Bow to the King

Chapter Eleven

Tristan watched the hurried, retreating form of Rose as she ran from him. Immediately he slapped his hand to his forehead. His heart pounded as guilt and anger raced through his blood. He should not have held her so long and kissed her hand. He certainly should never have asked her for that final dance. The angry pulsing of his heart gradually faded into a dull ache as he stood alone. She was right to turn away from him, but the pain of rejection still made itself known.

With an angry grunt, Tristan left his position amongst the town dancers. What had come over him? They had spent a pleasant evening together and he had kept his mind throughout the night. But once the walzer began and she danced so close to him, Tristan had found it impossible to let her go. She had looked so beautiful and vulnerable, she had enraptured him, entranced him. With another painful ache in his chest, Tristan realized he was losing his heart to the servant girl. If only she were nobility. He would have swept Rose away and begged to pay court to her the moment he had laid eyes on the girl.

Tristan inhaled sharply. What would he do? He could not court the girl, no matter how his heart seemed to call for her. It would be best to take hold of his heart before he lost it completely to her. He should let her go, refuse to ever speak with her again. The weight of the world seemed to crush his shoulders as he thought of never speaking to Rose again. He could not bear it. I can't stay away from her, he realized in shock. How had this happened? There was a time where he would never have looked at a servant as anything other than a lowly peasant, much less a beggar. He pondered the situation for a moment and thought of Rose. In truth, he was not so surprised. He had not been able to separate his thoughts from her since the moment they had met. Rose was not just a servant girl, and she would never be just that to him. What am I to do?

He would talk with her again, he knew that much - that was, if he had not permanently scared her away with his actions that night. But then what? He groaned. This was an impossible situation; he could not be with her but he could not stay away from her. It was easy to say he could keep his heart in check when away from her, but he knew the moment he was in her presence he would lose control. He was not himself when he was with Rose, yet he was more himself than ever when he was with her. Tristan frowned deeply in confusion.

With a start, Tristan realised he had walked the entire way back to the castle. He had been so deep in thought that he had not paid attention to how far he was walking. He entered the castle and strode through the halls, heading towards his chambers. He was in no mood to talk to anyone and paid no attention to the people around him.

The sound of a chiming laugh had him halting in his steps. No, no, not tonight, please not tonight. Desperately he looked around for a place to hide. There was nowhere, he was in an open hall and he doubted hiding behind the curtains would be inconspicuous. Resigned, he prepared himself for his fate.

Suzanna entered the hallway and grinned when she saw him. Tristan loved his sister dearly, but at this moment he did not feel like speaking with anyone - and she was the most talkative of them all.

"Brother!" Suzanna cried, walking up to him. Tristan smiled, more of a grimace, and they began walking down the hall together. He hoped to reach his chambers as soon as he could. "That's a funny hat. I like your disguise, though you still look like the Prince to me. I suppose that is because you are my brother and I know you. How was the festival? Crowded, I imagine. Did you dance with anyone? I would wager any maiden would have been thrilled to be chosen by you - Prince or not. You are very handsome, though perhaps I should not say so because you really do not need any more self-confidence. Did people recognize you? My, imagine what chaos would have developed if people had realized the presence of royalty was in their midst," Suzanna prattled, giggling every now and then.