A Royal Pain in the Ball ✓

Chapter 22 - To Which she Enjoyed.

As she was back on her bed.

The memory of their kiss was a wreck. She hated it. How it appeared from the back of her mind to her central fugitive cell of a brain that she couldn't seem to wash off.

Maybe she shouldn't meet him any more. By wants.

Maybe.

As she tried to wipe off her lips from any mark the other day in front of the mirror, failed miserably, but didn't bother as it was useless and she didn't have a bite mark on her lip or something. Before she tried - she wished one night upon a shooting star that he would never kiss her again. Unfailingly, surely. That would come true.

She sighed.

She wanted to leave. But every so now and then, she couldn't. Not without anything --a carriage, a proper map, and she couldn't possibly leave him alone and besides, she was direction blinded. She would get lost in the forest and live there for months.

As she laid and moved to her back, she had tried that every possible chance to distract her mind off of something. Something fun, time-consuming and was just a fun activity. But nonetheless, once she turned on the tv all it displayed were hotel dramas, romance marathons and back to back dread of heartbreak and drama. And thus she turned off the tv.

She sighed.

For the last time.

That she didn't want to be here. She wanted to come home. To her real home, and not castle. She thought she didn't have to explain this.

She remembered the kiss - an added memory to her blank spaced out mind and to her horror -the steamy moment of the kiss, him that would forever eternally be etched onto her mind. And in no way that she had any plans of forgetting it -- because he caused it in the first place.

And nonetheless, she felt a knock on the door. Disturbing, but a way to let her steam off the busy memories of her life. A lane she would gladly throw in the fire to, but didn't know how.

"Yes?" She answered.

"Mrs. Averithe I am here to deliver you something."

"What." She hollered. Not realizing it herself that she was talking to a door.

"Your dress. For the evening's party." The maid answered. And she was confused, but it was not enough to let her welcomed in.

"Come in." She replied.

The maid twisted the doorknob and pushed it, her wearing a white frill of a bandana and her maid costume, a dress in one hand and she couldn't make it out as it was too far. A detailed color of a dress in her hand, as she propped on one elbow on her bed, observing her.

"Mrs. Averithe, I am here to deliver you your evening's dress party. It has been specifically requested and designed by the master, and he would be glad if you were to wear it during the party's ball."
She smiled.

"Master? What master?" She had hoped it was not Cain who ordered this and designed it by hand in order for her to wear the single piece of dress which she loathed, adding to the memory of him picking out a flimsy, pink and stuck-up dress to her body that she had to put up for a whole week. Or maybe more. But it didn't matter.

As she got down from her bed and approached the maid, the dress clearly sparkling of purple and peach.
"Thank you." She said, "But who's the master, anyway?" She grazed the dress with her fingers and she swore it almost pricked her.

Is he trying to give her poison?

"Oh, the master, you do not know of..?" She giggled, a tiny hand over her mouth.
"The master, Bovlavo, has requested that I would answer any questions asked if it's about him." She said.