Dance of Ciprahn

Chapter Twelve: Cass

The applause is thunderous. T lifts me back to my feet from the dip and I looked around. A sea of smiling faces and clapping hands. Even the scowling girls now wear masks of praise. The dance had been so surreal and magical I was momentarily taken aback. It was like a perfect dream from which I have now only finally woken from. Suddenly overwhelmed with shyness I cling to T's arm. He looks gallant and flashes the masses his signature smile. My heart thunders. "Thank you so much for coming out everyone!" Then he says something in his native language that I don't understand. Once the crowd begins dispersing he turns and looks at me blankly. He seems to be thinking of something to say and for a moment he doesn't seem like a larger-than-life prince but the normal boy next door type. 

"Wow that was quite a dance you are an avid dancer yes?" he finally says. I tell him that I'm not the greatest dancer and it was all him that made us look good. "Nah don't say that you captivated them with your natural grace and beauty." He grins in a teasing sort of way, obviously enjoying embarrassing me. I feel my cheeks burn red and sheepishly look to the side. This guy... I can't help grinning myself. "So what are you up to tonight? I'm glad to be finally free of all these fakers." He wrinkles his nose and sticks out his tongue in mock disgust. "I don't know. I came with my two friends..." my voice trails off wondering where they have run off to. "These things stress me out. I feel like I have to be on all the time. Mr. Super Duper Prince Man, always charming and congenial. I kind of just want to stay home. And people always want something from me. So much insincerity," he says looking nowhere in particular. I nod eagerly. Unsure of what to say and afraid I'd scare him away I elect to just listen to him intently. 

"I liked how you didn't know who I was and talked to me like a normal person. I forget what that's like — not having everyone trying to wipe your butt for you all the time." I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "Oh sorry" he laughs. "Not language befitting a prince." He waves his finger mockingly. "I try not to be vulgar in public too much." "Even though most people are butts themselves." I couldn't help but smile at that. He looks at me warmly and my brain goes to mush. "So what is it like now? Now that you know the truth? Are things any different?" I shake my head. "Good. I need to be around people who are real and genuine. And I think you are my new friend yes?" "Of course!" I reply. "Come! Let us walk around the Gardens and talk and get to know each other. 

Before I am drawn back into the abyss — my stupid "princely" duties." He wrinkles his nose in his cute manner again. The Gardens are beautiful, with hanging vines and flowers and plants of every sort and color. It is very warm since it is a greenhouse of sorts. We alternate talking and listening and I hold on to each new tidbit I learn about T like a priceless morsel. His lone bald bodyguard trails us from a comfortable distance but besides that we were alone. I cannot believe the evening I am having and my heart soars on angel wings inside my chest. My cheeks are sore from smiling so much and I haven't laughed this much in years. T is pretty mellow and down to earth. I am surprised to learn he is a bit of shut-in and bookworm. 

His flamboyant performances are mostly just for show and for when he must act as his alter ego The Prince. It pains me to see how terribly lonely he is and how he is trapped to act as the Prince for the masses. He doesn't really have any close friends, other than a few bodyguards and one or two young people in the aristocracy. He really seems to enjoy talking with me and my presence — I can scarcely contain a squeal of glee! We are walking through a beautiful vined arch when suddenly three men pounce on the bodyguard and subdue him. 

"My prince, I am sorry!" he said as he bemoaned his failure. T and I stand there in shock when five more men emerge and surround us. "Ah. Dammit." mutters T. "Run!" he tells me as he punches one of the men in the face. The punch has little effect and two men forcibly subdue him without too much violence done to him. "Leave her be! She is innocent and my friend!" He yells. I like an idiot standing there while I perhaps could have run away. I watched in terror as they wrestle T to the floor and didn't want to leave him. One of the men puts on ironclad grip on my wrist. One pulls out a gun. "Please. No scene." I look over at T in panic. He nods — motioning for me to comply. They lead us out to an unmarked black limousine