Extravagant ball gowns swirled around her in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors that rivaled the gaudy, golden chandeliers and sconces placed in close succession along the walls and ceiling to provide as much light as possible for the gathering. Crystal glasses and ornamental plates exported from foreign kingdoms, glimmered ethereally along the feasting tables where delicacies from around the world were stacked in appealing designs.
As the wealthy did, her father put forth a large expense to showcase his riches. The marble floors beneath her feet were chiseled and painted with intricate motifs by some of the most prestigious artists in her time. Similarly to the floor, the walls were also painted by artists. Vinery winding around the crafted molding connecting the ceiling to the walls, gave way to a mural of the king at the center of the room. The depiction of the king's scowl was uncanny in its realism. It was as though the artist had detected the loathsome, angry soul behind the disapproving stare.
"Princess," came a higher pitched, though unmistakably masculine, voice. She tore her eyes from her father's portrait and smiled politely at the potential suitor.
He donned white hose and a blue tunic that complimented the severe sapphire orbs that reflected the candles' lighting. Aside from the appealing draw of his gaze, there was nothing about the man that would have made her look twice had he not singled her out.
Not that attraction to her spouse was relevant, neither was she so shallow to judge someone by their appearance. Still, some part of her hoped that she would be attracted to her husband- even if by a bit.
"Shall we dance?" he asked, lowering himself into a customary bow.
She smiled and committed her hand into his clammy grasp, allowing him to lead her forward a step into the dance. Upon her arrival, the musicians halted their tune and started anew.
She wished they hadn't, as now everyone had noticed that the princess had accepted her first dance and with whom she danced. Gossiping tongues would be wagging like a hunting dog's tail after catching his prey.
What was worse, the man, however royalty may have been in his blood, stumbled countless times. Each time he stomped on her foot, she righted herself with the eloquence that had been ingrained into the very fabric of her being, and assured him all was well.
Once the melody concluded, she had escaped relatively unscathed. It was only seconds later before another suitor asked to dance with her again and she forced a smile and agreed.
As was customary.
The night dragged on at an excruciating dull pace. After several dances, everything ached and she longed for some fresh air and quiet.
As she left the arms of one man, another swooped her up back onto the dance floor. The princess didn't care to look at who held her anymore. It didn't matter. The decision of who she would wed was left up to her father. There was no need to try to impress anyone, since all the men longed to be united to her kingdom.
"So, Princess Ayla," muttered the man as he guided her through the sea of dancing guests. "I must say, I'm quite disappointed."
She blinked and glanced up into a chiseled face. With coal black tendrils framing a strong jaw and green eyes beneath a cover of dark lashes, the man the man was undeniably handsome. Yet, the sneer he wore tested the limits of his appealing features. More was the air of arrogance about him that made her instantly dislike the man.
"Oh?" she asked, entertaining the man's musings only long enough for the song to come to a close.
"Yes," he said, staring down at her as he twirled her then directed her further down the room and closer to her father's throne. "You see, despite your father's deplorable attempt to hide his debts from these panting hound dogs sniffing around your skirts like the pathetic, greedy souls they are, he has failed in one area."
She barely kept herself from punching the man. Although she had never succumbed to such a violent outburst, the urge to do so now was both overwhelming and alarming.
Unable to keep up with the tune in her anger, she stopped and lowered her hands from his.
"And what is that, sir?" she asked, jutting out her chin in defiance.
He stopped as well and took a step closer to her, eliminating the space between them and making her heart thrum uncontrollably.
Dipping low, he muttered, "Yes. You see, despite encasing everything in gold, he has failed to present a beautiful daughter for us men."
She gasped.
"Why! How-how dare you!" she sputtered, skin hot with embarrassment.
Smirking, he bowed low as if to mock her, then turned and left the dancing area with her staring, wide-eyed after him.
-
Standing in front of the full length mirror, she seethed at the remembrance of the man's words at the ball.
The man was an absolute toad!
Sure, at first he had been appealing in a beguiling sort of way. Taken in by his handsome features, she had secretly admired the man. But all of that ended when he opened his mouth.
Not beautiful.
She tried to assess the woman in the mirror from an objective point of view. Her hair, although long and flowy, was abnormally pale like snow and her skin was tanned by the sun, creating a peculiar contrast against her hair. What was more, her hips were thinner than what men sought for in women for child birthing purposes. Taller than most men, she had to have her own dresses specifically tailored to her height, making shopping premade dresses impossible.
But she had never looked at herself as unappealing until then. Now, as she stared, she couldn't counter the man's observation.
A knock interrupted her pity.
"Yes?"
Without announcing himself, her father barged in. Wearing a long, red cloak that swished about at his heels, as well as his crown and a fur-lined tunic, the man embodied nobility.
If only she could borrow from his stony demeanor perhaps she could have properly steeled herself against the anger that flashed within his darkened expression.
"I have spoken with Prince Aden," spoke the king, his voice bouncing off the stone walls of her chamber. His beard twitched as his lips tugged further into a frown. "He will not marry you."
She tried to match the name to a memory, but failed.
"I saw him dancing with you the other night," her father went on. "You remember him, surely? The dark-haired man with the purple tunic."
Her heart skipped as she realized he meant the man who had insulted her.
"Father," she said, carefully. "He was awful."
"He was smiling throughout all of the exchange," her father argued. "What did you say to upset him?"
"I didn't say anything! Truly, it was him."
Her father glared at her. After a few moments, he glanced away, but his hands remained balled into fists at his sides.
"It is of no consequence," he growled. "He will not have you, but Prince William will. You will go to him and flatter him. His kingdom will bring us riches, though I dare say not anywhere near what Aden's was capable of."
She bowed her head and went to do as her father had instructed, but as she moved to pass him, he grabbed her by the arm and squeezed.
"And this time, do not fail me."
His whisper sent a chill down her spine.
-
Prince Aden was a man of strict morals, but a quick temper.
On occasion, his morals took on a subjective role while his temper flared to life like a wildfire, with little regard to whom he hurt with his cutting words; much like the night of the ball.
King Jachu was a despicable diplomat. While people in his lands scoured for meals of meager portions, the king hosted a grand event in hopes of wedding his only daughter off to the wealthiest man. Unfortunately, for the king, the wealthiest man was not interested.
Sure, the woman was breathtaking. Even now as he recalled his words, he felt the sting of regret at the way he had treated her, but she too had turned a blind eye to her father's sins and her people's suffering.
The entire family had issues and he wanted no part of it.
"Prince Aden," Sir Bennett called from the door frame of the guest chamber. "We await for departure."
Aden nodded and turned away from the window he had been looking out. It was night, but the time of day made little difference when he had several knights traveling with him.
Following the knight out of the chamber, he made his way down a long corridor. When they rounded a corner, he ran into a body, nearly sending that individual onto their back.
He muttered something beneath his breath, preparing to admonish the person for not being more careful when the crown of white hair haloing a familiar face stopped him.
He sneered. "Do you usually make it a point to run into strangers in the corridor, Princess?"
The woman pulled away, keeping her head tilted away from him, but the wild look in her gaze told him something was wrong.
"Princess, have you been struck?" Sir Bennett asked, glancing down at the princess from the opposite side.
Forgetting herself, she shook her head, but Aden saw all he needed to know when the light ignited the purple stain beneath her eye.
"Here, allow me-"
She swatted his hand away and stumbled. Reaching out, he caught her before she collapsed.
"Unhand me!"
He would have been happy to do so, if she didn't teeter at the slightest lift of his hand.
He glanced to Sir Bennett for guidance, but the man looked as uncertain as he felt.
"Ayla, are you well?" Bennett asked, as if the answer was not obvious. "Princess, have you been poisoned?"
Aden's brow shot up at the knight's question. Then, he held her at arm's length and looked her over. The woman appeared disheveled and frightened. The discoloration of skin along her eye extended to her jawline. Whoever had struck her, had little regard to her disposition as a woman or her title.
He lifted a hand to remove the stray wisps of hair from her face, but she flinched. Indignation churned his gut.
"Come on," he cooed, gentling his grasp around her arms. "I won't harm you. Let's get you to your chamber."
"No! No, please, not there."
"Okay, not there," he agreed, quickly. He glanced at Sir Bennett. "Are the horses ready?"
The man frowned, but nodded.
"Ready one for the princess. She will leave with us."
"But, Your Royal Highness-"
"Go ahead, Bennett," he interrupted the knight. "We'll be right along."
The knight looked as though he wanted to argue, but he pressed his lips into a tight line, bowed, and went to carry out the order.
Once he was gone, Aden glanced down at the princess in his arms. She clung to him and laid her head against his chest. Trembling, she felt weak and small. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to protect her and see the one who had hurt her, face justice at the end of his sword.
-
Through the fog, she vaguely felt the prince holding her upright on top of his mount. It had been improper to flee with him and his men in the middle of the night.
Her father was sure to be enraged when he discovered what she had done, but it was nothing compared to his wrath that would follow once he found out that she had failed him where Prince Will was concerned.
The man had poisoned her. That she was sure. After spending the day in his company, the man began drinking. When he pressed her for a kiss and she denied him, he had hit her. She fled from the room, but as she ran, the effects of the tainted wine had made her steps unsteady.
She shuttered at what would have happened had Prince Aden not stumbled upon her before Prince Will found her.
"We're here," Aden spoke in her ear.
She tried to nod, but instead her head lulled back against him and remained on his shoulder.
Consciousness waning, she was little help to the poor man as he and his men assisted her off the horse and inside. A woman's voice, low and soothing, guided the men to a room where someone laid her down onto a bed.
A gentle touch brushing against her brow made her sigh and close her eyes. At last, she felt safe enough to let the drowsiness sweep her up and carry her away into nothingness.
-
Aden's father remained silent as he chewed over the explanation spoken by his son. With his mother at his side, the king appeared unsettled, but not upset as Aden would have thought he would be after hearing how his son had kidnapped the princess from a powerful, neighboring kingdom the night before.
"I trust you, son," the king said, nodding. He glanced at his queen and offered her his hand. Aden's mother smiled and took her husband's hand. A silent communication seemed to pass between them. Their connection made him jealous for someone who understood and loved him in the same way. Unbidden, Ayla's face appeared in his mind at the thought.
"We are proud of you, my boy," his father said, at last, turning back to Aden. "However, we fear the consequences you may face for your actions may be severe. Instead of informing her father of the crime, you took his daughter and sheltered her here, in a stranger's castle. He may see it as an act of war."
"Act of war?" Aden scoffed. "If he had protected her, I wouldn't have had-"
The king raised his hand, cutting him off. "I'm not blaming you, son. I'm only pointing out what the king may think. Do not let anger get the better of you. Mightier is he that controls his temper, than even he who conquers an entire kingdom."
Knowing his father was right, he took a steadying breath and nodded. His mother beamed.
"You'll do what is right," the queen assured, confidently. "Take care of her."
He glanced at his mother, wondering what her words implied.
"She's beautiful," she had said, the night before when he had brought her in. He had agreed aloud without meaning to and the queen had given him a knowing look, though he knew not why.
Before he could think of a response, the door to his father's study swung wide, revealing a company of soldiers accompanied by his father's knights.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the king, rising from his seat.
One of the men stepped forward and bowed. "King Jachu is grieved by the actions of the prince. He will see past the offense if the prince agrees to marry his daughter in order to save her ruined reputation."
"Ruined reputation? I saved her!"
The soldier regarded him with a scowl. "Saved her? You stole her away in the dead of night and brought her to your home. Her reputation will be forever tarnished."
A woman's reputation meant everything in their society. Aden knew all too well that once a woman's reputation had been ruined, no reputable man would marry her, even if she was royalty. Her kingdom would go to the next in line and she would be cast out onto the streets lest the new heir took pity on her.
Aden ground his teeth and considered his options, but there was only one he could think of and it had already been presented.
"Fine." He looked at his father and mother. "I will marry her."
His father appeared grim, but the queen looked almost hopeful and relieved.
-
Ayla could hardly breathe.
It was her wedding day.
After coming to, it had taken a few days for the poison to wear off. Fortunately, it had been a concoction meant to weaken, not kill her.
The cathedral was packed with countrymen and the living lineage of the royal family. Her father had sent word that he was unable to attend, but wished the couple happiness. She only prayed happiness could be had.
Aden had only visited her once since she had awakened and that was to tell her what had happened and why they had to marry.
It was strange that days before she detested the man for insulting her, but now she was to spend the rest of her life under a vow to God to love him.
Her stomach churned with worry.
Every eye turned to her as she walked down the aisle. She kept her gaze down until she reached the front of the room where Aden stood staring at her.
He gave her a reassuring smile and took her hand.
Chewing her lower lip, she glanced away at the priest as he began the vows.
"You look like you're about to be sick," Aden whispered, so low she nearly missed it.
"Do you remember the ball?" she whispered back.
A frown creased his brow, but he nodded.
"I appreciate what you've done for me. I only wish I could have married someone who thought me to be..." Words failed her as tears stung her eyes and a lump rose in her throat.
"Beautiful?" he offered, swallowing.
She gave him a small nod, but did not look him in the eye.
He sighed. "I was a fool. You see, I blamed you for your father's actions. I know of his debts and his foolishness has brought starvation upon his people."
Aden was correct. Her father had outstanding debts. Instead of paying the debts off, he accumulated more debt in order to live in luxury. Their people had suffered tremendously and she hated it. Whenever possible, she had snuck food into the villages. Of course, word got back to her father and he locked her in her chamber for three days without food to teach her not to be 'wasteful,' as he had put it.
Aden, gave her palm a squeeze, bringing her attention back to the present.
Staring down into her eyes, he said, "You are beautiful. I'm sorry for being a fool. I vow to protect you, Ayla, and to love you with my whole being. Your father will not harm you any longer."
Her eyes swam with unbidden tears at his words, unaware that he had spoken much louder than intended and the entire room was arrested, awaiting her reply. But words escaped her.
Instead, she kissed him. Caught off guard, he hesitated, but then he gently wrapped his arms around her waist and held her to himself, kissing her in return.
The room erupted in elated shouts and applause.
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