"Your Majesties," called the old Private Secretary.
Her mother gave Reverie the look before they turned to see the man curtsy. Reverie feigned delight. Far across the ballroom, she could see her father eyeing them under furrowed brows.
The Private Secretary looked to her and her mother as he spoke to the throng in the ballroom, "Her Majesty, the Queen and Her Royal Highness, The Crown Princess of Kalopsia." Then he turned to Barron. "His Royal Highness the Crown Prince of Cirille."
"Your Highness," Reverie curtsied.
The bald man opened a docile smile to show bad teeth. He was dressed in white fabrics that accentuated the size of his round belly and prompted out his equally round face and double jaw. His eyes were kind, though.
Cirille was her land's biggest ally. Reverie's hand had been promised to this man from the day she was born. She accepted that. It was an heir's duty to her kingdom.
Her mother carried the conversation, and Reverie smiled and provided brief answers when needed.
"May I have the honour of this dance, Your Highness?" Barron asked, at last, hand reaching out as he bowed his head slightly.
"I would be delighted."
Reverie took his hand and let him lead her to the centre of the ballroom as the music came to an end. Everyone stepped back to open up space for them and settled in the correct positions for the upcoming song.
The chandeliers of the upper-level ballroom lightened up the dark winter evening, shadowing off the desolated atmosphere outside. As the violins started and the rest of the instruments followed, the royals flew on the dancefloor amidst the hush of silk and satin dresses. Rouge, wine, bordeaux-red mingled with translucent silver, golden beige and the black and white of the gentlemen's garments. The ballroom was a dance of sparkly winter flowers on soft fabrics, with rich jewellery crafted as if one longed for Spring and tried to honor wintertime. It was a ball to remember.
This would be remembered as the Blessed Ball, because His Royal Highness, The Crown Prince of Cirille and Her Royal Highness, The Crown Princess of Kalopsia, danced thrice. It was a promise of marriage and abundant times.
Awe, joy and gossip slipped from everyone's lips at the end of the night. But Reverie's mood was sombre, for as the princess laid down in bed, she only gazed at the moon, full and shining through the window above the mist of the waterfall. Reverie wondered if she would ever be able to dance in a ballroom with the prince she imagined in Barron's place.
When her window opened, and Hiraeth climbed the final vines to her room, Reverie knew she would when his hypnotized smile met hers.
Indeed, fate was kind to them, for the morning broke with the distressing news of His Royal Highness, The Crown Prince of Cirille's death.
YOU ARE READING
HOLLOW
Short StorySome feel trapped in life. Reverie was trapped in death. When forever seems like damnation to the dead princess trapped in her castle, a sorrowful morning comes to show her the answer to her prayers. Note: English is not my first language, so excus...
