"Damian, what are you staring at, like a baboon? Ask one of the footmen to help her," Beatrix elbowed him sharply as she got up from their shady spot and brushed off stray grass from her mauve dress.
"Right," Damian finally realized where he was standing. He shook his light, straight head lightly hoping to get his focus back.
"I think we should rescue the damsel in distress," Agapito Rossi said to his brother, Adriano with a pointed look.
"That would be the gentlemanly thing to do," Adriano, replied with a nod.
"But have you forgotten that in stories only the Prince gets to save the Damsel," Damian smirked at his friends who groaned unanimously at Damian's egotism.
"Are you feeling well, Damian? You would be willing to ruin your new boots?" Henry, the resident dandy, asked poking him slightly.
"Not a huge sacrifice. I already have half a dozen new similar ones in my storage closet," Damian grinned at Beatrix whose shoe collection could never exceed the one in his own wardrobe no matter how much she tried. While he didn't care a whit about what he wore his mother and advisors were adamant to expand his wardrobe to gigantic proportions.
Before anyone else could say anything further Damian marched down the sloping area he was reclining on and headed down towards the lake.
Lady Delilah was still laughing joyously even though she was covered in mud and Damian averted his eyes. He had never seen her so open and felt like an intruder in a very private moment.
"Your Highness, I will help the lady out," One servant was pulling his dark trousers up as he informed him but Damian brushed him off with a wave of the hand.
"Stay, this is a matter I can handle," The servant gaped at him with his mouth slightly open.
Damian walked into the water, undeterred by the moss and mud. He felt his dark leather riding boots slowly letting in the water but he really didn't care. He was used to dragging himself back home after mucking about in the mud every day as a young boy. This lake was his own private domain and he liked to think himself as a master of it.
"Excuse me, Lady Delilah, if you are done wading in the water, could I please help you out?" Damian hid his confusion from the strange fluttering in his stomach with a casual smirk.
Delilah looked at him bemused and blinked. Before she could reply he took her hand and pulled her out. She suddenly shivered even though the sun was shining brightly over her head. Damian quickly pulled off his over coat and covered her shoulders to warm her up.
"T-thank you," Delilah coughed out. She pulled a wet strand of hair behind her ear and her mud drenched glove left a curved trail on her cheek.
"I would offer you my handkerchief but I think the situation requires a quilt of a handkerchief instead," Damian remarked.
Delilah looked down at herself and unexpectedly grinned at him, "Indeed. Although I fear even that might not be enough."
She made a move to walk out of the water but stopped as pain hurtled up her leg. To prevent herself from taking another dive in the water her hand gripped the Prince's arm.
"Are you injured gravely?" Damian held her other hand hoping to stabilize her.
"My foot pains a little," Delilah replied exerting great effort in keeping her voice calm.
"A little? It would be safe to say from the look on your face that 'little' does not justify your claims," Damian maneuvered himself so both her hands were in his. Her kid leather gloves were soggy and that permeated into his riding ones. He eased her forward out of the water and she hobbled after him
"Are you all right, Del?" Cecilia wringed her hands with worry after seeing the new complication. Delilah smiled at her bravely trying to look like she wasn't limping.
"Its fine, I might feel better if I rest against some tree," Delilah hoped her voice did not tremble.
"I cannot allow that. You must have someone see to your injuries," Damian insisted.
"I suppose I could take an empty carriage back to the castle."
Cecilia squeezed Delilah's now free hand while Mary trembled next to her.
"That would be wise," Damian insisted. He started to steer Delilah towards where the carriages stood.
"I should come with you," Cecilia declared suddenly making the twosome pause.
"No, no, I refuse to allow you to stop because of me. It is not as if I'm prone on my deathbed. It is just a minor injury which might be as dangerous as a needle prick," Delilah smiled widely, "Now, hurry back. I know you shall find your archers before the day ends."
Isabella tried to protest, but Delilah gave her a firm look indicating how futile the words would be, and stopped to continue to look defeated. The Prince still had his hand around her arm and his strength bolstered her to move forward with more perseverance.
"It just pains to put pressure on it, I am sure it's just a slight injury," Delilah tried to reassure herself more than the prince.
"Or it could have broken in a mass of mangled bones," Damian insisted unhelpfully as he assisted her up into one carriage that the footman had immediately opened doors for. The driver of the carriage quickly started to ready the horses.
Delilah's eyes widened in alarm as she tried to swallow the fact her foot could be irreparably damaged. Her unconscious action made Damian look away instantly. He felt rather foolish for not noticing her bright, grey eyes before. Maybe it was because she was not as careful about adorning her eyes like the other women, he thought.
Delilah’s mind was far away, ruminating on the potential gruesomeness of her limb’s injury so she was startled when Damian hopped into the carriage himself from the other door.
"You need not accompany me, your Highness," She protested belatedly.
He shrugged and presented her with a lazy smile, "It is the Royal duty of a Prince to accompany back the Damsel after he has saved her from distress."
Delilah snorted at his antics.
"I assure you, I am no damsel. I am just the damsel's chaperon," Delilah played back.
"Say that a few more times over and you just might believe it yourself," The Prince gave her an odd look.
Delilah frowned at his comment but chose it ignore it. Her friends waved at her and she waved back hoping their playful mood would not be impeded by this setback.
"This is quite emasculating," Damian muttered after a few ungainly bumps. He threw off his now spoiled gloves on one side.
"What? Sitting in a carriage?" His companion blurted.
"I always lead my party on my horse whether it rains or hails," Damian stated proudly sounding like he was trying to impress her but Delilah knew better.
"Mighty brave of you," Delilah was not impressed by his posturing. She wondered how women who danced around him in delicate social niceties could find someone so arrogant, attractive. He was easy on the eyes though and Delilah was alarmed to find herself observing the man who without his coat looked extremely underdressed. He was wearing a fitted shirt underneath that was loosely knotted in the neck upon which he wore an open waistcoat that left her feeling increasingly embarrassed. In her society a man without his coat and bearings was almost as good as naked and while the Prince seemed to look comfortable Delilah was not.
She instead leaned against the open window to bask in the lovely sunlight filtering through the tree lining the carriages path. She immersed herself in observing the forest and felt disappointed in herself for completely missing the views before. The carriage turned left and the more familiar facade of the castle standing elevated at the edge of a cliff greeted her. The long path they were on would lead them straight to the castle. On her left side was the dense forest they had traveling in and on the other side was the view of the valley. The path's right side was an abrupt cliff face and Delilah trembled to think that she had gone past such a dangerous road on an uncontrollable horse. It was a good thing she was too busy being upset to notice her surroundings
The valley was composed of dark rock mountains with green, thorny shrubbery liberally scattered on them. The sun was currently shining overhead but eventually it would go down straight behind the castle and create a dazzling multicoloured sunset.
Tiring of the view of the forest Delilah wanted to slide over to the side where the mountains were but her impediment was in the form of the Prince who had taken that side liberally. She resigned herself to arching her neck to gain a better vantage point.
"There is much room. The view is better from here," The Prince uttered heavily. She felt like what he said was something with a hidden second meaning but she could not fathom what.
Delilah sighed and shifted sloppily on the leather seats until she sat face to face with the Prince. She tried to content herself by looking out at the blue skies and white clouds that puffed like smoke from an old man's pipe but she was unnerved by something. She soon noticed that Prince was giving her a very direct, unabashed stare from where he was leaning against the leather seats. Her hackles rose at the thought that the man was probably counting down every flaw he could see on her face but she was resolute not to show her anger.
"Is there something on my face?" She finally asked.
Damian gave her a strained smiled. He leaned forward and before she could understand his action his finger touched lightly over her cheek. Delilah frowned at him for his frankness.
He brought his bare finger up and it was covered in mud. Delilah breathed slightly easier though her eyes were still fixed on his finger. Apparently too many women with little sense or morals had influenced him because any other man would know better than to touch an unrelated woman with such boldness.
Delilah quickly rubbed her hand over her cheek vigorously hoping to get rid of the mud and feeling of his touch.
"I would suggest you go over your hair as well. I wouldn't want to frighten the palace guards," He grinned at her.
Delilah bit her lip before she could say anything she regretted.
"There is a comb and a mirror somewhere in those pockets," Damian instructed pointing at the coat she was wearing.
Delilah hesitated for a few moments but then decided that the man had already broken so many rules of propriety so another transgression wasn't going to harm her integrity. She dove into the pockets hoping to find something useful.
In the first inner pocket there was gold pocket watch and in another an apple. In the third she found a lacy handkerchief that was definitely not his own. He beckoned for her to throw it to him.
"And scented too," he unknowingly completed her internal monologue.
"Yes, I can smell that," Delilah scrunched her nose.
"Not too your taste," He asked twirling the lacy fabric around.
"Much too overpowering," She criticized distractedly as she finally found the comb.
She tugged at her hair and tried to flatten it. Damian shook his head at her.
"Let it loose," he suggested but she gave him a cross look and he decided against telling her that her hair was already on the verge of being pulled open.
The carriage ascended abruptly and went through the gates of the palace. They finally ended up at an entrance at the end of the courtyard.
"Your Highness," The page boy looked at them frantically and Delilah winced knowing full well what an odd pair they looked.
"The lady has been injured. Tell the healer to be prepared for an injured patient," He ordered and the page boy ran away to deliver the message.
He held onto Delilah's hand and before she could lecture him on what was considered correct in polite society and what wasn't he started moving her through the gallery. And to add insult to injury he pulled his other arm around her back so his right hand settled on her shoulders. It made it easier for her to walk and he was walking at a sedate pace so she wasn't being forced to walk at a great speed but she was extremely uncomfortable.
"Prince, you do know the concept of personal space?" She finally blurted out after the proximity continued to make her feel extremely awkward. Even with her brother and male cousins there was always a polite distance and decorum that was missing in the current scenario.
"Yes," He smiled down at her looking unconcerned. Delilah looked at his arm and back up to him again hoping he would understand the message.
"Would you rather I carry you?" The Prince asked perplexed.
"No!" Delilah replied vehemently.
"Well, then, hurry up," Damian urged and Delilah decided an argument was just not worth it.
___________________________________________________
Delilah finished her ablutions and hobbled back to the hospital styled bed. The rooms were plusher and far more ostentatious than usual medical rooms so Delilah suspected the rooms were for royalty only.
The Prince had left her to clean himself up and give her privacy with the healer. The healer had lightly bandaged her foot but after informing her that the pain would go away soon and nothing was broken. Delilah spent the rest of the time trying to fix her appearance and wash away remnants of mud with a handy jug of water and a wet towel.
Delilah waited for a few more moments but she soon grew tired of sitting in the bed hoping for someone to escort her off. She limped out of the room from the official entrance, rather than the one the Prince had led her from, and was welcomed by a long gallery like balcony. The view from the covered red brick balcony was covered by an oak tree with branches that gently let in dappled light. Delilah smiled as birds chattered, breaking the silence.
Delilah was content to stand at edge of the balcony when a crash broke her peace. She turned around and realized that the sound had come from somewhere inside the room next to hers. She hurried towards it to see what had happened.
Delilah peeked inside the room and found herself looking at a man lying on the bed. The old man twisted in his bed looking agitated and not quite lucid. His hand heavily searched for something on the night stand dropping another glass. Delilah rushed forward to help get his hand off the bits of glass.
Delilah gasped as she faced him completely. She had seen his imposing statues, paintings and descriptions of him and she had never imagined him looking this weak and helpless. The King looked gaunt and pale and her heart ached at his complete inability to help himself.
Delilah looked down at the medicine bottles with their names listed conveniently and she found what she thought could help. She picked up the green glass bottle, pulled at the stopper, placed the bottle under the man's nose and it seemed to work. The King eventually stopped fussing and trying to escape the bed. Delilah was glad she had read up on soothing oils and gained the knowledge that lavender was apparently good for reducing hysteria. With a pleased smile she propped the bottle back on the night stand.
"What are you doing in here?" A voice growled from the doorway. Delilah turned her head and the fury in Prince Damian's eyes made her hesitate.
"I- I was standing outside near the oak," Delilah mentioned taking a step back, "And then I heard-"
"Come on," Damian stalked forward and pulled her out not minding her injury. She ended up being dragged back onto the gallery. A worried guard raced towards them trying to do up his collar button mid stride. He gasped looking absolutely petrified when Damian grabbed him from his collar.
"Where were you?" Damian breathed harshly, "I had given strict orders that no one and I mean no one was to enter this room."
"I am sorry, Your Highness, I was-" The man blabbered pathetically.
"It doesn't matter where you were," Damian threw him backwards, "Get lost, and find someone more competent to take on your duties."
"And you," Damian rounded on Delilah, "Just like a typical woman. Can't stop snooping around can you?"
"I told you I wasn't doing anything. I did not know there was someone inside that room until I heard noises," Delilah argued feeling terribly used.
"I don't care. You were not supposed to be there," He bit out slowly.
"I didn't know your father-" Delilah spoke gently, trying to be calm but none of it was transported to the man in front of him. He pulled at her arm and stood her at the end of the stairs.
"You will not speak of this ever again. Not to your friends, your cousin, nobody. It would be treason if you do not keep your mouth shut," He growled, blue eyes flashing brightly, "Understood?"
Delilah nodded feeling weak under his anger. She was suddenly overcome with a bout of tears filling her eyes but she refused to let them flow. Her throat felt too constricted so she chose not to try and explain herself. She just looked away.
"Go," Damian dismissed her curtly, "You have done enough damage."
Delilah held the banister and hobbled down one stair miserably and she tenderly stepped on the other. She was going to proceed further in the same sedate pace but was paused by a familiar hand on her shoulder.
"I should help you down," Damian insisted distantly but Delilah shook her head.
"It's okay," She replied stuffily and kept her head titled away.
"I brought you here, so I should lead you down," Damian insisted formally.
"I do not wish to inconvenience you any further," Delilah stated decisively. In her mind this was the last time she would ever talk to the Prince face to face. He may hypothetically have his designs on Cecilia and she would encourage any betterment of relations between them but she would never have any impersonal contact with him ever again. She was sick of being mistreated by the Prince whenever he liked and apologized to whenever he felt like. It was unfair he judged her so cruelly.
"Fine," Damian replied and Delilah expected him to move away and while he let go off her he continued to follow her. Every laboured step she took he followed like a shadow. She continued her steady trail down to a familiar sunken garden and was pleased to know that she wouldn't have to ask him the way. She wanted to tell him that she needed no chaperon to accompany her but she did not want to face him. He followed her devotedly until she reached her room.
She finally turned around hoping her nose wasn't too red and bowed unsteadily.
"I think you might require this now," Damian pulled out his real handkerchief from one of his pockets eyeing her redder eyes.
"No thank you," Delilah declined and remembered what she was clutching firmly in her left hand. It was the glass stopper from the lavender oil bottle. "I believe this is from the medicine chamber," Delilah handed him the stopper which he caught in his open palm. Their fingers accidently brushed and Delilah pulled her arm away as if she was burnt.