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A Matchmaker
"So," Angelo said, leaning back against the trunk of the willow, legs crossed at the ankles and hood pulled down, shielding half of his face from view, "what exactly is a 'debutante'?"
I snorted, rolling my eyes, "Remind me to never share anything with you ever again. I always regret it."
He let out a snicker, tilting his head back until he could peek out at me from beneath his hood, unmistakable mischief swimming in the endless blue depths of his eyes. "Such cruel words from such a pretty mouth."
I harrumphed, but continued to nibble on the lemon cake that he had brought me. I had let slip one day nearly a month prior, in the weeks following our picnic in the wildflower field, that they were my favorite treat. Since then, he had taken it upon himself to ensure that I would never want for them again.
Alright, so maybe not everything I shared with him had been a mistake.
But, it felt good to tease him, Goddess knew I had endured more than my fair share of teasing at his hands in the few short months that I had known him. Some sick part of me had even secretly grown to enjoy it, though I would never admit it out loud for fear his head would grow too large for his neck to support. But, I had reluctantly come to realize that I would gladly face hours of his ceaseless goading if it meant getting to watch that playful spark take life in his bright eyes.
"So are you going to explain, or do you plan to torture me with the suspense?" There was still a hint of laughter in his voice, "It's a creative tactic, princess, I'll give you that, but with me gone, how do you plan to stay one step ahead of the Blood Fangs? Unfortunately my brothers don't share my weakness for fiery women, you may not have quite the same luck seducing information from them."
I huffed out a short, sarcastic laugh, but after the echoes of it faded out across the lake, I answered his initial question anyway, "Ancient humans would throw great events and balls when an upper-class woman came of age to 'debut' her to potential suitors. The women were called debutantes."
He removed his hood then, and sat up, watching my face as he always did when I spoke of humans. I continued, ignoring the intensity of his stare, "I was only kidding when I called it a debutante ball, officially my mother named it the Spring Ball, it's on the first Friday of every April," I reached out and plucked a stray blade of grass growing alone among the thick roots, rolling it between my fingers, "just between us though, I think the whole thing is only an excuse to play matchmaker. She invites nearly half the kingdom's youth into one building for a night, so naturally, quite a few people discover their mates there."
He tilted his head, "You don't sound like you like it very much."
"Very observant," I quipped, earning a smirk. "It's probably the most consistently wretched ball of every year."
"It can't honestly be that bad," he retorted, "dressing up in fine clothing, eating bite sized sweets, and dancing the night away."
"You like to dance?"
The smirk slipped from his lips, but the dimple on his right cheek remained. "With the right partner."
My gaze fell to my feet. What might it have been like, in another life, to dance freely with Angelo at a ball?
His hand reached out until his index finger was gently tilting my head back up, forcing me to meet his eyes. We stayed that way for a moment, just gazing at each other. He was searching for something from me, I knew he was, but I couldn't bring myself to care when it meant I had an excuse to gawk at him uninterrupted. His lips parted, as if he wanted to speak, but they snapped shut a beat later and he sighed, releasing my chin from his grip and effectively ending the moment.
I coughed, clearing my throat softly, "So,– uh– anyway, I usually spend the majority of the night with my Uncle Reed's kids or my Aunt Sienna." Or Franco, but I kept the last part to myself, if only to maintain the peace a little longer. Franco had been a touchy subject in the past, after all.
He took the bait, thankfully, and allowed our conversation to turn lighthearted once more. He owed me a clue for information I had traded with him days ago, but I wasn't worried. I knew that he would honor our bargain when the time was right. I had a box stashed under my bed filled with violet bandanas that could attest for his trustworthiness, despite my initial reservations. In a little over a month and a half, he had: given me that first tip about the Cazzico Mines, leading to Vito DiMaio's arrest; pointed out a handful of other conspirators and traitors within our own ranks; and even began tipping me off to attacks before they happen, saving countless lives. All he asked from me in return was my time. He still gave only the barest sliver of information, that I would then have to spend hours puzzling together, but I had come to rely on his help.
However, it was no use trying to think of the Blood Fangs, or the council, or even my mother's pregnancy when he was sitting so close to me.
All I could focus on was the lingering memory of his touch on my chin, like a million tiny fireworks dancing on my skin– and how badly I wanted him to do it again.
~*~
The mare beneath me snorted impatiently as we waited for the rest of our party to mount their own steeds the next afternoon. I watched them attempt to maneuver the animals around with only partially veiled amusement. Long considered a sign of wealth by human societies, horses had lost significant popularity in the kingdom due to poverty and the fact that shifters simply had no need for them. What use is a horse, when you can turn yourself into an apex predator? In result, not many people truly knew how to ride the beautiful beasts anymore, though my mother was trying to change that. 'Humans may be the weaker and slower species,' she liked to say, 'but on horseback, humans and shifters are equal'. Perhaps that was why she liked to plan this yearly farce of a hunt. At the very least, both species were making equally large fools of themselves as they struggled to control the gentle, castle-trained animals beneath them.
I leaned forward to run a soothing hand down the mares neck. "Soon, girl," I murmured, glancing back at the hundred or so young people gathering around us. The majority of the guests would be arriving later that night, just in time for the feast and the following ball, but the brave ones always arrived early, eager to find love or befriend someone of higher social standing than their own.
Many of those had already learned the hard way that my friendship was not an easy rung to climb on the social ladder, try as they might to earn it.
As the crowd gathered at the edge of the forest where I sat with my mare, ready to be off, I couldn't help but notice the wide berth that many had decided to give me. I smirked at the several foot perimeter, as if a witch had cast some sort of spell to form an invisible, impenetrable wall around me, before slipping all sign of my entertainment at their expense from my face and replacing it with the neutral mask that I should have been sporting the entire time. I didn't let my thoughts linger for too long on just whose abhorrent behavior had begun to rub off on me.
When, finally, the guests were as comfortable atop their mounts as they were going to get, and our large group had begun moving at a snail's pace through the outer gate of the castle grounds, I couldn't stop the sigh from slipping past my lips.
A figure rode up beside me, but I paid them no mind. Franco was likely up ahead somewhere, sniffing around for his missing mate like the poor, lost puppy he had become, and there had been no sign of either my cousins or my aunt today as of yet, much to my dismay. "I've always wondered why you look so miserable at this thing every year," came a voice I recognized and I turned my head to meet a pair of electric blue eyes. There rode Carmine Asaro, the wind blowing back his golden hair as his chestnut gelding easily kept pace with my mare. I bit back another sigh, this time for an entirely different reason. It wasn't his fault he looked so much like someone I would rather be spending time with.
"I'll tell you when you're older," I teased, once again not caring that it was a line Angelo might have used to rile me up.
He laughed at that, the carefree sound cutting through the noise of the horses and drawing quite a few gazes in our direction. We fell into a comfortable silence as his laughter died out, and I was suddenly very glad that it had been Carmine that had ridden up beside me. With the growing chasm between Franco and I that I could seem to neither stop nor slow, he was turning himself into a very valuable companion to have at social events, if only to provide me with a brief distraction.
We left the road and entered the trees, weaving through the thicket. There was a bow slung across my back, but I didn't bother to touch it. With the ruckus we were making with our hundred horses and hushed conversations, there wasn't an animal in miles that didn't know we were coming. When the trees began to look familiar, however, I slowed the mare, allowing myself to fall behind the rest of the group, Carmine's blonde head disappearing from view in the crowd.
When I was sure I wasn't being watched, I broke away completely, kicking the horse into a trot and coming quickly upon the lake. I sped to the willow, dismounting before slipping beneath the cover of the hanging limbs. Angelo was nowhere to be found, but above me, a bandana swayed gently in the breeze.
After climbing up to retrieve it, I opened the note within. Scrawled neatly on the paper, was the clue that he owed me, but above it was a message just for me:
My dearest debutante, my eyes rolled, practically hearing his teasing voice in my head.
I hope this information brightens your day and saves you from the distinct horror of wearing fine clothing and eating expensive foods. While you are dancing the night away with the kingdoms most eligible bachelors, I have been summoned to my father. I hear the king of Lupia has somehow mysteriously managed to get ahead of the Blood Fangs movements, so I'll likely be gone for a few days to help draw up new plans, but I will return to you as soon as I can.
Yours,
Angelo
I stared down at the words on the page, anxiety forming uneasily in the pit of my stomach at the thought of him going to see his father, the infamous Ambrose Amato, though I knew that fear was unwarranted. It was his own father, after all, and just because he would undoubtedly kill me on sight given the opportunity, didn't mean Angelo had anything to fear from him.
My eyes narrowed in on one word, yours, hating the thrill that coursed through me at the meaning.
All this time I had been fighting my own body, desperate not to allow myself to be pulled into the desire to be his, that I hadn't thought to look at it from the other side.
He was mine.
~*~*~
Thoughts?
Next Update will be July 22nd!