Hours later.
Matthew sat back in his throne, his eyes heavy with pleasure. He rested his head back into the velvet cushion of his chair, his arms resting casually in the arm rests. Laid before him was the entire court of Sofia—cavorting, laughing, drinking and singing. In the corner, a string quartet played richly.
The ballroom was a relative Garden of Eden. The walls were covered in soft ruched fabrics. Vines were sewn into the fabric and were snaked along the walls. The room was perfumed with the abundance of flowers—petals strewn across the floor. Roses were everywhere—roses, violets, chrysanthemums, peonies. Ladies stood in corseted gowns with wings sewn into the back. Some wore colorful ethereal gowns and had floral crowns sewn into their hair. Ladies had masks propped on a stick and others had them pressed into their face. Men were dressed like Roman soldiers, Elizabethan court men and jesters. A few wore suits and donkey masks. One brave lad dressed in a pastel suit with fairy wings much to the amusement of the crowd.
Matthew found Tyler in the crowd, dancing with one of Elena's ladies in waiting. He smirked to himself. As his eyes scanned the crowd with lazy interest until his gaze fell on a man he had never seen before. There was a dark aura around him and Matthew was immediately intrigued. Even from the distance, he could see the intensity of the man's blue eyes. When his gaze turned back to Tyler, he saw that his lover was aware that his attention had been taken. His expression was stone. Matthew smiled, amused. He wondered absently where his wife was.
Elena stood outside of the ballroom. She felt feverish but she knew that she wasn't sick. Her clammy hands shook slightly at her side and she closed her eyes. She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly through her lips. The guards at the door were watching her with obvious interest. Elena lifted her head and signaled for the guards to open the doors.
Damon stood on an elevated platform and had just taken a glass of champagne into his hand when the heavy sound of the ballroom doors got his attention. There Elena stood like a proud flower nymph, standing amongst the petals. Her dress was styled in a way that he had never quite seen before. It was a sleeveless nude colored, ankle length floor gown. The dress had no petticoats, no corset—it was fitted against Elena like a glove and at quick glance it looked as though she was nude. A cluster of flowers were strategically sewn across her breasts before swirling down and clustering again at the cleft of Venus. The back of her dress had intricately sewn fairy wings splayed out and pointing heavenward. The dress clung to her like wet paper. She wore her tiara atop her head and small rosettes were woven around the diamonds. Her hair was wavy and framing her face. Jasmine buds were in her curls like stars against the dark sky. Her arms were bare and she held a large bouquet of flowers in her hands. Her eyes stared straight ahead as she walked through the crowd that had parted for her.
Matthew watched the court bow in reverence as his wife came towards him. A swift current of lust swept briefly through him. She looked ravishing, he couldn't deny it. She almost looked like the innocent girl he married. Almost. For a moment, he forgot about the crowd and he watched her as she floated towards him. Matthew stood then and his eyes scanned the crowd. He saw the ladies whisper together and the wicked eyes of the men. Her wardrobe was, in all honesty, very scandalous. He watched the sway of her hips. He saw how the pale champagne dress clung suggestively to her like a second skin. Lust was soon replaced with disapproval.
Elena watched Matthew's eyes. When he stood, she saw something that she hadn't seen in years. Though as swiftly as it came, it was extinguished. She saw his face twitch ever so slightly. And she knew he was displeased. Elena bowed to her king, her head faced downward.
"Your Majesty. With love and affection, I welcome you back to the court," She said steadily.
She raised her hand, palm down, towards him to receive his hand.
Matthew's good breeding prevented him from scolding his wife. He took Elena's hand in a grip that was more than firm, and guided her to sit beside him.
"Wife," he acknowledged with a cordial stiffness.
"Husband," Elena said coolly.
She adjusted herself in her seat and crossed her legs, her dress riding up and exposing her calves. She flicked her wrist casually and a glass of wine was presented to her while she set down her bouquet of flowers. Elena took a deep sip of the wine and she traveled the crowd with her eyes. He was the dark raven in a field of paleness. Damon's eyes travelled across the room and stared into hers. Elena looked away quickly, feeling herself redden.
"Who is he," Matthew asked.
"What?" Elena squeaked, turning to Matthew.
"That man. Who is he?"
Elena felt her heart hammer in her chest but she relented in her anxiety when she realized that Matthew was asking for an altogether different reason. It burned her. They both turned, twin movement, and watched Damon as he spoke with a lovely Duchess. Elena's hand twitched in response and her fingers curled towards her palm and into a fist. She watched Damon smile and laugh in a way that she had never been privy to.
"Count Damon de la Salvatore," she said plainly. "He brought good tidings of my Bourbon-Parma kin."
Matthew tore his eyes off of Damon and turned back to Elena.
"You've met him?"
"He came to Vrana."
"Did he now," Matt asked curiously, "So tell me, my lovely wife, how do you find him?"
Elena's lips formed into a thin line. She knew the pretext of his questioning. It was a tactic that he had done many times before. In essence, Elena introduced her husband to many of his lovers. It enraged her. It cut her. But feigning ignorance was her best defense than confrontation.
"Pleasant," she said shortly.
"You may introduce us."
"No," Elena said before she could stop herself.
"What?" Matthew's forehead creased.
Elena smiled brilliantly and patted Matthew's hand.
"What I mean to say it," she said pleasantly, "is perhaps after we have shared a dance? It's been so long."
Matthew's features smoothed and he smiled brilliantly.
"Yes," he said. "We'll dance."
"May I finish my glass of wine?"
Matthew gave Elena a sidelong glance. His eyes drifted to the large glass in her small hand.
"Yes."
She needed to finish the glass of wine. She needed to stop her incessant shaking. It wasn't very noticeable in Elena's outward appearance, but inwardly she was vibrating. She took a great gulp of her wine and held the glass in her lap. She took another drink and took a deep breath. Slowly, ever so slowly, she felt her body begin to slightly relax. She silently thanked God while taking a final drink of the wine. She stood and gestured for her glass to be taken away. Matthew stood and took Elena's hand. The crowd parted to watch them dance the minuet. They clasped their hands together but stood apart. They bowed and began.
Damon's hand curled around his (now) wine glass and watched them with the intensity of a prowling panther. He watched Matthew's hands slide across Elena's skin with familiarity. He watched her lift her head back and laugh as her husband twirled her. He had never seen her smile in such a way and the fact that it was brought about by Matthew annoyed him. Then, for the briefest of moments, her gaze fell on Damon before she blinked and looked away. For all Damon's jealousy, he realized he was watching two very good actors putting on their best show for the court. Even still, he wanted to lunge at the Prince when he watched his hand drift to her lower back. Mercifully, the music ended. The crowd roared with a thunderous applause. They bowed and made their way through the crowd. Her face was pink with embarrassment or maybe excitement as she brought Matthew straight towards Damon.
"Count de la Salvatore," she said formally, without meeting his gaze. "I'd like to give you the honor of being introduced to my husband Prince Matthew of Bulgaria."
"Prince Matthew," Damon nodded his head stiffly.
Perhaps it was because Matthew was so bewitched with Damon, that he didn't realize what Elena realized. Damon had not bowed to him. It was a great sign of disrespect. Matthew's eyes were sapphire jewels of excitement.
"Count de la Salvatore," Matthew said sweetly, "What brings you to Bulgaria."
"Initially, I came for a business venture. Apparently, I am also a messenger—as I was asked to deliver a message to the Princess when I came to Sofia."
"What kind of business," Matthew inquired.
"I acquired a tobacco plantation outside of Krumovgrad. It's a lovely piece of land. I intend to do with it as I have done with all my other business ventures—make money." Damon smiled.
"A capitalist," Matthew realized aloud. He put his arm across Damon's back. "Welcome to Bulgaria, my good man. Let us have a drink."
Damon glanced at Elena before turning a cold smile towards Matthew as they walked towards the bar. Elena stood with her hands clasped, staring downward. She felt alone in the crowd. Cold. Dismissed.
"It would do me a great honor, Princess, if I could have this dance with you."
Elena looked up, surprised. Jeremy, Damon's footman, held a hand out to Elena. His eyes were kind and his smile was genuine. She smiled lightly and put her small hand in his palm.
"Of course," she murmured.
Away they went onto the dance floor.
Damon took a drink of scotch while he kept an eye on Elena. He listened to Matthew inflate his own ego. It took all of his energy not to roll his eyes heavenward as he spoke of his royal advantages and exploits.
"Do you like to hunt, Count," asked Matthew.
Damon's blue eyes slid up and connected with Matthew's very different blue eyes.
"I love to hunt," Damon's voice was low. "I love blood sport."
Matthew laughed obliviously.
"Then you should come hunting with my men and I. Soon."
Damon's ears perked up at Matthew's tone. He smiled at the Prince.
"It would be my pleasure," he purred.
And as God's witness, Matthew turned a shade of scarlet.
"You are a lovely dancer," Elena complimented.
Jeremy smiled.
"Oh no. You've just been lucky. Normally, I step all over the feet of lovely women."
"And what makes me so different," Elena laughed, taking a sip of champagne.
"My master would be very displeased if I crushed the dainty feet of such an enchanting woman," he remarked.
Elena looked up at Jeremy over her champagne glass and felt herself blush.
"The Count is…a very…interesting man."
"He's an honorable man," Jeremy corrected.
"Is he," Elena asked genuinely. Damon didn't strike her as honorable.
"In his own way, yes. He is also generous and quite brilliant."
"Well," Elena breathed, "I certainly hope the Count pays you a decent wage to confess of his finer attributes."
Jeremy laughed and didn't respond.
"Would you like to dance again?"
Before Elena could accept Jeremy's proposal, Damon's voice spoke from behind her.
"Unfortunately Jeremy, she must decline," Damon drawled.
He took Elena's hand and before she could protest, he led her to the dance floor. His hands slid over her waist. And Elena furrowed her brow.
"I'm unfamiliar with this dance position," she whispered.
"Put one hand around my back and rest your other on my shoulder," he said.
Elena did as he commanded and he pulled her close, pressing her against him.
"Oh God," she whispered, looking about the room.
Friends, foes and strangers danced around them but couldn't help but stare at the intimate way the Princess was dancing with the Count.
"Damon…"
"Shh," he whispered as his feet slid expertly across the floor. "Just dance."
She didn't know how to just dance anymore. She wasn't that kind of a girl anymore. She was a woman with scars that wouldn't let her forget. She…
"I have you," he assured her.
Damon secured her in his arms. Elena breathed in deeply and held it in the pit of her stomach. After a moment she breathed out of her mouth. She let her shoulders drop and relax. She listened to the violins. She listened to the strings sing—she listened to the cello's string purr. And somewhere in between there, Elena shut her eyes. She felt the music vibrate inside of her and pour along her skin. She felt the petals on her bare feet as Damon glided with her across the floor. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder…but her common sense kept her from doing so. They moved like a slow burn—warm, smooth. Elena's thumb slid back and forth across his jacket.
We are in the garden. My feet are in the grass and in the flowers. We are dancing…we are dancing…
A hush fell across the crowd as they watched them. The music was beautiful. They were beautiful. They were two flowers swaying in the breeze. It almost felt sinful to watch something so lovely, so intimate and yet no one tore their eyes away.
Matthew stood silently, a fever itching under his skin as he watched his wife and the mysterious Count. Before he could discern his emotion, the music hummed to its end…
Elena opened her eyes and in that moment, her mind was clear. She turned her face upward to Damon who was looking down at her. His eyes were blue pools and she could get lost swimming in them. She wanted to take his face into her hands and…
They bowed to the crowd graciously. Elena let her hand slip from Damon's and the warm bond was severed. Reality returned and she was cold again. She grabbed a glass of wine and drifted towards her ladies. Drifted away.
"Your Highness," Vicki smiled, "You look beautiful."
Elena smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Thank you." She turned towards Caroline who was standing beside Bonnie. "I'm glad to see you are back with us, my dear Caroline."
Caroline smiled and gave Elena a slight curtsey.
"You and I both," she said softly. "It's a miracle from God."
Elena said nothing and took another drink of champagne as she saw her husband drifting towards Damon. She sighed and turned away.
