A Dance With The Con (Short Story)

A Dance With The Con

"Isn't he handsome?"

"A handsome example of depravity and deceit? Indeed," Isabelle was quick to retort.

"Come now, Izzy. I overheard some rumours that he intends to ask you to a dance?" Isabelle's mother chided. "Surely you understand the significance of this gesture as paying respect to our recent pact with his kingdom?"

Isabelle sighed. She hated balls for so many reasons. For one, there were so many dancing couples and not enough curtains to hide behind, especially if you were a princess. Further, they were so political that you could never have fun or dance with anyone you wanted to, especially if you were a princess. Isabelle was a princess.

And even though this ball was in honour of her birthday, her mother had grabbed the opportunity to better their political relations in excuse for this party.

"It doesn't matter. I believe they intend to backstab us, like they did in the past agreement by selling state secrets to their real allies, which we are not. A piece of paper with thumbprints does not change that," Izzy stated matter-of-factly.

Her mother, the Queen, hushed her with animatedly but gracefully moving hands, "Careful or someone might overhear!" She nudged Izzy towards the centre of the ballroom. "I want you to dance with him, if he is so polite to ask you."

Izzy rolled her eyes and stood in the middle of the large hall, the chandelier raining down soft yellow light on her figure, accentuating the wine red ball gown hugging her (a bit too tightly, another downside of being a princess).

And here he comes, ever the gentleman.

"Would you do me the honour, Princess?" He said, extending his hand gracefully.

"Only because I have to, Your Highness." Isabella greeted him with a strained smile and a conventional bow.

"My my, ever so enchanting, hmm?"

Izzy took his hand and he whisked her into a waltz. She had to agree, however reluctantly, that he did know his waltz, whatever else may be his faults.

"So... what are you conspiring today in that wicked head of yours? Another plan to sabotage the ball like you did at the Forsters'?" Izzy looked deep into his eyes, searching for the truth. When she could not find it, she sighed in disappointment.

He smirked. "No, Your Highness. I'm hurt that you think so lowly of me. Would you believe me if I said that I only attended this ball to enjoy the pleasure of everyone's company?"

"You? Enjoy these people's company?" Izzy jerked her head motioning towards the other dancing couples. "Surely you can not expect me to be so naive as to believe that?"

"You are so many things, my princess, but naive you are not. And you are right, I cannot stand these snobby people any more than I can stand boring balls. I merely came here to seek your company. Happy birthday by the way," He smiled winningly.

"Like I said, I'm not naive. So I propose–"

"Propose? So soon?" He laughed.

Izzy glared so hard at him that if he was made of glass, he would have shattered at her feet. "I propose you abandon any plans you have of winning my good favour, for you already lost it about a decade and a half ago."

A strange look flitted across his eyes. Sadness? But it can not be. It would be at odds with everything she had learnt about him, everything she had known him to do. For a moment, just a moment, she began to doubt everything she knew. And for just an infinitesimal moment, she felt compassion towards him. Maybe he was just as bored with his position in society as she was? But then he put on his signature smirk, and the moment slipped away.

"Well, I am hoping to regain it and will keep trying to do so, and if only you would step down from your high horse for a while then you would see it," he stated, a bit heatedly.

"Why do you care to be in my good opinion after all that you have done to my kingdom, to my people–"

"I had no choice, surely you must know– Isabelle– Your Highness, that I had no choice but to follow my mother's orders. She is my Queen after all. She holds all the reigns, much like in your–"

"In my situation," she sighed. "I get it. And you can call me Isabelle, I do not mind. In fact I would very much like respite from the realization of my place in society."

"And you can call me Thomas, if you so please, to return the politeness. I am sorry for any pain that I have caused you, believe me it was done without any choice of my own," he laughed bitterly.

She smiled. "I would never have imagined in my wildest dreams that this night would transpire like it has. If you had told me so during our last meeting, I would have pushed you down the marble stairs like I have always wanted to."

He spluttered. "That's all you have to say, after I so passionately apologised to you, which I may interject, is something that I never do? How long have you been dreaming my demise, you wicked creature?"

"Ever since your grand procession blocked all overseas routes to my kingdom and I couldn't receive my shipment of Russian dolls on my sixth birthday."

"Good Lord, woman. I never knew you could hold a grudge for so long, and over such a vain and juvenile matter to boast," he said incredulously.

"I was then a child, if I might remind you. Plus, I had been begging Papa for those dolls for months. And I didn't even get them on my birthday, no thanks to you. And about holding the grudge for so long, your charming deeds throughout the years have always been quite a constant source of motivation." Izzy smiled dazzlingly, like the princess she was. Oh, what fun she was having, teasing him! She even forgot for a moment who he was and where they were.

"Remind me to never get in your bad graces again then, my lady."

"What makes you so sure that you aren't still in my bad graces?" It was her turn to smirk.

"You are teasing me, are you not, pretty torturer? All that I ask of you is to give me another chance. I don't ask to be magically put in your good graces, but I do want to be in neutral ground. Let my actions from hereon be the judge for whether I proceed or recede in your eyes."

The waltz had come to an end, but they were far too preoccupied by their conversation, so they kept standing with their hands encircling each other.

"Alright then," she stepped in a little closer to him. He too leaned in. "I will give you another chance. On one condition though–"

"I am willing to do anything," he whispered quickly, with hope evident in his eyes. He smelled delightfully of expensive perfume– spices and musk.

"You must ask me to another dance," she said slowly, enunciating each syllable.

He smirked. "Like I said, anything for you, Princess," and in one graceful movement, he led her to another dance as the instruments began building again.

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