Ballroom Antics

Chapter 3

"Ladies, how splendid of you to attend."

...

Both regal and equally infuriating, Anastasia turned around with the most sanguine smile she could muster. No sooner than she had begun turning had her mother whipped around with almost exaggerated excitement.

And there he stood, his demeanor reeked of pride as Anastasia took in his strong presence. He'd grown his hair from last time she'd seen him. His usual short and practical cut had now been swapped for a rich mane of auburn curls hanging artfully around his face that Anastasia just knew he spent hours perfecting in the mirror.

"What an absolute delight it is to finally see you again," Ms. Ryder beamed, "it has been too, too long your highness."

Anastasia could've sworn her mother's eyes twinkled. Actually twinkled.

"Please excuse the formalities, you know me, Nikolas is fine," he charmed with an exaggerated wink at Anastasia.

Reigning in her eye roll Anastasia lowered herself into a deep, mocking curtsey.

Nikolas let out a deep chuckle as her mother choked on her words.

"Anastasia, I dare say what has gotten into you tonight," she cried with hyperbole.

Her melodrama being one of her many traits of disdain for Anastasia.

"Really Ms. Ryder it's completely fine, would you two like anything to drink? A champagne perhaps?" he offered with rehearsed charisma.

He had changed. Not just his hair but also his face. Last time they'd met was no less than two years ago. His face had broadened, as well as his physique. The smart soldiers suit he wore did much to emphasis the sheer breadth of his shoulders. Annoyingly he'd grown taller too. Anastasia had always been the taller and the smarter of the two. Now she was just the latter, she was sure of it. Despite his eased stance, Anastasia could see through his well-presented façade. He was on high alert. She could tell by the calloused hand of his hovering ever so slightly above the sword perched on his hip. So, apparently not just for decoration then. Anastasia made a mental note.

Without bothering to wait for a response, Nikolas swiftly picked up two wide rimmed glasses brimming with bubbling liquid from a passing tray.

Anastasia had never touched the substance; her mother had never allowed her. Though she did understand the effect. More times than she could count had her mother come home stumbling noisily past her bedroom door in the wee hours of the morning. The house maids talked and the gossip she acquired was more than delicious. Being the only child, the house maids were her only real companions. Apart from her dear cousin, Alayn, but they only saw each other few precious times a year. Despite her lack of appreciation for such discrete talk, anything about her mother in that regard was something she was more than happy to contribute to.

With a charming smile Nikolas gracefully offered the glasses to the two women. Before her mother could utter a protest, Anastasia quickly grasped the glass.

For the briefest of moments her fingers lightly brushed against the prince's. His fingers, although gentle, were strong and rough. His skin was warm against her cooler ones. She raised her eyes to his and suddenly the moment snapped. Like a string pulled taught, breaking under the heat. Nikolas confidently pulled his hand away, emotion vacant from his expression, as Anastasia went to take a delicate sip. A breath she didn't realise she'd been holding was exhaled right before the crisp liquid hit her tongue.

Her mother had begun another conversation with The Prince, yet Anastasia hadn't even noticed. The liquor seemed to transiently sharpen her senses. The room appeared to buzz louder, the colours somehow louder. In amongst her silent contemplation she hadn't noticed her name being called.

"Anastasia," her mother repeated sharply, her eyes almost burning holes into Anastasia.

"s-sorry," Anastasia mumbled, blinking, "would you mind repeating what you just said?"

"Nikolas was just commenting on the style of your dress, dearest." She cried with exuberance.

Anastasia's brows furrowed in confusion, such comments from a gentleman of his standing were considered improper to say the least.

As if realizing her confusion, Nikolas interjected, "I merely was stating that I could not recall the last time I'd seen you in such a fine dress..." he trailed off.

As Anastasia took a deep breath, trying to conceal her grin, The Prince quickly added, "- if ever that is."

Anastasia responded, "would you prefer I change," she paused for dramatic effect, "Your Grace."

She relished in the surprised expression painting his face as she took another gulp of the delicious drink. Perhaps the liquor was giving her such confidence? She never spoke like this. In such formal settings at least.

Her mother, again dramatically, gasped with a bejeweled hand flying to her heaving chest, "Anastasia!"

"What mother?" she responded with feigned curiosity, "I was only aiming to answer The Prince's intriguing query." Those last words she spoke with such passionate sarcasm that her mother flinched. Nikolas hid his smirk behind his glass as he made to leave.

"Really Nikolas is fine, Anastasia..." the prince ensured with an air of fascination.

Anastasia only averted her eyes with mock annoyance, she sighed.

"I-Anast-would you please-" her mother fumbled at a loss for words.

"I think I might dance, hmm mother?"

Yes, the alcohol definitely was having an effect on her. Without another word Anastasia placed her now empty glass on the nearest table and made way for the dance-floor. On the way she confidently grasped the hand of a seemingly unoccupied man dressed in a flamboyant vest of fine leathers with gold trimmings. If Anastasia hadn't been so set on arriving at the dance-floor, she might've rolled her eyes.

Anastasia wasn't sure if the music hit a crescendo just as she entered the dance floor or if it was her own imagination. She didn't care, all she wanted to do was spin to the alluring music without another worry plaguing her mind.

The stranger caught the gist and wrapped one hand around her waist, pulling her into a fast-paced waltz. The room became a blur as he spun her around the room, her feet almost floating across the floor. She threw her head back in the ecstasy of the moment, drinking off the feeling of utter joy. As quickly as the dance begun, the music died down and she was brought to an abrupt stop by a strong pair of hands. Giddy on laughter and adrenaline, Anastasia pulled her attention back to the man standing very close to her. Her chest heaved in synchonisation with his. In front of her stood the very man she had wished never to lay her eyes on again. Onyx black curls fell almost to his shoulders, framing his sharp, tanned face. Swiftly Anastasia took a sharp step back as the no longer stranger let out a deep, rumbling laugh. She quickly came to recognise the sheer size of him. 

"Anastasia, I have a feeling your oaths are almost as easy to unravel as that tightly woven corset wrapped around that lovely waist of yours," he spoke, in a deep British accent. His eyes ever so slowly traveling down the length of her body

Anastasia took a deep breath, her eyes still wide with shock.

"Gods above, Tobias?!"