Endless

The Prince | Aleria

"Alya?" Nick asked, guiding me to a chair.

I drooped down, gripping his arms for stability. "I know you. Knew... Long ago."

"Yes," he said. "What did you remember?"

I met his gaze. His eyes were so blue. "London. A ball."

A sad smile played on his lips. "You were a debutante."

Another year, another ball. Another dress too, ironically white to match Society's expectations of me as a young, eligible, and single woman. I hid amongst a giggling bunch of vapid debutantes, hoping to avoid attention. Despite being courted out of my mind last time, I'd managed to stay firm, but not nearly enough to deter the most determined of my beaus. No. I was simply seen as more challenging. By extension: something the spoilt boys had to have.

I blew out a sigh and opened my ostrich feather fan in an attempt to hide my identity a little longer. No one looked my way. At least the vast ballroom filled with partygoers helped to obscure my location, but it was so damnably bright in here that it would only be a matter of time before someone spotted me. Still, I relaxed slightly. It wouldn't do to slip out just yet. Only ninnies with trysts did that.

Instead I settled in for the wait, either for a chance to escape, or to be caught up in the dancing. I let my thoughts wander while I idly waved the fan. Where was Luc now? After that night, he'd vanished again and still hadn't returned. I'd assumed I'd hear of him making a name for himself as a soldier, but nothing reached my ears.

I slapped the fan closed with a hiss of annoyance. Luc had a choice and a life of his own. I had no business worrying about him. Not after I'd made clear that there wasn't a future for us together. I focused on the gossip flowing about me, trying to pretend I shared their short and often silly little lives.

"Well, he'll just have to accept he's not the most attractive prospect this year," one girl said and giggled. "I much prefer the adventure of a Russian prince."

My stomach took a steep dive and I fanned myself again, this time to pretend my creeping blush was from the ballroom's stuffy heat as opposed to the memory of leaving one Russian prince naked and shackled to his bedpost so he couldn't follow my escape to a new life. No, it couldn't be him. He'd be in so much trouble if his friends found out. So would I, if my father knew.

Another pretty girl winked at me. "Try not to catch his eye," she said. "Let us plain ones have some hope?"

I laughed, but it felt strained. People always thought my looks drew them. It wasn't. It was the warmth coming from my soul that attracted people and made them feel safe. Even if they technically should have wanted to kill me. Like the prince I'd shackled. Could this be the same one? I wanted to say no again, but I couldn't. He did promise he'd find me.

I wanted to see if I could sense him out, but truth was, I didn't want to know if it was him. Instead, I gathered my courage and asked. "I've been out of town for a few weeks. What's this wonderful prince's name?"

"Prince Nikolai Yurevich Tyrov."

Oh no. I lowered the fan, then shut it as daintily as I could. "Oh."

He found me. And I needed to be gone before he entered the hall. I pasted a smile on my face. "Excuse me."

I left without hearing their replies, heading straight for the French doors. Sod Society's rules, now wasn't the time for me to be proper. The house belonged to close friends of my family, so I knew this was the fastest way to escape. Out the doors, down the garden, over the wall. A short walk home for supplies and then a trip to Scotland, from where I'd find a ship to anywhere else.