His Little Heir

If We Were Both Guys

      Daya?" Her mother called from across the dancefloor, "There's someone here that I'd like you to meet."

      She put on a plaster smile, "Coming, mom!"

      From beneath it, she gritted her teeth. If she'd like to meet anyone, it would be pillow number one and two of sleeplandia, not who ever this was. Daya refastened her peach heels that she had silently removed half an hour before. They clicked against the blue, polished onyx, matching her less than eager, but always graceful stride.

      Stupid mixer parties. When her mother canceled the table meeting in favor of a "more welcoming" and "more open" ball setting, Daya threw up in her mouth. Nothing got done at parties- nothing but drinking and dancing, that is.

     A sharp as crystal fantasy flung pillars of colored light into the future, and she saw no one but herself in the middle of it all. Clean energy, accessible higher education, and most importantly, no agendaless parties. Maybe that's why democracies made fun of families like hers. Party after party, but nothing to celebrate.

     Daya twisted her skirt's coral chiffon around her twitching fingers, and wove her way through monarchs and senators alike. At the end of the tunnel of dancers, there stood Mayella beckoning and beaming.

     "Daya, I'd like you to meet Prince Austin Christopher of Aspin!" She laughed with a sparkle of mischief in her eye, but Daya couldn't quite unearth the reason from their ocean blue depths.

     She took a deep breath and looked up at him. He wasn't much taller than her, barely a head, yet, that's not what took her off gaurd. His glacier blue eyes melted through Daya's crabby demeanor in an instant, allowing for something within her to be replenished. She blinked. Is this what the first man to drink water felt like, to have something so vitally missing be unwittingly returned to him?

    Daya eyed him, trying to grasp what his first language may be. Aspin, he's from Aspin. Now, what language do Apainians speak? Definitely not spanish, no, they didn't have a spanish settler population like Quishea' did. It dangled at the tip of her tounge. Aspainain, Aspainian, did she even know the language?

     "Daya?" Her mother tapped her on her shoulder.

     She jumped, "Sí, no, quiero decir, ¡soy yo! Por favor dime que no hablas español!"

     The prince looked dimly at her. His brow furrowed in aconfusion Daya hoped she'd read correctly, "Did- Did I break her?"

     He shot her a smirk, but his lips unfurled into what looked to be concern. Her cheeks inflamed the longer she stared at them. S***. Daya could pinch herself; she shouldn't be thinking like that.

     Mayella ran a tender hand down her back, "No no, she's fine." The gentle palm hardened into a nudge, pushing Daya closer to Austin, "Go on, honey."

     "Hi." She swallowed a lump that had gathered in her throat. Daya could smell his cologne, a sweet, candy like smell, in light of her mother's prodding. She itched her nose in distress, "I'm Princess Daya Adele Savech of Quishea; I-I'm sure you've met my parents, yes?"

     "I have, and very delightful people they are." He sent her a sloped smile, attracting her attention again to his lips.

     She forced herself to look at the night sky through the skylights. However, even there, she still was left frozen by his soft gaze. Daya chewed the inside of her cheeks; this was an important party, not a meeting for singles.

     "Good! I'll leave you kids alone then!" Her mother flashed her one, last smile before her heels traveled the same path Daya's had moments ago.