"Most girls would be thrilled at the prospect of getting to date a prince…"
Mary blinked a few times, distracted. For the past few moments, she had been staring into the full-length mirror in the television room, getting a clear view of the dress she would be wearing for the ball, but Narcisse's words pulled her out of her daydream.
He was standing to her side, and Mary could see his refection in the mirror.
"Not me," she told him firmly, determinedly. She was not in the mood to play games right now.
Narcisse simply shrugged and smirked. He seemed almost impressed by her answer, and Mary imagined that she had passed yet another one of his mysterious tests.
"I hope the dress is to your liking, at least?" he asked her, almost dubiously, when Mary went back to staring at the dress in the mirror.
This evening gown was made of black silk, and it was rather more elegant than the lace dress she'd worn earlier. Her stylists had also accessorised the expensive dress with even more expensive jewellery, which included diamond earrings and necklaces and bracelets. And of course her tiara. She was almost dazzled, every time the glittering jewels reflected back at her through the mirror. And not in a good way.
"I know it perhaps wouldn't be your own personal choice," Narcisse added. He actually sounded a bit apologetic, this time.
Mary sighed. She had tried her best, in the time since Francis had left the room, to persuade the Publicity Team to allow her to wear a dress of her choice tonight, the way she had done for the opening ceremony, but this time, Narcisse hadn't granted her wish.
He'd gone on and on about how she would make Scotland look weak, if she showed up in an evening gown that looked plain and simple, especially in comparison to the expensive clothes that Francis and his father would no doubt wear, but deep down, Mary suspected that her mother had intervened at some point, and Queen Marie had probably insisted that Narcisse dress Mary up in something much more formal than the lace dress for tonight's party.
"It's fine," said Mary, not wanting to get into a discussion about her lack of choices right now. If she did, it would only cause her feelings of anger towards her mother to increase.
For a few more minutes, Narcisse briefed her on all the questions that the journalists attending the party would probably ask her tonight, and Mary rehearsed her answers with him, reciting the full name of the Italian designer who had designed her dress, and basic information about the diamonds she was wearing, as well as her initial thoughts on the opening ceremony, and then more phrases focusing on how she was waiting to see how things played out, when it came to arranging the first date that would take place as part of the show. She kept that rehearsed answer brief. She didn't even want to think about the actual dating part of the show just yet.
After a little while, Mary started to feel overwhelmed again, especially as Narcisse's assistants and all of the stylists were becoming increasingly loud and frantic as the time for their expected arrival at the ballroom drew ever closer.
"Will you excuse me for a moment?" Mary asked Narcisse, her tone almost pleading now. She wasn't even sure if he would let her leave the room-her mother had probably told him not to-but she had to try.
"I'll stay right outside," she promised Narcisse, when he looked at her with a very uncertain expression on his face.
She meant it, this time. There would be no point in running now. The guards would find her.
Finally, Narcisse nodded. "I'll instruct the rest of the team to give you some privacy, for the next few minutes," he promised her.
"Thank you," said Mary, before she started to head out of the room. A little voice in her head told her that it might be unwise to get into the habit of negotiating with Narcisse and making promises with him, especially after his exchange with Francis before, but right now, she didn't really feel like she had anybody else to turn to.
When she was safely outside the television room, Mary sat herself down on a spare seat just a little further down the corridor. She noted that it was rather difficult to sit down and get comfortable in this dress, and she let out yet another sigh of exasperation.
Automatically, Mary reached for her phone, which she'd hidden away in an inner pocket of her dress when she started to get ready.
She'd left her social media pages open on her phone, where she'd been reading a thread of comments about the opening ceremony. For a minute or so, she scrolled through a few more of these comments...
Mary Stuart is so lucky! one teenage girl had written. She gets to live in a castle, and now she gets to marry a prince!
I wish my parents would set me up with a prince! another had written.
Again, Mary sighed to herself. Of course this is how it would look, to those watching from the outside. How ungrateful she would seem, if she ever complained in public about the situation her family had put her in.
Yet things were different, from inside the castle walls. This would be no fairy tale; Mary could not simply marry a handsome prince and live happily ever after. With every great privilege came even greater responsibility, as James always told her.
Finally, she minimised the comments page and ran a search for other information that she'd been planning on looking into. She'd already decided that she needed to know as much as possible about the French royal family from now on, in order to stay one step ahead of them, and she was eager to get started on her research.
There definitely seemed to be a common pattern in the most recent news articles from the French papers that Mary had pulled up in her search…
Attacks in France at a Record Low!
French Government Tightens Security!
French Royal Family backs Government in Zero-tolerance Security Policy!
More Arrests of Suspected Rebels!
Riot Suspects taken in for Questioning!
Mary read through the headlines, one after another. Was this the reason why her parents had set her up with Francis? Were they hoping that an alliance with France would bring extra security to Scotland? Were they hoping to prevent further rebellions in Mary's home country, whatever the cost?
"Ah, Mary!"
Mary was startled by the sound of her brother's voice, calling out to her from further down the corridor. She stared at him in surprise for a few moments. She hadn't expected to see James until later on, at the party.
He walked briskly towards her. Mary noticed that someone else was with him, although in the relative darkness of the corridor, she couldn't quite make out who it was.
Hurriedly, Mary hid her phone in her pocket, although she wasn't sure why she was acting like she had something to hide.
"Mary!" James said again when he reached her. He stopped and stood over her while she remained seated. For some reason, he was grinning, like he knew some sort of secret that his younger sister didn't yet know.
Mary frowned at him in confusion, wondering what he could possibly look so happy about.
"Mary," he told her, "I'd like to introduce you to one of our newest members of staff…"
Mary continued to stare at her brother through narrowed eyes, silently asking him why it was so important to introduce her to new staff members at a time like this, when she could barely think clearly, but then the person who had been standing behind James stepped out of the shadows, and Mary temporarily forgot about everything else that was going on as she stared at this person with wide eyes.
She couldn't believe it. It was the boy she'd encountered in the village earlier. The boy with the blue eyes.
She remembered now, how she'd seen him out the window earlier, too, walking up the long path leading towards the castle.
She'd wondered before, what he was doing at the castle, and she'd half-hoped that he would be the boy who her parents were going to set her up with, but after that, she'd attended the opening ceremony, and he hadn't been there, and then Francis had walked through the door leading to the Throne Room, and everything else that had happened earlier in the day had faded into the background the moment Francis stood in front of her.
Now, it made sense that she had seen this young man walking towards the castle earlier. He was going to be working here. What a strange miracle that was.
"Mary, let me introduce you to Sebastian," said James, as though he and Mary hadn't already walked past him in the village earlier in the day. "He's recently been employed to work here with the other new staff at the castle. I thought it would be a good idea to introduce all our new staff to everyone, so we can all work together…"
How smoothly James lied, Mary thought. How easily he concealed the truth. What else did James hide, behind the mask of duty he wore every day?
"Sebastian," said Mary, not really knowing how she was supposed to react.
It was almost strange, to know that this boy with blue eyes had a name; to see that he was actually here, right now, in the castle where she lived. Especially after all those subtle glances in the village, when Mary had passed him as though from a great distance, not even within his orbit. Until now.
"Bash," Sebastian cut into the conversation as he leaned forward to shake Mary's hand, as though he really was meeting her for the first time. Apparently, James had found a willing accomplice in his lies.
"Bash," Mary repeated, feeling a bit silly now.
She just wasn't sure what else she was supposed to say, especially when her protective older brother was currently watching her, waiting for her reaction.
She supposed she would have to get better at this sort of thing, especially if she was going to convincingly go out on dates with Francis, with the whole nation watching.
"Sebastian will be working in the stables, with the horses," James continued. "He'll be attending the ball tonight, too."
To a casual observer, James would sound cool, distant, aloof, almost, as though Bash's attendance at the ball was of no particular importance to him. But Mary caught a hint of smirk on his face as he spoke the words, and she knew what was going on behind the performance...
This was what he was giving her, in exchange for her co-operation in playing along with the matchmaking show, or perhaps as a way of apologising for not telling her about Francis when she'd asked him earlier.
He was giving her glimpses of this handsome young man from the castle windows. He was giving her the occasional interaction, or a stolen smirk or a wink in her direction.
For one guilty moment, Mary couldn't help thinking about a speech made by a Scottish rebel that she'd heard on the news fairly recently:
"Just when things become unbearable, and we threaten to rebel, they throw us scraps to keep us quiet!"
Mary shook her head, trying to clear that thought from her mind. She knew it wasn't healthy, to be thinking that way right now.
"Mary, I'm Mary," she babbled, even though she knew she probably sounded ridiculous, especially when Bash looked so confident.
"I know," he told her with her smirk, his eyes seeming to twinkle even in the dark corridor.
Mary noticed that he hadn't let go of her hand yet.
"A-hem..."
Mary jumped at the sound of Narcisse clearing his throat, even though she was used to hearing him by now.
She turned around and saw him standing in the doorway.
Hurriedly, Mary let go of Sebastian's hand. Again, she couldn't help feeling guilty-especially as Narcisse was regarding Bash with a raised eyebrow-even though she didn't know why she felt that way. Francis wasn't her boyfriend, and she highly doubted that he truly wanted her to be his girlfriend.
"The ball will be starting soon," said Narcisse. He sounded a little impatient, and Mary suspected that she'd stayed outside the television room for longer than Narcisse had planned.
"I'll see you later, Your Grace," said Sebastian with a bow. His tone of voice was suddenly formal, and all hints of the mocking smirk and the twinkle in his eyes were gone now that they had an audience. He turned and started to head down the corridor, with James following in his footsteps.
"Are you ready?" Narcisse asked her, the moment James and Sebastian had left.
"No," Mary told him honestly, "but let's go anyway."
She didn't want to put with anymore fussing and bickering from the hair and makeup team. She just wanted to get this evening over with.
Narcisse allowed Mary to walk ahead as they headed down several flights of stairs towards the ballroom.
All of Mary's stylists and her Publicity Team followed from a discreet distance-just out of view of any cameras that might take photos as Mary walked towards the ballroom, but close enough that they would be there if she needed them.
Mary concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other; she focused on not tripping over her dress or her own feet. She kept her head up, trying to look proud, strong. Nobody would know that she'd sat in the television room crying her eyes out only a couple of hours ago, lost in one of her worst memories. Except Francis.
When she arrived outside the large double doors that marked the main entrance to the castle's ballroom, there was already a flurry of activity going on.
She saw that Francis and his father were surrounded by their own staff from the French castle, all of them either trying to fix Francis's hair and tie, or holding various phones and papers up in the prince's face, still expecting him to attend to official documents, even right before a party was due to take place. Kings were never truly off duty.
She also noticed that Francis had changed out of his casual jeans and white jumper. Now, he looked smart in an elegant suit, with a tiny French flag pinned to his jacket pocket.
As Mary approached the French royals tentatively, Henry sneered at her, the way he always did, and Francis abruptly stopped talking to his staff members about issues in France. He seemed to freeze to the spot in Mary's presence.
After a few moments of awkward silence, in which Francis stared at her almost intently, opening and closing his mouth a few times as though he had something he wanted to say to her but couldn't find the words, he finally seemed to give up with a shrug.
Mary couldn't help wondering what it was about her presence that always made him look so tense.
With another sneer, Henry left Francis's side and started to head into the ballroom. "The cameras are watching, Francis," he muttered cryptically to his son before he walked away, while Francis scowled at his retreating back.
Feeling tense herself, Mary glanced over her shoulder to see if Narcisse was still standing behind her, but he and the rest of her team had apparently vanished from view at some point. Mary guessed that they had most likely already entered the ballroom. She was on her own with the future king of France now.
She tried her best to compose herself, as the camera crew had just arrived to film their entrance into the ballroom for the television show.
"Are you ready?" she asked Francis, as two members of the television crew started to open the double doors.
"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, with almost a hint of a smile. He looked slightly more relaxed, now that his father wasn't here.
Then he was all-business again as the doors opened and the cameras started rolling.
Mary nodded as they both got into position, trying at the same time to stay calm. The two of them were expected to walk into the ballroom together while the cameras filmed them, and Mary therefore didn't want to make a mess of their entrance.
Francis looked a lot more composed than she felt; he was standing tall and proud, with his hands clasped behind his back. Every inch a future king.
Mary had only taken a few steps into the room when she suddenly caught sight of the three steps that led from the main doors down to the polished wooden floor of the dance floor. She'd forgotten about those steps.
She suddenly felt a rush of panic that she wouldn't be able to get down the stairs; that her heels would be too high, or she would step on the hem of her dress. It didn't help that she was walking into a ballroom that looked vaguely similar to the one in the French castle, with Francis Valois by her side, and the bad memories still fresh in her mind.
"What do I do?" she whispered almost frantically to Francis, hating that she sounded so vulnerable right now. Hating that she was asking him for advice. She had known all along that she wasn't cut out for this royalty thing.
"Here," he whispered, without any sort of hesitation. Quickly, Francis held his hand out to her, and Mary took it, trying not to grip it too tight as they both started to descend the stairs.
It was strange, Mary thought, how Francis seemed to wake up during moments of stress or conflict. It was like he was more 'himself' in those more urgent moments.
"You can use your other hand to hold onto your dress, if that would be easier," Francis suddenly whispered, his lips barely moving as he offered her instructions as to how to walk without tripping over. Apparently, he had mastered the art of carrying out private conversations without being heard by the public. "And we'll walk slowly, if you'd prefer?"
Mary could only nod as she continued to take slow, tentative steps down the stairs. She tried not to speculate as to how many other girls he had walked with into rooms like this, hand-in-hand. Whether he still did things like this with Olivia. At the very least, Francis seemed to be keeping to the tentative alliance that they'd made in the television room earlier. Perhaps they really could both help each other get through this process.
The rows of guests who were watching them avidly all smiled when they noticed their joined hands. Mary sighed to herself. There would no doubt be articles about this later, claiming that the hand-holding was some sort of sign that their romance was officially getting started.
The ballroom was nowhere near as grand as the one in 'Chateau Valois', but it was beautiful in its own way: the cream-coloured walls were decorated with various golden patterns, including those of a lion and a unicorn-a couple of emblems of Scotland-and the domed ceiling was held up by various pillars that ran all the way down to the floor.
There were several circular tables that had been positioned around the room, where guests would be able to sit and talk and eat and drink. A medium-sized chandelier hung from the ceiling, and there was also a piano in the far corner of the room.
Mary knew that her mother was watching her from one corner of the ballroom, but she determinedly avoided meeting the queen's gaze. She had no wish to talk to her mother tonight.
She realised that her parents must have hired a live band for the evening's entertainment, as a few men in suits were setting up microphones around a cluster of musical instruments.
As soon as they had made their official entrance into the ballroom, both Mary and Francis were ushered over to opposite sides of the room, where various journalists were lined up, ready to ask them questions for the interviews that they would publish in their magazines. There were also several members of the press present, standing between the journalists, ready to take their photos.
Trying to look as calm and as graceful as possible, Mary moved down the line of journalists and photographers, answering all of their questions about who had designed her dress, and giving them the necessary historical information about the diamonds that she had been permitted to wear tonight.
She decided to answer candidly when several journalists asked her about the opening ceremony, telling them that she had been really nervous, in the hope that this would explain away her rabbit-trapped-in-headlights look-an image that would no doubt be plastered all over tomorrow's magazines and newspapers.
After that, she even managed to joke about her less-than-perfect skills in speaking the French language, laughing with them all about how she would probably have to improve now. She realised that it was so much easier to interact with the media, when she was speaking in honesty.
Eventually, she swapped sides with Francis, and Mary went through the answering-questions process all over again with the journalists on the other side of the ballroom, only pausing now and again to take sips from the glass of water that her older brother had helpfully brought over for her. She had a feeling that James would be going out of his way to help her out for a little while, more out of guilt than anything else. She would have to be very careful to not take advantage of his generosity; to not push him into breaking anymore rules with her.
When she got to the end of the second line of journalists, Mary was interrupted by Lola, who was waiting for her with an eager expression on her face.
"Mary," she asked her, the second she had Mary's full attention, "can we dance with Francis tonight?"
Blinking, Mary looked behind Lola to see a group of other women who also worked at the castle, all of them with eager expressions that matched Lola's.
"Of course," Mary replied quickly, trying not to sound too surprised that they were asking her permission. It was strange, how they felt that they had to ask her; almost as though Francis was somehow hers.
Finally, the live band started playing the opening notes of a song.
Just as she started to wonder whether she would be expected to dance with Francis tonight, Mary was led to the middle of the dance floor by a member of the television crew, where her father already stood waiting, a nervous-looking grin on his face, as though he wasn't sure if Mary would be ready to talk to him just yet.
Apparently, the show's producers thought that it would be fitting for her to share an opening dance with her father.
Obediently, Mary stood opposite her father. With a bow, they both started to dance together. Mary was well-rehearsed when it came to dances like this-this is how many official parties at royal and political events got started. And yet, it felt so strange, to be the centre of attention, with all eyes in the room on her. Mary was so used to hiding away at events like these, confined to the background while all the attention was on her brother.
There was a tense silence for a couple of minutes before her father finally spoke. "Oh, Mary. Mary, Mary, Mary…" he babbled, sounding genuinely at a loss as to what to say or do at the moment.
He sounded so dejected, and so apologetic, that Mary found it difficult to stay angry at him.
"Father, what's the matter?" she asked him in a whisper, as the cameras continued to film. This 'party' was nothing more than a glorified television show episode, and Mary knew it. She also knew that she would therefore have to be careful about not being overheard.
"The books just won't balance this month, Mary," he replied with a sigh. "They just won't balance…"
Sometimes, it seemed to Mary that her father lived in his own little world, conducting private conversations in his head, but still, she had nearly always been able to pick up on what he was talking about.
"I'm sure we'll work something out," she tried to reassure him, although she wasn't sure if they would 'work something out'. Not when it came to money in Scotland. She wondered if this was another reason why her mother wanted Scotland to ally with France-for economic purposes.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Lola had wasted no time in asking Francis to dance. The two of them were laughing at some sort of private joke as they danced together, and Francis actually looked comfortable, spending time with Lola. More comfortable than he usually looked when he was around Mary. Mary wasn't sure why this bothered her so much.
She saw that Francis's father, Henry, was uncharacteristically hidden away in a far corner of the room, deep in conversation with a woman with dark hair. Mary felt another flicker of recognition as she looked at the woman, even though she was fairly certain that she'd never seen her here before.
"Nothing seems balanced at the moment, Mary," her father added, with a pointed look at her. "And for that, I'm so, so sorry-"
"Father, please do not worry," Mary told him firmly, hoping that she at least sounded sincere. "I'll be fine. We'll all get through this, together."
She could lie just as convincingly as her brother, and she knew it.
Looking slightly reassured by Mary's words, her father continued to dance with her until the end of the song, when he moved aside so that Aloysius could dance with Mary instead.
Mary spent the next couple of songs reassuring Lord Castleroy that she was fine, and that she'd just been feeling a little nervous earlier, when she'd run out of the Throne Room. And yes, of course she was looking forward to her first date with Francis.
She was grateful when he changed the subject at last and started talking about his upcoming wedding to Greer.
From over Castleroy's shoulder, she watched as Francis danced with one of Lola's work colleagues, before he shared another dance with Lola.
As Mary looked from Francis to all of the women who were watching him with expressions of barely-disguised adoration, she realised that he really did look like the stereotypical handsome prince from some sort of fairy tale. Like a Prince Charming. She could see why all these girls were so fascinated with him.
If somebody had asked her to sketch a picture of a typical prince from a story book, she probably would have drawn a young man who looked similar to Francis, complete with the wavy blond hair and a formal suit. Yet she also knew that in reality, he was much more than a cardboard cut-out of a prince, and perhaps this was what scared her the most.
Would she have drawn herself next to Francis, as his princess? She wasn't sure…
Again, an image of white petals appeared in her mind, but still, she couldn't place the memory. But now, she suspected that it had something to do with a prince and a princess.
After another dance with Lola, Francis left the dance floor to take a break. He leaned against one of the pillars on the right-hand side of the room, still close to all the goings-on in the room.
King Henry remained hidden away in the far corner, apparently happy to let his son take centre-stage, if only for tonight.
Every now and again, Mary had the strange feeling that Francis was watching her as she danced, but whenever she looked right at him, he seemed to look away. Or perhaps he hadn't even been looking at her in the first place, and Mary was only imagining things.
Aloysius had to leave the party early, to get back to Greer and the children, so, as the next song began to play, Mary went to dance with her brother, who had just joined her on the dance floor.
At the same time, she noticed that Bash had just walked into the room. Immediately, he walked over to Francis and introduced himself.
Francis shook his hand with a smile, looking genuinely happy that there was another young man around his age at the castle, and the two of them got into conversation, both of them laughing and joking with one another.
Mary wasn't sure why this new-found friendship between Francis and Sebastian made her feel so uneasy. It was almost as though they might accidentally end up revealing secrets about her to one another, although Mary wasn't entirely sure what those secrets were.
As she watched Francis and Bash, she couldn't help noticing some sort of resemblance between the two of them, even though they looked so different. Perhaps it something in their body language, or their mutual gestures…
"Mary, the cameras are watching," James suddenly whispered to her, pulling her out of her thoughts.
Mary shrugged apologetically. James must have noticed her looking at Bash.
"I suppose Sebastian was the best possible man for the job at the castle," she fired back at her brother, keeping her tone of voice mocking, sarcastic. "And I suppose you happened to be on the interview panel?"
"Something like that," James replied, a hint of a smirk on his face, reminding Mary of the more rebellious boy from her childhood, before his sense of 'duty and honour' had taken over completely.
Run away with me, James! she desperately wanted to plead with him. We could go tonight, if we really wanted to. We could sneak out of the castle windows, just like on that night in France. We could run, and run, and run; we could finally get away from all of this! I wouldn't have to appear on television, and you wouldn't have to go through with your ridiculous wedding to Lady Kenna. You wouldn't have to pretend anymore, if you truly are pretending. We could both marry who we wanted; maybe we could live among the rebels…
Stop! Mary told herself. This was childish; this was ridiculous. They would never get away, and James would never agree to it, anyway.
Trying to keep her expression neutral, she continued to dance with her brother, discreetly looking over James's shoulder every now and again to stare at Sebastian and Francis. As strange as the thought seemed to her, Mary really felt like these two men represented her only two options from this point on.
Yet, as far as her parents were concerned, there was no choice. There had only ever been one option.
The song ended, and Mary and James were interrupted by Narcisse, who cut in to ask Mary to dance.
As Narcisse wrapped an arm around her waist, Mary noticed that Francis was glaring furiously in her and Narcisse's direction. Again, Mary couldn't help wondering what it was about Narcisse that bothered Francis so much.
"How am I doing?" she asked Narcisse, deciding that it would be pointless to ask him about his history with Francis right now.
"They're impressed, so far," Narcisse muttered, almost cryptically, in her ear.
Mary wasn't sure who 'they' were.
"I'll help you get through this," he continued to whisper. "We can help each other."
Mary frowned at him, unsure as to what he meant by the two of them helping each other.
She distracted herself by surveying the room again from over Narcisse's shoulder. She noticed that Bash seemed to be making himself very popular with most of the women in the room; he flirted with them confidently, smirking and winking and running a hand through his hair the whole time, while groups of women fussed over him, all-too-eager to bring him drinks.
Mary looked around for Francis again, and she saw that he had joined Lola for yet another dance. She felt another flicker of irritation, although she reminded herself that it was ridiculous to feel that way. She had told Lola that she could dance with Francis, after all.
Narcisse followed her gaze, and a mischievous grin crept to his face.
"Excuse me," he muttered, before he let go of Mary, bowed to her and hurried away in Francis and Lola's direction before Mary could stop him.
"Can I cut in?" she heard him ask Francis, his tone of voice sounding almost patronising as he stood between Francis and Lola and took hold of Lola's hand before Francis could give him his permission.
Lola seemed oblivious to what was going on, as she just looked happy for the chance to dance with Narcisse, but Mary didn't miss the smug smirk on Narcisse's face as he pulled Lola away from Francis, or the glare that Francis gave Narcisse as he started to dance with Lola.
Mary had the distinct feeling that Francis actually looked like he would have hit Narcisse, if they hadn't been in a public place with cameras filming them both.
Mary felt troubled by the whole scene that was playing out in front of her. She wasn't sure if Francis was glaring at Narcisse because Narcisse had deliberately antagonised him, or because he actually missed dancing with Lola.
She also wasn't sure if Narcisse genuinely had feelings for Lola, or if he was simply using her to get to Francis.
Before she could sink any further into troubled thoughts, Sebastian suddenly appeared in front of Mary, holding out his arms eagerly, waiting for her to take his hand for a dance, and somehow managing to wink at one of the young women who worked on Mary's father's accounting team at the same time.
"Your Grace," he whispered with a smirk, the moment Mary was in his arms, "you look radiant tonight, like the sun."
"Do you flirt with everybody?" Mary asked him with a frown.
"Absolutely everybody," Bash replied with a grin, without a hint of embarrassment.
Mary made a show of rolling her eyes in apparent disapproval, but she couldn't help the grin that crept to her face. Something about Bash intrigued her.
She noticed that Francis had now got into conversation with James, the two of them standing with their hands clasped behind their backs as they conversed.
For as happy as he'd looked when he was talking to Bash, Francis now looked equally happy to have found a fellow heir-to-the-throne to talk to.
You traitor...Mary thought as she caught James's eye, but there was no real malice in her mock glare.
She was sure it would be helpful to James in the long run, to strike up a potentially powerful alliance with another king.
"You are not alone here," Sebastian whispered in her ear as the final notes of the song played.
"Thank you, Sebastian," Mary told him with a nod of her head, sounding very formal but secretly feeling grateful that he was offering her some sort of support. She recognised a rebellious spirit when she saw one. Perhaps they could help each other, in some way.
With a bow, the two of them parted at the end of the dance.
Instantly, there was another young woman waiting to take Mary's place in Bash's arms.
Mary was just about to head over to make polite conversation with Francis and James when Lola suddenly ran over to her with a grin on her face.
"Mary, dance with me!" she insisted, as she grabbed hold of Mary's hand, leading her back towards the middle of the dance floor.
Lola sounded so enthusiastic that Mary didn't have the heart to refuse her.
As the beat of the song picked up, Mary ended up dancing around in circles with Lola, the two of them spinning each other around. She couldn't help laughing along with her new friend, realising that she was actually having fun. For so long, Mary had only really had James for company, so all of this was new to her. She had to admit that she was enjoying it.
She felt almost like an ordinary girl who was attending a party with another female friend, the two of them laughing and giggling without a care in the world.
She felt the eyes of Francis, Bash and Narcisse on her and Lola as they danced, although she couldn't be sure who was looking at whom.
After dancing to a few more songs with Lola, Mary excused herself and stepped out of the ballroom to take a much-needed break.
Defying her father's orders to stay right outside the room, Mary decided to take a stroll through some of the nearby corridors. A part of her was searching for James, as she'd seen him walk out of the ballroom a few minutes ago.
It didn't take long before she spotted him, leaning against a wall in a corridor close by, almost in darkness.
Mary was just about to walk over to him, when she saw that there was somebody else with him, somebody who Mary really didn't want to talk to right now…
"How dare you!"
Mary heard the distinct sound of her mother's voice as she shouted at James. She frowned. It was so unlike her mother, to get angry at James. Usually, he was the 'golden child', playing by all the rules, while Mary broke them.
Feeling intrigued, she hid herself away around the nearest corner, discreetly looking around it every now and again as she listened in on the conversation.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," James replied to their mother.
"Oh, don't play games with me, James! We both know you're too old for that now! You know exactly what I'm talking about!"
"I'm just trying to make things easier for her," James mumbled, sounding a little sheepish.
"No, you're just trying to distract her!" Mary's mother accused him in a furious whisper. "And heaven knows she doesn't need any more distractions right now!"
Mary sighed as she continued to listen in on the conversation, knowing that they could only be talking about her.
"So, what will you do?" James asked, with a hint of defiance in his voice now. "Will you just dismiss Sebastian from the stables?"
"You know I can't do that!" the queen hissed back at him. "The Prime Minister and I have just delivered a speech to the country about equal rights in the workplace! I can't look like a hypocrite in my own home! Not when there are already so many threats from the rebels out on the streets! I trusted you with those interviews, James! And now you've put me in a very awkward position! Again! There's something between them, and you knew it all along! Did you not see the way that he was all over her, at the ball just now?"
"Sebastian is no threat to your little matchmaking scheme," James hissed back at her. "Mary has changed over the past couple of years. You know that she'll play the game just as well as Francis…"
"You'd better hope so," Mary's mother whispered as Mary felt that usual feeling of despair threaten to overtake her. "We have found her the perfect husband; you'd better make sure that nobody gets in the way of that engagement-or heaven help this country!"
With that, she stormed off.
After a few seconds, James followed her.
Mary had to blink back furious tears as she processed her mother's words. Whatever else was going on, her mother was trying to make sure that there was no way out of this royal matchmaking scheme for Mary. She would not allow her an inch of freedom…
Suddenly, Mary heard the distinct sound of footsteps behind her, along with the sound of heavy breathing.
She jumped, startled, and hurriedly turned around to see who had crept up on her.
But when she turned around, she realised that there was nobody there. Double-checking, Mary glanced from left to right, and she took a few steps back around the corner, but still the corridor was empty.
"Hello?" she called out into the darkness, just in case. She was met by only silence.
With her heart still racing, Mary told herself that she'd only imagined the presence of somebody else in the corridor.
It was just like before, when she'd been running back towards the television room and she'd been certain for a moment that she actually saw somebody watching her.
Mary decided that now would probably be a good time to head to bed to try to get some rest. She had had a long day, and she was overtired, and her mind was probably playing tricks on her.
As the grandfather clock standing against the nearest wall struck midnight, Mary suddenly realised that she had not even shared one dance with Francis at the ball.