𝐀 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘 - Cinderella AU

XI - as much as yours are

xi.

ARCHIE DIDN'T SHRINK AWAY. The four year old held himself firm when he was addressed, only briefly turning his head to glance at Isadora, a silent permission in his eyes. His blue orbs were slightly anxious as they sparkled into her own, and she couldn't help but squeeze his hand in hers briefly, and offer him a confirming smile.

He took it like an instruction-like a consolation, like a praise-as he turned his eyes towards the foreign king, his little mind not realizing exactly who was standing in front of him, only that he needed to show the respect he had been taught, regardless of anything.

"My name is Archie," The boy spoke then, his thick little voice strong but slightly wavering as he squeezed Isadora's hand once.

Isa exhaled slowly, keeping her head bent and her gaze low in front of her, not daring to meet the king's eyes-not daring to show any disrespect. Her frustration and anger at being summoned didn't matter anymore, it was insignificant when compared to the person she was facing.

"Archie," King Alexander Casimir mused then, a calm intrigue in his tone.

"It appears your mother refuses to give me the pleasure of her eyes," He uttered, his deep baritone etched with a certain hidden amusement.

"Do you suppose she is angry? On account of me interrupting her pre-made plans for this beautiful day?"

Alarmed, Isadora bristled slightly and shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed still low.

"No, your majesty," She ushered the words, cringing inwardly at speaking before being spoken to.

Mon Dieu, why wouldn't he just address her? Put her out of this constant misery of waiting with her thoughts, bound by the propriety of not speaking in front of a royal before being spoken to?

"I dare not harbor any foolish anger towards you," She continued, words like pearls rolling off her tongue. "You assume, for it isn't my place."

"Your place," The foreign king repeated, a slight frustration in his tone and Isadora had to push past the urge to lift her eyes and look at his face-to see if he displayed the frustration.

At the ball last night, she had realized that King Alexander Casimir merely showed his emotions through his eyes-the dips and rises of his face never altered.

"I would rather you did harbor some anger at me, Miss Tremaine," He spoke then, a resolve in his voice. "At least then you would bestow me the rapture of your eyes."

Isa's spell broke then, as she lifted her face gently and her ebony eyes met the foreign king's chocolate brown ones.

His orbs were electrifying in hers as he seemed to tear past all barriers that were held up in the glass of her eyes, trying to get to her bare soul.

She gazed back into his eyes, her intrigue overpowering her. What was it about him that made her react this why? Why did he look and feel like a man that was so otherworldly? What was this feeling in the pit of her stomach and why it only come around when he did?

Slowly, he smiled and Isadora had to swallow to keep the wings beneath her flesh at bay-it didn't work.

Brazenly, his eyes moved from hers, scouring features of her face. She saw him look at the pieces of hair framing her face, her cheekbones, her lips, her neck. She felt herself burn under his calm scrutiny. With his hands pinned at his back, dressed in a formal red suit with his kingdom's badges-gleaming gold, blue and silver-pinned on his chest, and a glinting sleek gold crown rested in his partly messy, partly done hair, he looked intimidating yet exhilarating. He looked like someone some author had written about more than a thousand years ago-someone timeless and so prominent that no wind could erase even their remains.