A Glimpse Into My Mind

The Price of Love

Dancing with a woman who's face he does not know, the prince's eyes scan the rest of the ballroom. Guests dance as the symphony, coming from the musicians seated in the corner, flows through the room. The woman in front of him is beautiful, her brown eyes full of life, her dark, coiled hair done up with elegance, but she is not her. And so his eyes keep looking.

Around the ballroom, guests stand, watching the dances, the king sitting on his throne, watching the prince. The prince will find a wife tonight, but she will be a stranger. Every woman will be a stranger after her.

As the dance comes to an end, his eyes finally land on the most beautiful face in the room, standing by a door, her head down.

"Excuse me," he mutters to the girl, leaving her on the dance floor as the music ends. She blinks, confused, before turning to find another dance partner.

The prince walks through the room, toward the door, toward the girl. A hand grabs onto his arm, pulling him around. His sister's face is covered in worry and anger.

"Ezra, what are you doing," she whispers a demand rather than a question, her eyes moving from him to the girl by the door, who's eyes stay on the ground.

"I need to use the bathroom," Ezra tells his sister with a smile. "I won't be long now; tell father if you must." His sister holds his gaze, but sighs.

"Be careful, brother."

The music resumes when he reaches the door, clearing his throat. She looks up at him, her eyes lightening. Ezra flicks his gaze to the door and she opens it. "In three minutes," he whispers as he slips through. "Meet me in the second room down the hall." She nods, concealing her smile.

As the door closes behind the prince, the girl stands there, pressing her shaking hands to the sides of her dress, a dull color, a maid's dress. As the minutes pass, she adjusts her hair, her clothes, and while the rest of the ball pays but a sliver of attention to the maids standing in the corners, she slips out the door, following the prince's instructions.

The music from the ballroom follows her as she enters the dark room, finding the prince lighting candles to scare away the shadows. She smiles as she meets his eyes.

"You look beautiful, Amalie," he whispers, crossing the room to take her hands in his. Amalie blushes, looking down. Ezra's fingers move to her chin, sending shocks between them both at the contact, and lifts her gaze to his once more. "Dance with me," he whispers. She can only nod, stepping closer to him.

Ezra's arms loop around her waist, bringing her impossibly close, so their bodies are flush against one another. Amalie's fingers play with his hair, stroking the back of his neck, as she rests her head on his chest. Ezra spins her around, her dress sweeping the room, earning a small giggle, before her head returns to his chest. She breaths in the scent of him; dark oak and air and polish, the smell of the castle.

Amalie smiles, content, as Ezra presses a kiss to her head. She is oblivious to everything around her.

Before he can think twice, second guess himself, allow his fear and regret to creep in, Ezra slides a knife from his pocket, driving it into Amalie's abdomen.

With a jolt of pain, she takes in a sharp breath, looking down to the knife in her stomach, the blood soaking her dress, looking back to the prince. Tears spill from Ezra's eyes as he looks at her wide ones.

But Amalie understands.

Slumping against him, Ezra lowers her to the ground, the knife clattering to the floor, her head lying in his lap as she look up at him. He watches as tears prick her eyes, too.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice that of a broken man. She shakes her head, smiling.

"There is no other place I'd rather be," she whispers, gasping for breath. "Than spending my last moments in your arms."

"You are the only one I'll ever love," he tells her, stroking her face. She smiles, nodding.

"I forgive you," she whispers with her final breath. Going limp in Ezra's arms. He hovers over Amalie, sobbing over the woman he loves, gone by his hands.

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