Pretending to be a Guard

Part 3

Carlos, the Monirius moron, looks our way and takes a step back, probably scared of my terrifying angry face right now. How much I want to get up and show him how it feels, having everything ripped away from you. Having your people be turned into slaves. The idiot deserves worse. Then his face softens. His very punchable, slappable, kickable face softens. 
Softens enough to be my new punching bag. Staring at me, he makes his way to our table, to which my friends wince, sighing sadly, resigned to the fate that a murder may be committed tonight. 
I instantly know I have to stop glowering, because I don't want to make it too obvious that I hate him. My hand itches to reach for my dagger, and throw it at Carlos, but I must resist.
Must resist resisting, that's what.
I smile sweetly. The type of sweet that tastes like heaven at first, brings you there after. Although, honestly? I want him to go to hell. No, don't you dare think 'Dang, that's harsh'. It. Is. Not. Slavery is harsh. And he subjected my kingdom to that. For no reason, by the way. Did I mention that? NO REASON.
"Good evening, ladies," Carlos drops into a deep bow. When was the last time he washed his hair?
You can cook french fries on it.
He may be a prince, but there are three options here. 1, he can't afford to pay shampoo, 2, he can't afford his water bill, or 3, he is just a dirty hog. I think it's the hard one.
"Good evening," Carletta says in a pained voice, clearing her throat nervously. "May I help you?" She squeaks.
"I was wondering who your friends were? I believe we have never met. I am Prince Carlos, Second in line for the Monirius throne."
"Eleanor. That's Patricia, and that's Nella." Eleanor says briskly, nodding stiffly. Since we're besties, obviously, who one hates, we all hate.
"A pleasure," He turns to me, with what I bet he thinks is a charming smile. Pig, honestly. "Would you be so kind as to dance with me?" 
No. No sir, I am not so kind as to dance with you. I grit my teeth, taking a deep breath.
"No, thank you," I struggled to get the thank you out. Less thanking, more spanking, is what is going on in my head. 
My hands wanted to follow my head, very, very much. 
"Are you sure? I insist," Carlos says brightly, yet I can detect the disappointment in his voice.
He should be disappointed. In himself.  
I glance at my friends, who were crossing their fingers, looking away, and shutting their eyes closed. I could see Carletta mouthing "Dear God, please allow no murder to happen tonight," repeatedly.
The prince of Monirius is waiting with his hand outstretched. I guess I better dance with him, so he doesn't get too suspicious of who I am.
"Make it quick then," I sigh, but I don't take his hand. He gets the hint, and drops his hand, yet still, his smile widens, and we walk off to the corner of the dance floor. 
"Do you want to do a more conservative dance? The Nontuchiné?" 
I'm glad this is a dance that requires no twirling. It's quite unpopular, so I'm surprised he knows it. It's common in Silarius- And now I feel like this is a trick question. But maybe it's not, and if he asks how I know it, I will tell him I went to a dance school.
"Sure." I say flatly. We circle each other, both my hands folded neatly in front of me, his hands folded back. The song is perfect for this type of dance, slow and rich with melody. The song starts to speed slightly up, which is good, because the next few moves are slightly faster. Carlos brings his hands in front of him, letting one fall and raising the other in a graceful gesture, while I raise the opposite side, and snap my fingers, him following right after I did so, I twirl slowly, and he drops both arms, laying them in front of me, bowing his head, then I step to my right. He returns his left hand to his side, and steps to his right. It ends with our hands raising, as we begin to circle each other once more, and we snapped our fingers for the last time, folding our hands behind our back and curtsying or bowing. 
It felt nice to have a piece of home again, but it wasn't nice to have to share that moment with the very person who took my home away. Suddenly, we both raise our heads, surprised at the sudden clapping filling the room.