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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Romance/Love · #275061
This's been viewed more than all my others put together. Guess I should write more!
Princess Injra yanked on a blonde curl. “Eh? Are you listening, Livi?”

Princess Livinia sighed. “Yes, Injra, I’m listening.”

Across the room, Princess Valory fussed with one of the bows on her dress. “Honestly, Livi, what do you see in that boy?”

“Nothing!” Livi protested. “He’s just a friend.” She closed her eyes against Injra’s tugging.

“Why can’t you just wait to be carried off like any other decent princess?”

“Yes,” Princess Ashia chimed in from her place in front of the grand mirror. “My sister’s sixteenth ball, she was carried off by a handsome man dressed all in black. It was the same old thing, really, but he did it with such style! When she came back she had all the men of the kingdom vying for her hand.”

“Why can’t I just fall in love?” Livinia sighed.

“It’s all right to be nervous,” said Princess Timar, braiding her younger sister Para’s fine, black hair. “I was nervous. From what my mother says, being abducted is the most fun you’ll have.” She sighed. “I know I’m not looking forward to marriage.” She grinned mischievously, “But being carried off certainly was fun.”

“Ooh, do tell us again, Timar,” little Para pleaded.

“Yes, do tell us,” begged Ashia, setting down her brush in her eagerness.

“I think we’ve heard it enough,” Livinia growled.

“Livi’s right, Para,” Timar said, fastening the large bow on the end of her little sister’s hair. “It’s her day, you know.”

“Aww! But you’ll tell me later, won’t you, Timar?”

“Of course. Now come on, into your dress.”

“I can’t believe you ran off again!” Injra hissed in Livinia’s ear.

“I wasn’t running away!” she hissed back. “Ouch! Quit pulling my hair!”

“You really shouldn’t fuss so much,” said Valory, giving Livinia a scathing frown. “It’s not as if she’ll appreciate how well she’ll look.”

Livinia rolled her eyes. “Oh shut up, Valory! For your information, I wasn’t running away! We got lost, okay? We just got lost!”

“Right,” said Valory, crossing her arms and looking down on the seated princess. “And what else would you be doing in the company of a stable boy?”

“Deren’s NOT a stable boy! He’s a duke. Well,” she corrected herself, “son of a duke, but what’s wrong with my liking a duke, anyway?”

Valory sniffed haughtily. “A duke’s not fit companionship for a princess of the Realm. Especially not the princess of the First Kingdom. You should be ashamed of yourself, running about as you have. And today your birthday!”

Livinia scowled. “We’re just friends, Valory. He’s not the scoundrel everyone says he is.”

Timar looked up, but her calculating gaze went unnoticed.

“Oh leave her alone, Valory,” Injra said, coming to her friend’s aid. “She’s nervous as it is. And don’t tell me you won’t be nervous when it’s your day, Valory.”

“Hmphf. Well I certainly would have the good sense to act like it Was My Day.”

“Ouch!”

“Oh! Sorry, Livi!”

Livinia sighed. “What’s wrong with just falling in love?” she moaned.

“That kind of stuff only happens in fairy tales,” Ashia chided, waggling her finger. “That’s baby stuff.”

“Just think of all the handsome young men,” whispered Injra, sighing.

“Yeah,” added Valory, “all the young men who will only be interested in one thing.”

“What’s that?” asked Para.

“Shhh!”

But Timar’s hushing failed to distract Valory. “Why, Para,” she crooned, smiling wickedly, “all those men will be waiting to see who will be the lucky one to carry off the First Princess, that’s all.”

“Oh! Will that be nice, Valory? Ow! Why’d you pinch me, Timar?”

Valory straightened, brushing imaginary flecks of lint from her beautiful, rosy pink gown. “Fun?” she echoed. “Of course it’ll be fun, Para. Don’t you remember, girls, at Bureina’s Sixteenth Ball? The men, all dressed in those fabulous costumes, remember she wanted a costume ball? And after her last dance, the way the hall doors swung open and the wind blew out all the candles. The bandits were dressed all in black and they grabbed Bureina, and all the while she was screaming? And her mother was crying and all the young men were laughing? I know you were there with me on the stairs, Livi, Injra, I know we saw it all. And she never did come back, did she? All a daring plan, wasn’t it? Storm the castle, steal the princess, only it wasn’t the kidnapping party, was it? And they starved to death in the mountains, didn’t they? And Queen Savana died of shame, didn’t she? All the screaming and crying, it was worth it, wasn’t it?”

“Stop it!” Timar snapped, grabbing Valory by the arm. “It doesn’t have to be that way! It’s a magical, wonderful occasion, the happiest of your life. It’s not scary at all, and you should be ashamed of yourself! Act like the Second Princess you are, Valory! Your time will come! Your birthday’s in another month, so stop being so sour on such an exciting day!”

“Ouch!”

Three irritated princesses turned as one. “Will you stop pulling her hair, Injra?”

They were distracted by a knock on the door.

“Enter,” Timar called.

Livinia’s tall, athletic tutor bowed his way into the room. “Ladies,” his solemn voice intoned, “the court awaits.”

Injra’s nervous hands snagged one last curl as she hugged her friend. Timar waited for her, hustling all of the younger princesses from the room. “Good luck,” she whispered.

Ezkin smiled gently at the white-faced princess. He bowed and offered his arm. “My lady, you have never looked lovelier tonight.”

Shaking with fear, Livinia latched onto his arm. Her smile was more of a grimace.

“Come, your father waits to escort you to the hall.”

As he reached for the door handle, Livinia set her feet into the floor. “I can’t!” she cried. “I can’t do it, Ezkin! I’m scared!”

Ezkin’s kind face relaxed in a smile. Gently, he wiped away her tears with his small kerchief. “There, now, Princess. I’ll be with you. Have no fear. You are almost a woman now. You should fear no one, least of all any man, and certainly not me, hmm? There, now, that’s better. Remember, I’ll always be right beside you. It’s to be a late night, so let us be going, my Lady.”

Livinia held tight to his arm, hugging his familiar security close. “Don’t leave me, Ezkin, don’t leave me!”

“Remember what I told you to remind yourself of?”

“I’m the First Princess of the Realm,” said Livinia obediently, her lips trembling with the words. “I’m the First Princess,” she repeated.

“There, do you feel better?”

“No!” she wailed. “Don’t make me go, Ezkin! Please! Don’t make me go!”

For a brief moment, the kindly face of a teacher turned into the tortured face of a much younger man. Then he forced himself to breathe, speaking sternly. “This is no time to be childish, Princess. You are the First Princess and you have certain obligations. You will fulfill your duties as decreed by custom and tradition. It is only one day,” he added in a far gentler tone.

Livinia bit her trembling lip, allowing herself one last, good sob. Slowly, finger-by-finger, she forced herself to release Ezkin’s arm. Tossing her head and taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. “You are right, as always, Teacher. Shall we go?”

Ezkin bowed, opening the door for her to pass through. They proceeded in silence to the top of the main stair where King Rappude waited. Livinia stepped away from Ezkin to grasp her father’s arm. She paused, looking back.

“I’ll be right beside you,” Ezkin assured her, bowing low.

Rappude smiled happily at his daughter. “Are you ready?”

Inwardly shaking and sweating despite the coolness of the evening, Livinia nevertheless managed to nod, giving her father a shadow of her normal mischievous grin. “Of course, Father. I’m ready.” Looking back at Ezkin one more time, Livinia took courage from his reassuring smile.

The view from the top of the stair was astounding. As soon as the curtain drew back, the music halted with a trumpet to announce their presence. The ballroom was filled with people and the main rooms were packed to overflowing with eager guests. Livinia faltered for a second on the stairs, glancing back once more at Ezkin.

“Go on,” he whispered, waving her forward.

Nodding slightly, Livinia smiled up at King Rappude. “They’re waiting, Father.”

“Indeed they are,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with pride and happiness.

Calmly, serenely, gracefully, they stepped down the stairs to the applause of all present. The guests stepped back to form a narrow corridor to the dance floor. With a soft note from the flute, the musicians began to play a slow waltz.

Livinia spun around the dance floor, concentrating on keeping her footing. She didn’t let her gaze rest on any of the men crowding the floor, for fear her nausea would overcome her. At the end of the dance, others claimed her for a set and she obliged them, her mind curiously detached from her surroundings. And as she danced, a small, nagging thought crept into the back of her mind. Where was Ezkin? Where was he? Occasionally she glimpsed his deep, emerald green tunic, but then he would be gone again, swallowed up in the crowd. As the night and the dancing wore on, Livinia found herself searching for her old friend and mentor more and more. She plastered a smile on her face, nodding when her partners spoke, but hearing nothing. She twirled and spun around the floor, connected only by the touch of her partner’s hand in hers.

Then suddenly, a new hand caught hers. A jolt of feeling traveled up her arm and through her entire body quicker than a heartbeat. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart began to pound for another reason than all the dancing. The hand was not so much bigger than hers and it held her delicately, yet firmly, and easily. She dragged her gaze upwards, noting the handsome, dark green-trimmed tunic with the silvery neck-tie. His shoulders were broad and possessed great strength. His long, wavy black hair was held with another ribbon at the base of his neck, outlining his handsome face and his strong, if stubborn chin. His black eyes held hers and Livinia could not look away.

She was aware that they danced, but to her it was as if they hardly moved at all. She seemed to be floating, as if in a dream. The other dancers faded away until she was alone, the music receding into the background. For the first time that evening, caught up in that gaze, Livinia smiled. The smile reached back into the far corners of her heart, reflecting her inner joy in her eyes.

Her partner drew in a deep breath that was totally lost on the young woman. He stared down at her, astounded at the sudden change. A moment ago, just as he’d grasped her hand from out of her fumbling previous partner’s hand, she’d been just another scared, young woman. Now, someone else seemed to have taken her place. That smile transformed her entire face and through it, her entire body. The music and wonder of her laughter stunned all those around them so that they paused in their dancing. And suddenly, he only wanted to get away. What was he doing? He shouldn’t even be there. Hastily, he tried to disengage himself, to duck out of the scandalized eyes of the crowd. His feet turned clumsy beneath him, and he tripped, just as the music came to a wrenching end.

Livinia gasped as her partner slipped from her hand. She looked up towards the music, an irritated scowl marring her flushed face. But the attention of the crowd was not for her and she dismissed them, turning to help up the man who’d been dancing with her. But he wasn’t there! Frantic, she spun in a quick circle, but she was alone, isolated within a crowd that – No! What was going on?

In the entrance hall, the clock began to toll midnight. Around her, the crowd began to pull away. She looked up, tilting her chin defiantly, hands on her hips, and she waited.

The man in white stood silhouetted by the deep red of the curtains. His hand twitched, drawing her gaze instantly to the naked blade he carried. He nodded to her.

“NO!” Livinia gasped, her face draining of color. Bereft of the strength or the courage to move, to speak, or even to do more than stare, she trembled, biting her lip as he sauntered closer.

He stopped about three paces away. He bowed. “Princess.”

The word broke Livinia’s trance. She took an involuntary step backward, her eyes frantically searching the crowd. Ezkin. Where was Ezkin? Ezkin!

The stranger’s hand on her shoulder spun Livinia around, but she jerked away from his grasp, her wide, frightened eyes looking for escape, of any kind. Hastily, she backed away, bouncing into the crowd who laughingly pushed her back.

“We’ll get her for you,” and “Need some help there?” and other offers and laughter rose up around Livinia like a scene out of a nightmare. Even her father and mother, there on the dais, were smiling and laughing. Ezkin. Where was Ezkin?

Two more men in white appeared from the crowd, grabbing the reluctant princess by her elbows and lifting her from the floor. Effortlessly, they began to carry her away.

“Ezkin!”

Her cry halted his progress like a knife to his heart. Without hesitation, without consciously making the decision, he turned and began to fight his way back through the crowd. They didn’t want to let him through, laughing and joking amongst themselves as the princess began to cry.

“She’s not fighting,” they said. “Why doesn’t she scream?” “She’s not giving them any trouble, is she?” “This isn’t half as exciting as I’d thought it’s be.”

He made it to the edge of the crowd, beginning to run. The parade was reaching its end, now, in the main hall. From the windows he could see one of the king’s carriages pulled up and waiting. Frantic, he slid to a stop before the main doors.

The man in white scowled. “Out of my way!”

Ezkin’s eyes met Princess Livinia’s terrified ones and he straightened his back, took deep breaths to control his panting, and lifted his chin to match the kidnapper’s posture.

“Leave the girl and you may depart unscathed.”

The crowd in the hall began to murmur excitedly. “This has never happened before!” “Who is he?” “Did they plan this?” “No, look at the king, see how angry he is?” “Who is he?” “What does he think he’s doing?” “Look, the guards! They’re going to stop this.”

The man in white lifted his blade to Ezkin’s throat. “I think not. How dare you challenge me?”

“I love her.”

The words slipped out before Ezkin could stop them. He swallowed hard, his face burning red with shame and embarrassment.

The man in white’s face purpled in rage and he struck before the stunned crowd could react.

“No!” With strength drawn from panic-stricken fear, Livinia pulled herself free from her captors, running to Ezkin’s side. She cupped his sweet face in her hands. One finger caught in a wispy, black curl and she stared for a moment. “Ezkin,” she whispered, “Ezkin!” But his eyes remained closed.

The hard knot of fear and uncertainty disappeared in a wave of rage. Jumping to her feet, Livinia lunged for one of the blades drawn by the castle guard. With the weapon in her hand, she faced her would-be captors.

“You want me,” she snarled, “you’ll have to come get me.”

The crowd gave a collective gasp and the man in white’s two accomplices hastily vanished. It was his turn to take an involuntary step backward.

Livinia’s eyes blazed in fury. “Well?” she demanded. “Care to try? Or are you scared?”

“This is not how a princess should be,” the man in white muttered.

The princess of the First Kingdom of Sevoi drew herself together. “A princess,” she recited, “is the life-blood of her people. A princess is as sweet as a lamb and as fierce as a tiger. A princess should hold the lives of her people above her own. A princess is the dawn and the twilight; the sun and the moon. A princess embodies love, honor, and respect, and seeks to find the same in all people. A princess will serve faithfully to the end of her days and will always uphold justice in all things. A princess is loyal and strong, with wisdom and trust, a gentle hand and a ready smile. That is all a princess should be.”

Her words rang out in the now silent hall. The man in white stared at her awhile, at the blade she held in sure hands and the prone man she protected. A small, odd sort of smile, half-wistful and half-respectful, found its way to his face. With a wide sweep of his hands, he bowed low, so that one knee almost touched the ground.

“My Lady,” he declared, “I am honored.”

Livinia nodded. “Rise, sir, and take your leave with my blessing.”

He stood, bowing slightly and sheathing his blade. In a moment he was gone. Castle guards began ushering the crowd back to the main rooms. They went in amazed acquiescence, unresisting as the music began once more. Livinia watched them go, feeling strangely content.

“You learned your lessons well, didn’t you?”

“Oh!” She spun around.

His head in his hand, cushioned against the cold marble floor, Ezkin grinned at her. His blacker than black eyes twinkled with merriment, giving him the appearance of far fewer years.

Livinia sank to the floor beside him, fingering the edge of his tunic. Shyly she raised her eyes to meet his. And she just had to ask: “Who are you?”

His eyes flickered with a shadow of something hidden. “Have you no other words for me?”

Livinia’s gaze dropped to her hands on her lap. “I, I don’t know.”

“Oh, my Lady,” he sighed, his voice full of longing, “I am glad.”

Startled, she looked up. “Why?”

He smiled again. One hand reached up to caress her face. “I love you, Princess. I have since the very first moment I saw you. Long have I been your father’s closest friend and advisor. I taught you, rocked you in your cradle, walked with your father all the night long during your birth, and stood beside him at his wedding. Tonight, all my wishes have come true, except for one.”

Livinia blushed. “What’s that?”

Grunting a little from the effort, Ezkin pulled himself to a sitting position. He took Livinia in his arms. “Do you trust me?” he whispered in her ear.

She trembled from head to foot, unable to decide whether to be nervous or excited. “Yes!” she breathed, her heart racing and her body tingling from the close contact. Yet she did not draw back, did not retreat. Her eyes opened a little wider, her lips parting slightly.

The kiss was the dance and her defiant step all rolled up in one. Livinia melted into Ezkin’s embrace, every movement of his hands like fire along her skin. Opening her eyes, she once again faced the black-eyed man she’d danced with. “I know you!” she whispered.

He laughed, a delighted peal of joy. “I should hope so, my Lady! I should dearly hope so!”
© Copyright 2001 KC under the midnight sun (goonie at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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