Betrothed to Trouble

Chapter 23 - A Fragile Line

 “Sergei!” a soft, lilting voice called out, her thick Freyrgardian accent breaking through the comfortable silence between us as we walked through the gardens with Zefir sniffing about happily.

            “Who –“ I began, surprised that someone would call Sergei without using his title. As the Crown Prince, nooone is allowed to call him by name except for those of equal rank, such as me, and the King and Queen themselves.

            I could barely complete my sentence when I saw a flash of straw blond hair and a flurry of powder blue fabric launch itself on Sergei, who looked equally horrified as I was, though I’m sure for entirely different reasons.

            The blonde woman began jabbering shrilly to an ashen faced Sergei, not once releasing her arms from around his torso. I raised an eyebrow at their intimate position. How rude of her! She didn’t even acknowledge my presence. She was talking in the Freyrgardian native tongue, which is Russian. Freyrgard is one of the smaller kingdoms dotting the borders of the Russian Empire, whilst Ansodria is a small monarchy, subsidiary to the French. I personally speak both French and English fluently, so luckily for this blonde twit, I don’t understand a word that she’s saying.

            “Hello, are you a friend of Sergei’s?” I tried asking politely, though one must be stupid to mistake my sugary sweet tone as friendliness. My mechanical smile did nothing to hide the malice in my eyes.

            Sergei cleared his throat and gently entangled the blonde, who was now glaring at me, from his body. “Annelies,” he scowled down at her, and understanding suddenly hit me as I noticed how she smiled up adoringly at him before moving away. Huh? Why am I so surprised?

            Still,, I couldn’t ignore the stab of jealousy I felt as I saw her face clearly for the first time. She was breathtakingly gorgeous, with crystal clear, almost translucent pale skin, long flowing straw blonde curls which reached her waist, and the most striking pair of grey eyes which scrutinised me critically. And as she looked down her sharp, thin nose at me, I realised that she was a good inch taller than me. The simple, yet elegant powder blue gown she wore enchanced her slim waist and her whole persona reflected the perfect Freyrgardian stereotype: tall, pale, blonde, with light coloured eyes and, uh, snobby.

            “Giselle, this is Annelies,” Sergei introduced, clearly uncomfortable as Anneliese entwined their hands together. “She’s my, mm, best friend,” he finished awkwardly, and I almost rolled my eyes at his blatantly obvious hesitation.

            Luckily for her, Annelies had the courtesy to curtsy in front of me, though her piercing grey eyes never left mine as she dipped gracefully.

            “It is an honour to meet the Princess of Ansodria herself, and of course, Sergei’s wife,” she greeted smoothly, her calm demeanour slightly throwing me off guard. “Well, I was really surprised to receive the invitation to the wedding as Sergei had told me that he was in no rush to get married before,” she shot Sergei a pointed look to which he ignored. “So congratulations,” she smiled at me, her blood red lips parting, and I couldn’t help but be intimidated by her pearly white teeth. The image of a tigress flashing her fangs would have been more appropriate.

            Well, two can play this game, can’t we?

            “It is my pleasure too to finally be able to meet Sergei’s good friend. He never stops talking about you,” I countered, flashing her a decidedly fake smile, and enjoying the horrified look on Sergei’s face as Annelies’s face lit up at my words.

            “Really? How come you never write to me then?” she whined, gripping her arm with such practiced familiarity that it disgusts me. Do they take me for an idiot? It may be dark out here but I’m not blind you know.