by Dan Wingreen
Elias's eyes widened as he realized what the Prince was implying. "That can't be true."
The Prince shrugged. "Who am I to say which rumors hold truth? All I can do is irresponsibly relay them and say that I have spoken to her before, and I can attest that she does have a great fondness for horses."
He gently touched Elias's lower back, prodding him to continue on their circuit around the ballroom. Elias went, staring in disgusted fascination until Lady DuPont was no longer visible. He shook his head, disgusted at himself for how eagerly he'd been absorbing the Dark Prince's gossip all night long, but he couldn't deny he was fascinated by it in a way he'd never been before. Part of that had to do with the fact that he was eager to latch onto anything which would dull the unique and interminable boredom of being at a ball. However, he had to admit a larger part of it had to do with the fact it was the Dark Prince who was sharing the rumors.
It was how they'd been spending the majority of the night, so far. After stocking up on the delectable desserts, the Prince had gently led Elias around the ballroom, pointing out nobles he'd interacted with and sharing a—usually disparaging—story or two about them. At first, Elias had only been half paying attention. Gossip had never interested him, and he was much more focused on trying to decide if he liked lemon or vanilla filling in his eclairs, yet after a short time he'd found himself drawn in. It was all the Prince's fault, of course. Elias was unprepared for how good of a storyteller he was; which he really shouldn't have been since he'd had a front row seat to his storytelling ability every night for the past several weeks.
It was different at the ball, though. There was no space between them. No fire or familiar setting to put him at ease. Just the Dark Prince and his light touches and the soft cadence of his low murmurs as he shared outlandish tales of noble debauchery. Just the strange tickling on his neck as the Prince's breath shifted his loose hair when he leaned in close to impart a particularly scandalous rumor. Elias liked it, this feeling of closeness, of the two of them drifting through the ball together, above it all, untouched by the usual dirt which was kicked up by a gathering of nobles even as they swam through it. It was almost fun. He wondered again if it would be like this with anyone other than the Dark Prince.
Somehow he doubted it.
The Dark Prince was unique. An honest liar. A principled villain. The embodiment of everything Elias disdained, and yet the only person he'd ever wanted to be friends with. The only person he'd ever wanted to spend time with since Cornelia died. The only person who could not only convince him to come to a ball, but who actually made him enjoy himself while he was there.
Yes, it was seriously doubtful that anyone else could ever make Elias feel this way. Even if he still wasn't quite sure what this way was yet. He felt like he was close, though. Closer than he'd ever been to understanding the final mystery of the Dark Prince. Closer to figuring out what these feelings were that only seemed to be getting deeper.
So, of course, that was when the last person he wanted any kind of contact with started to approach them.
Elladora Redmond was nothing less than resplendent wrapped in a silvery, silken dress which reflected the illumination of the ballroom in a such a way it looked like she was clad in the very light of the moon. Her hair, pulled and tied into one of those incredibly complicated styles the female nobility seemed to prefer, flowed around her face and over her shoulders like a river of molten gold. She looked the very picture of ballroom elegance. Or she would have, if it wasn't for the way she was barreling through the crowd like a child just been let free from her chores.
"Brothers!" she cried as she approached them, drawing the attention—and disapproving frowns—of more than a few nobles.
Elias tensed as she threw herself at them, but instead of wrapping her thin arms around his neck, she latched herself to the Dark Prince, like a parasite. Said prince scowled fiercely, then glanced towards Elias with something that almost looked like worry in his eyes. He seemed to relax after a moment, and Elias wondered what he'd been expecting that he didn't see.
"Elias!"
He tensed as she made to throw herself at him, but the Dark Prince grabbed her waist and all she managed was a tiny little hop in place. She huffed in frustration.
"Ella," the Prince said, his tone full of warning.
She frowned. "No?"
The Prince shook his head. "No."
"Oh." She deflated.
Elias met the Dark Prince's eyes above her dejected head. "Thank you," he mouthed.
The Dark Prince smiled.
"Well, this won't do at all," Elladora said as she disentangled herself from the Prince. She turned to Elias with bright smile. "Even if I can't greet my little brother with a hug, Father would never forgive me for being rude enough to ignore him completely." With that, she held out her hand. "It is ever so nice so see you again, Elias."
Elias stared at the proffered hand and tried to remember if there had ever been anything he'd been less interested in touching. Aside from human waste, he didn't think so.
"I'm not your brother," he said.
Elladora rolled her eyes. "Of course I know that. But I do wish you were, and it's ever so fun to pretend, don't you think?"
"No."
She giggled. "I knew you would say that." Before Elias could react, she grabbed his wrist with her other hand and slapped his hand into the one she still had stretched out. She pumped, twice, with a surprisingly firm grip before letting go. "We are well met indeed!"
Elias sighed. To think I actually thought I might be having fun…
The sound of a delicate, feminine throat being cleared interrupted his thoughts. The three of them turned as one towards the sound to see a tall, striking woman standing just behind Elladora. Where the annoyance's dress was all about elegance and beauty, the gown this woman wore all but screamed wealth and power. It was made from dark blue, imported silk even finer in quality than Elladora's, with small but expensive jewels sewn into it, adding tasteful, yet utterly unsubtle, accents in places where the eye would be naturally drawn. She had her dark auburn hair drawn up into a style similar to Elladora's, leaving her pale shoulders completely bare. Most likely because she wanted to show off as much of her creamy, flawless skin as she possibly could. Not an altogether unwise strategy, since her skin was by far her best feature. That wasn't to say she was unattractive, because she wasn't, but her face was just that tiniest bit too severe to tip the scales from striking to beautiful, and the cool, disinterested expression did little to help.
"Oh! Selma. I'm so sorry! I'm being ab…ab-is-ma-ly rude, aren't I?" Elladora frowned in distress, then shook her head. "Elias, Your Highness, allow me to present my friend Marchioness Selmanica Nesbeth. Selma, this is Scholar Elias Sutterby and the Dark Prince of Mournhelm." She gestured to each of them as she said their name, then grinned happily. "Perfect," she said, mostly to herself.
Selma barely spared Elias a glance and, after dismissing him so utterly and completely that he would have been impressed if he was the type to be awed by displays of noblesse arrogance, she turned all her attention towards the Dark Prince.
"Charmed," she said in a drawling voice that was surprisingly feminine, for how deep it was. She held out a gloved hand and, after staring at it for a moment too long, the Dark Prince took it, bent slightly at the waist and brought it to his lips, stopping an inch before he would have made contact.
"I'm sure you are," he said, before letting her go and standing up straight.
There was a slight tightening around her eyes, there and gone almost before Elias could see it, and he almost laughed out loud.
I'd bet money she's never been treated even half that rudely before.
It was refreshing to see the Dark Prince's more aggravating traits turned on someone else, for once.
"Selma is the daughter of the Duke of the Carbaronne Mountains, right on the border with Sienne," Elladora said just as the silence was starting to get strained. "She always brings the most heavenly ec
lairs when she visits."
"Oh?" The Prince raised an eyebrow. Elias was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed his interest wasn't genuine, a thought that almost made him smile. "I'm quite fond of eclairs. I've had several excellent ones already tonight. Were any of them yours, perhaps?"
Selma laughed. It wasn't an unpleasant laugh, all things considered, but it was about as genuine as the Prince's interest. "I'm afraid not, Highness. Eclairs from Sienne are very special, not to mention expensive. I only ever bring enough for my family and, maybe, a few close friends." She—subtly, mind but still with obvious intent—looked the Prince up and down. "Perhaps I could be persuaded to share one with His Highness later?"
She phrased it as a question, but she obviously expected him to agree. Elias wondered if he was that obvious when he expected the Prince to act a certain way. It would explain how the Prince was able to thwart his expectations so often and so thoroughly. He found himself holding his breath in anticipation, eager to see this aspect of the Prince from the outside as well. He wasn't disappointed.
"Oh, no need for that," he said airily. "An eclair is an eclair, after all. I was only asking to be polite."
She paused just long enough to blink once, but it was enough for Elias to see that she was thrown.
"I think you'll find that my eclairs are quite special," she said, a small, secretive smile playing about her lips.
Even Elias couldn't miss the double meaning of that.
"No, I doubt that. I've sampled many eclairs in my life and they're all more or less the same," he said, with a small, guileless frown on his face like he couldn't understand why anyone was questioning him about pastries. He's pretending he has no idea what she really means. Elias wondered why. "Although, if I managed to find the perfect eclair, I rather think I would hoard it to myself, as would most ladies of breeding. You are very generous to pass them around to your family and friends."
Elladora covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Selma looked like she had no idea whether she should be offended of not.
Ah. That's why.
This really was quite fascinating.
"Generosity is a prized quality in Ellington," she said after another one of those barely perceptible pauses.
"So is rudeness, apparently." He smiled at her. It was a rather nice smile, no malice or sharpness at all to it, which was probably why Selma still seemed like she had no idea if she was being insulted.
"I don't think I take your meaning, Highness."
He raised both his eyebrows. "Oh? I'm sorry, it's just you haven't acknowledged my friend, Elias, once since you've been introduced. In Mournhelm, that would be considered incredibly rude, and since you seem to be a paragon of Ellingish values, I just naturally assumed rudeness was one of them. Was I mistaken?"
"Yes, you are very much mistaken, Highness. If you'll forgive me saying so."
"Oh? Good! Then I'll wait while you two say hello."
Her expression turned slightly brittle, but she had apparently decided she was going to rope herself a prince tonight because she only hesitated slightly before turning to Elias and looking at him properly for the first time.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Southerby," she said. Her voice was pleasant enough, but the look in her eyes said in no uncertain terms that she expected him to immediately vacate her vicinity and never speak to her again. He had no idea if she got his name wrong on purpose, but he didn't really care either way.
"Charmed," he said, just politely enough not to be considered rude, then gave a short bow when she didn't offer her hand.
He could see out of the corner of his eye that Elladora had moved on to covering her mouth with both hands.
Selma sent him a frosty look which had the Prince narrowing his eyes. Instead of making an issue out of Elias's lack of scurrying away, she decided to ignore him and turned back to the Prince just in time for him to resume his previous expression of barely interested placidity.
"Have I redeemed my country, Highness?" she asked playfully.
"Oh, I think it would take much more to do that," he said with a laugh. Quite obviously fake and nothing like those laughs, but she laughed along with him anyway.
"You have a wonderful laugh, Highness."
You have no idea.
"Hmm, yes, I do, don't I?" he said, sending her a bland, uncomprehending smile.
If she had any less poise, Elias was sure Selma would have let out a frustrated huff. As it was, he was reluctantly impressed with her self-control.
"Would you like to dance, Highness?" she asked, apparently deciding to drop any attempt at subtlety.
Not that Elias could blame her. The Dark Prince was very good at hiding himself, and in Ellington it was easy to fall into the habit of assuming a prince had no idea what one was talking about unless they shouted it in his face.
"I could think of several things that I would like to do." The Prince's voice was low and flirty, and Elias could see that Selma thought she was finally making some headway, when the Prince's smile turned sharp as a sword. "Thankfully, none of them involve touching you."
Selma's eyes widened and, for just a moment, Elias was sure she was going to jerk like she'd been slapped. Her self-control reasserted itself impressively fast, however, and she managed to recover quickly.
"Hmph." She dropped her carefully seductive looks and twisted her face into a sneer of disdain. Elias thought that this, at least, looked natural on her.
"Well, I expect that you're more used to dancing with minotaurs than with ladies in that cesspit you call a kingdom."
"My lady, I assure you, being in the arms of a minotaur would be as the touch of the most powerful Incubi compared to the feel of your aging skin."
This time she did jerk. "How dare you! Do you have any idea who my father is?" She hissed. "One word from me and he can make your life at court a living hell."
The Dark Prince laughed, and this time it was one of those laughs, full of genuine amusement. His face practically glowed with it, and yet it didn't bother Elias that he was laughing because of her. He knew the difference between laughing with someone and laughing at them. "Do you have any idea who my father is? One word from me and he'll raze your kingdom to the ground and sell you to the first bandit camp we come across." He leaned closer to her with a malicious gleam in his previously vacant eyes. "I'm sure they'll take great pleasure in your…eclairs."
Selma's eyes widened and she looked torn between outrage at what he was suggesting and fear that he might actually follow through. Elias watched in rapt fascination. He could almost understand why the Prince took such pleasure in provoking him, if he was half this entertaining.
A giggle tore through the tense atmosphere, breaking the moment. The sounds of the ball around them intruded on their senses, and they all realized at the same time that they weren't alone. Selma glanced around, only relaxing when she saw that no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. Her eyes landed on Elladora, whose face was an alarming shade of red behind her hands. Another giggle slipped between her fingers, and a look of absolute loathing crossed Selma's face before she spun on her heel and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, stalked off and disappeared into the crowd.
The moment she was gone, Elladora burst into peals of girlish giggling.
"Oh, dear," she said, getting herself under control. "I think I've just lost my family an important connection. Father will be ever so disappointed."
"You're just disappointed you won't be getting any more of her eclairs," the Prince said dryly.
She burst into another fit of giggles. "Well, they were rather good."
"Perhaps you should go attempt to repair your connection?" Elias suggested.
"Elias!" She grinned at him. "You do care!"
"I assure you, I do no such thing. I simply think you should take your station more seriously."
"Really?" The Dark Prince looked surprised. "I thought you hated nobility."
"I hate nobles. There is not
hing wrong with nobility as long as the nobles tasked with upholding it don't ignore their responsibilities."
"So dutiful! You remind me of my tutors." Elladora laughed. "I suppose I should be grateful you aren't my actual brother, else you would probably run straight to father and tell him all about this."
"If he was your brother then I would be, too," the Dark Prince said with a smirk. "And I promise you, I would find ways to keep him otherwise occupied."
"You're absolutely awful!" she said, her face lighting up with delight. He tossed her a wink that had Elias scowling slightly. After a moment, she sobered. Well, comparatively at least. "I suppose I should at least try to mend things with Selma. Father will only send me out to do it later if I don't. I expect each of you to save me a dance later on, though!"
"Absolutely not," Elias said.
"I shall save you two, then," the Prince said, grinning at Elias.
The scholar rolled his eyes. "Better you than me," he muttered.
"Good!" Elladora chirped. "Then I shall see you both on the…on the…oh poo, I can't even remember how this one is supposed to go. I shall see you both later!"
"We will be counting the minutes," the Dark Prince said.
Elias stayed silent.
Elladora flashed both another bright smile, then waved and sedately followed the path Selma had taken through the ball.
"You really don't like her at all, do you?"
Elias turned back to him. "Did you think that I did?"
"Beginning and ending a sentence with the same word, Elias? Shame on you." The Prince smirked. Elias didn't even attempt to point out that the Prince had just done the same thing. "But no, I didn't. I'm just surprised by your level of dislike."
"You never seemed to be before."
"Well, I am now." The Prince placed his hand on the small of Elias's back and started to lead him away. "Why do you dislike her so much anyway? I don't think I've ever asked."