ROYAL-TEA [ON HOLD]

3.

I knew he couldn't take his eyes off me.

Prince Anthony stood stoically by a table of little snacks that had cheese and I looked away when our eyes met. His sister, Martha, rushed to me smiling.

"Aaliyah! Sofia! It is so nice to see the two of you here!"

"Whoa, are you okay?"

"I am. Just excited to see you tonight. You look wonderful. Sophia, good job as always... Sophia, why are you blushing? Did you see an Amir somewhere?"

Sofia, once again, vehemently denied staring at a certain someone from Leicesteg. She blushed so hard, I pitied her. I always looked at her as a close friend.

When Sofia first came into my life two years ago, she was this cowering young lady from Turkey who looked battered and worn out. She had been escorted in by the Arabian Royal Guards.

"She is a gift," they claimed. "The Sheikh sent her as a gift!"

My parents were incensed. I knew why. Sofia was so small, fragile and undernourished. How could the Arabian royalty claim she was a gift? To us? Who were they kidding?!

Despite our attempts to investigate, Arabia remained tight-lipped on Sofia. All they said was, "she is a gift, she will bring you good luck, Mashaallah."

My parents, being more humane than the Sheikh, took her in. Within a few days, she could stand on her feet. In a month, her sunken eyes started to improve, and the sores she had were healing quickly. Her hair got lustre so fast, it shone.

She looked more Indian than Arab, but then again... she looked almost like she was Turkish, and then again, she looked almost... like she was African.

Bottom line, Sofia's nationality, and subsequently, her parentage, could not be placed. We decided to make her family, and absorbed her. She became my lady-in-waiting.

I had bigger plans for her though.

As we stood there, the three of us chatting about this and that, I couldn't help smiling at Sofia's brave and beautiful face. She looked so lovely, all the men in the room looked anxious enough to want to lay hands on her.

"Sofia, Kassim is coming," Martha teased.

"No he isn't," she joked, smiling at me happily. "He could never..."

"May I have this dance?" A voice we all recognized asked. Sofia's eyes widened. It was Prince Kassim after all.

"You better go Sofia," Martha whispered. She nodded and left to join him on the dancefloor. They looked so good together.

"Relationship goals," I said, and Martha and I simultaneously sighed.

*&*&*&*&

My mother asked me to 'be nice with Anthony or else,' and here I was, staring at him in anger.

Of course he had done something stupid. Normally, teasing worked, but today, he felt me up. He grabbed my hand as I passed by, slipped his other one around my waist, and felt me up.

Me being me, lashed out violently. I slapped him hard. He defended himself to both my parents, and his, claiming that he thought he saw a spider on me.

"Stop hitting him all the time. Be a girl for once and stop bloody driving me insane, yeah? Now, go apologize to that handsome young man!"

"But mum..."

"But nothing! Go, now!"

Here I was, enduring a quiet evening with him by my side. I was reining in my emotions and so far, I hadn't hit him again. Which meant I was pretty much on my way to controlling my composure.

"Say something."

I stared at him incredulously. "You SUCK!"

"Princess Aaliyah, you should watch your tongue. Royalty does not use terms like that."

"Well," I said, taking a deep breath to calm me down, "Royalty does not lie, manipulate and treat ladies of social high standing like whores."

His jaw dropped open, as I stared at him with a huge smile. Finally, he knew exactly how it felt not to have a comeback. I knew my mum was watching us from somewhere. "There, there," I said dottingly, "you shouldn't let your mouth catch flies. It makes your British charm almost non-existent." I pushed his slack jaw back, patted his cheeks for good measure, and walked away.

For the rest of the evening, he spent his time watching me from afar. I felt happy, relieved, and even possibly rejuvenated. I had learnt a new way to fight him. Without blood and cuts and black eyes.

A witty princess always wins her battles without having to resort to caveman tactics.

Only then did I realize that this, all along, had been Sofia's way of life. She never used force, but her wit was what got her out of trouble all the time. Thus noted, I decided I'd make her my best friend.

Prince Anthony would never know what hit him.