjoy yourself. Now, turn around and smile at everyone who happens to catch your eye. Go on," Delilah coaxed as her charge hesitated.
Cecilia turned around and walked ahead. In no time at all she was making conversation with two girls her age and their companions. Delilah sighed in relief though she already knew that Cecilia would be popular. While her colouring was an unusual red she still stood out due to her height and her trim figure in her green gown. Delilah herself was covered in her outdated gown from three years back. It showed off little flesh and made her stand out less which was perfect for a chaperon.
Delilah watched in pleasure as the young man she had observed earlier finally summoned the courage to face Cecilia. Delilah nodded when Cecilia looked at her for permission and soon the pair was on the dance floor.
Delilah knew the dancing would take a good few minutes so she decided to walk out to the balcony that was right behind her. The full moon was barely peeking out from the clouds but Delilah's sharp eyes still managed to catch sight of plants near the balcony railing. The smell was familiar but she couldn't remember which flowering plant they were from. She walked to the very edge and bent down to feel the plant. The leaf was think and leathery to touch so that narrowed down the choices in her head but she still couldn't decide which one it was. Delilah finally decided to see if the roots were protruding from the soil; if it was then-
"Feeling suicidal already, I know I am," A voice from behind her gave her jolt and she nearly lost her balance. An arm firmly wrapped around her waist as she nearly tumbled through the marble railing bars right into the courtyard below.
Delilah trembled in distress as she stared at the marble glinting off the courtyard. The whole Palace was built in levels. There was always one balcony after another up till the edge of the cliff face the Palace was built upon. If she were lucky she could have smashed her head into the marble and it would have ended there and then if she didn't she could have continued to tumble down until she plummeted from the cliff.
Warm hands pulled her up and she felt a mixture of wanting to throttle the person in front of her and thank him.
"I had no idea you intended to take your own life with such resolve," Delilah was infuriated to hear amusement in the man's voice but she decided to be polite.
"T-thank you sir, for your quick response although…" Delilah paused, "a little warning would be nice."
"I shall remember to tap dance every time I enter any room. It might be an inconvenience but it shall be worth it if I manage to save lives in the process," The man answered nonchalantly; Delilah wondered if a man could be drunk so early in the evening but his breath didn't reek so she assumed the man liked to jest.
Delilah tried to detach herself from the man but he now had his hands firmly at her shoulders. She had never been gladder that her shoulders were covered in fabric. She wasn't used to strange men holding her at such proximity.
"What were you trying to do in the first place? Fly? Worship the moon?"
Delilah was confused and embarrassed. She desperately wanted to slip away back to Cecilia but the man wouldn't let her.
"No, I was just admiring the plants; I could not figure out what they were so," Delilah paused uncertain if the man would mock her for her interest in plants, "I was trying to examine the roots."
The man was silent as he seemed to consider her explanation. Delilah tried to make out the man's expression but she could only tell that he had light hair and bright eyes and teeth. He seemed to be wearing a shirt with a shiny collar that was glinting in the weak moonlight. Delilah tried to remember if she'd seen him in the ball room but she could not pinpoint anyone specific.
The door to the balcony opened and Delilah and the man looked up.
"Your Highness, your presence is necessary inside," A man spoke as he bowed towards the man. Delilah jerked as she heard this. The man standing next to her was the Prince! She felt physically ill at the thought. She instantly pulled away with a determination she could not have mustered before.
"I- I must leave, your Highness," She bowed; still in shock and nearly tripped on her skirts as she backed away.
"Wait," The man uttered but she had already turned towards the door to the Ball room.
"Orchids," Delilah now paused before she opened the glass door, "The roots would have been protruding out of the soil so you would have known they were orchids."
Delilah opened the door and the sounds from inside enveloped her senses.
"Thank you," she muttered before slipping inside.