A/N: Thanks again to all my reviewers! You definitely make this experience rewarding for me! For Bil specifically, it's all semantics. I said she had a "dark mass of curls" not a "mass of dark curls." You're right in thinking her hair is lighter but when it's dark outside with little light, hair looks darker than it is. I'm sure no one other than me cares about that picky level of detail so I'll just get on with the story. ;)
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Chapter 12
Keelin was both relieved and filled with anxiety when the day of the ball finally arrived. She was relieved because she was weary to the bone and was looking forward to the day of rest that the servants had been granted in reward for their tireless service. She was anxious because she knew that her idleness would give her far too much time to reflect on all that had passed between her and the prince.
Ever since the night in his study, her body had run hot and cold. She would find herself nearly faint with heat at the thought of his kind words to her and would then find herself trembling with cold dread at what was to follow. She was certain that she was only setting herself up for the bitterest of disappointments. Her relationship with the prince must soon come to an end. It was simply too dangerous to continue. She did not know if he felt anything for her, but she knew that she must overcome what she felt for him.
She was vastly relieved when Alinda asked her to take in the sights of the ball with her and the other servant women. They would watch from high up in the loft overlooking the castle's ballroom. Its many pillars would allow them to conceal themselves while still affording them an excellent view of the ball. The sewing women were all anxious to see the fruits of their labor and were all exceedingly curious about the Italian royal family. Keelin cared little for either of these sights; she simply did not want to be left alone with her thoughts.
Keelin followed the other women to the loft, her thoughts too distracting for her to pay attention to what they were saying. When they reached the loft, the other women's excited chatter ceased and they all peered down onto the ballroom floor. There were many other servants lurking about as well, all eager to see what would come to pass down on the floor.
As Keelin watched, she saw the king and queen enter amidst much fanfare. Alongside them walked the king and queen of Italy. The Italian king was very tall and dark with a handsome face set off by raven hair and brows. His hair was long and curly and tied with an elegant velvet bow at the nape of his neck. He wore a magnificent crown of elaborately worked gold set off with diamonds. Even from such a distance, the richness of its elegance was obvious. He was shrouded head to toe in deep blue velvet.
The Italian queen was exquisitely beautiful. Her hair was a lighter color than her husband's, but was still a deep, rich brown that tumbled in luxurious curls down to her waist. She wore a crown that matched her husband's, but was a smaller and more delicate version. She was attired in a stunning gown in the same shade of blue velvet as his, elaborately embroidered in gold.
The sewing women admired the Italian queen's gown, but could not help but feel that their own work on the English queen's purple velvet and satin gown was superior. They were delighted with the way the banners had turned out and took turns excitedly pointing out to one another the various gowns and accessories that they had sewn, which now graced the ladies of the court. Alinda chattered excitedly to Keelin, but Keelin was too distracted to pay her any mind. She too was craning her head, but it was not in an attempt to find the gowns that she had embroidered.
Finally, her eyes fell upon her desired object. Prince Rhain entered the chamber, escorting Princess Concetta. He looked magnificent in his forest green velvet cape edged in ermine and a green velvet tunic, which was accented with intricate gold embroidery. He wore green velvet breeches and hose and fine shoes upon his feet. His magnificent hair was loose about his shoulders, the auburn color of it creating a striking contrast against the green of his cape. He wore a smaller version of his father's gold and multi-colored gemstone crown and Keelin was nearly breathless at the sight of him. He looked so majestic to her.
She turned her gaze to the Princess Concetta and felt a strange stabbing sensation in her heart. The princess was even more beautiful than her mother. She looked as if she had walked straight out of a painting. She wore a pale rose velvet gown with a low neck that showcased the porcelain perfection of her skin. It was accented with pale rose silk and thread of gold embroidery and around her neck she wore a heavy necklace of diamonds. Her hair was tied back in a series of small, elaborate braids wound with pearls and a gold and diamond tiara rested magnificently upon her mass of gleaming brown hair.
Keelin turned away from the sight and looked down at her own coarse gown. She was a fool to have been thinking in the manner she had. What was she, compared to a woman as magnificent and beautiful as the princess? Could she really be so foolish as to think she had a chance of capturing the heart of a prince? She cursed herself for her own folly and forced herself to turn back and continue watching, to punish herself.
She watched everything that passed with an ever more acute sense of pain. She could not bear to see the prince conversing with the princess as they dined, to see him throw back his head in laughter at something that she had said. When the music started, it only served to increase her pain rather than alleviate it for she was forced to watch the prince take the princess into his arms and sweep her across the floor.
The sewing women watched the ball for hours, until the increasing lateness of the hour and their own exhaustion began to claim them one by one. The other servants that were lurking in the balcony began to disperse as well.
"Will you not come to bed?" Alinda asked Keelin as she prepared to leave.
"Nay, I think I shall stay and watch a while longer. I am not tired," Keelin answered rather listlessly.
Alinda regarded her for a moment and Keelin wondered if by some chance her friend could have somehow guessed at what lay in Keelin's heart. She feared that Alinda might say something, but her friend merely smiled.
"I understand," Alinda told her. "'Tis a dazzling sight, is it not? I could scarcely tear my own eyes away from the first royal ball I witnessed."
Keelin breathed a sigh of relief. "Aye, I have never seen anything so wondrous and I must continue to watch," she told Alinda. "Good night to you, my friend. I shall not tarry much longer."
"Tarry as long as you like. Who knows when we shall have another ball?" Alinda replied with a smile. She squeezed her friend's hand before departing the loft.
Keelin watched for a while longer, leaning with her right cheek pressed against one of the pillars, until she could no longer take the torture. She moved away from the rail overlooking the ballroom and further into the shadows cast by the pillars, slumping with her back against one as she lost her own strength. Suddenly, the pain sliced through her and she began to cry quietly, sliding down the pillar until she was seated. She wrapped her arms around her knees, burying her head in them and weeping openly. She wept for a long time, until she was startled by a voice very near her.
"What is the matter?" the voice asked, heavy with concern.
Her heart nearly stopped. She was certain she knew the voice and yet she could not believe it to be true. She lifted her head swiftly and saw that the prince was squatting next to her. She leapt to her feet, pressing herself back against the pillar awkwardly.
"Your Highness, I-I…" she stammered and then could speak no more.
"Why were you weeping?" he asked, looking at her with a great deal of concern. He rose from his squat, stepping closer to her and looking into her red, swollen eyes.
"I-I am merely tired," she answered lamely, wiping hastily at her tears.
"That is no reason for weeping," he said gently and she knew that he did not believe her. He studied her with a compassionate gaze and she felt herself coming undone.
"Please, Your Highness, I beg you not to ask me to tell you why I was weeping," she said, desperately, her voice shaking.
He pressed his lips together in a firm line, as if suppressing what he had been about to say. "If you do not wish to tell me, I will not press you," he said, at last.
She smiled tremulously at him. "I am most grateful," she responded. The strains of the orchestra drifted up into the hallway and Keelin glanced down to the dance floor. She could see the princess dancing with the Duke of Northumberland. "Why is Your Highness not down there?" she asked, keeping her gaze carefully averted from him.
"Because I am here," he answered.
Keelin was flustered. "Why does Your Highness not dance with the princess?"
"She dances with the duke. I am quite without a partner."
"I am certain that there is someone down there who…"
"But I am not down there, I am up here."
Keelin stared at him stupidly, not comprehending where the conversation was leading. "I do not understand," she said, at last.
"We are both of us without partners and that will not do. Will you do me the honor of granting me this dance?" he asked.
Keelin was utterly astonished. She felt as if all the breath had been knocked from her body. The world seemed to come roaring at her and then retreat just as quickly. She was afraid that she would faint. She stood staring at the prince in his elegant dress, the prince that she was beginning to love so well. He was so handsome, so refined, so far above her that she could not believe that she was even fortunate enough to speak with him.
"I am most honored, Your Highness, but truly I believe that a more suitable partner may be found…"
"I am asking you," he said quietly, but there was intensity in his voice. "Nay, I am begging you."
The notion of him begging her for a dance was so ridiculous that Keelin almost laughed aloud. As if he need beg someone like her! She was not even fit to walk the same ground as him.
"Please, I care nothing for the princess. I have strained all night to be cheerful and attentive because 'tis very important that her father sign a treaty in order to protect both of our countries. I have not had a moment's pleasure all night. All I ask is that you grant me one," he said, his voice like a gentle caress.
"If it pleases Your Highness," Keelin found herself answering. She could not believe that she had actually spoken the words, but the sound of his voice and the look in his eye had rendered her incapable of doing anything other than granting his request. Indeed, she would have done anything for him, in that moment.
The prince stepped closer to her and held out his hand. Hers was shaking as she placed it in his. The contact seemed to electrify her, causing her whole body to go weak at once. Fortunately, at that moment, the prince swept her into his arms and began to move her through the dance. She felt very lightheaded, as if none of it could be real. She could not possibly be dancing with the prince, she in her coarse servant's gown and cap, dancing with this magnificent man dressed in velvet and adorned with a gold crown.
"Are you familiar with this dance?" he asked her.
She felt her cheeks burn, knowing that her awkward steps were in stark contrast to his elegant, fluid motions. "Nay, I-I have never danced with anyone before," she answered.
"Then simply allow me to lead you," he said to her, looking into her eyes.
"I shall follow," she whispered, her words meaning so much more than he could possibly know.
"Do not think, just allow yourself to feel," he instructed.
Keelin nodded and followed his instructions. She forgot about her anxiety, forgot about who she was and what she was doing. She simply allowed herself to live in the moment and to follow his lead. Her awkwardness began to fade and she found herself lost in the dance, lost in the moment. She could still hear the music, but was conscious of nothing else save the prince and the feel of his hand in hers, his other hand upon her waist. Her heart ached until she feared that it would burst.
"You must have worked yourself blind, judging by the amount of embroidery on the ladies' gowns," he said softly, after a moment.
"I enjoy the work," Keelin said, modestly. She could hardly think for the feel of the shoulder of his velvet cape under her fingers. The softness of it was divine but was nothing to match the warmth of his body that she could feel through the fabric.
"And you are good at it. The embroidery on the Italian gowns is nothing to the embroidery on the English gowns," he replied.
Keelin looked up at him to see if he was mocking her and nearly gasped at the smile that was upon his face. It was a smile of such pure happiness that she could not help but smile in return.
"You flatter me," she told him, her smile widening.
"I speak the truth," he told her. The hand at her waist tightened, pulling her slightly closer to him and he shifted his other hand, twining his fingers with hers. "You dance well for someone who has never before danced."
"Only because you are such a fine tutor," she told him, her voice unsteady.
She wished the dance would go on and on forever. The prince did not reply to her statement, instead resting silent and gazing into her eyes. Several moments passed and he seemed on the verge of saying something more to her when they heard the sound of a voice in search of him, calling out his name. Fear stabbed through her and the two of them froze in their spot. She heard the voice again and turned to flee, but the prince tightened his grasp on her hand, preventing her flight.
"Please, I cannot see you again tomorrow for there is to be a boar hunt, but say that you will meet me in the forest the next day after I have taken my evening meal, in the same place where we met by chance last time," he said, speaking rapidly, his voice urgent. His expressive eyes stared deeply into hers.
"Nay, I…" she began.
"Rhain, where are you?" the voice called out, much closer this time.
"I beg you," the prince said, his eyes pleading.
Even though she knew it was wrong, even though she knew it was dangerous, she could not deny him. "I shall be there," she whispered.
With those words, she slipped from his grasp and fled just in time. Just as she reached the stairs and began her descent, she could hear the other voice asking the prince what he was doing and could hear the prince responding that he had stepped up there merely to take some air. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she could hear no more and she increased her pace, taking the steps two at a time.
