Tense

23 - Do you want to be with me?

••••
"Are you sure you want to stay, son?"
"Yes father. More than anything."
"Your mother had to force you to come along and now you won't leave. It's her isn't it?"
"Father please, stop with the eyebrow wiggling! And yes...maybe it is her."
"..."
"Father stop!"
"My ice cold son, finally in love! How I looked forward to this day!"
"No, please, I am NOT in..."
"Ahh, makes me nostalgic of how I met your ma. Did you kno..."
"I am definitely not engaging in this conversation anymore!"
"Aaaand there he goes, back to his old ways with that same cold stare. Maybe that girl really did a number on him. Don't you think, honey?"
••••

The ball had ended a few hours ago while the prince's words stuck fresh in my mind playing over and over again. Feelings of dread and anxiety crept down my spine and I knew I had gotten too close.

This was wrong. All of it was wrong.

The Prince was up to something and the worst of it played in my mind. He was too close. So close I could feel his sword at my throat and a pistol cocked at my head while my back was against a wall. I had to get away! Even though his friendly demeanour made me lower my guard in my mind I now saw a more sinister smile on his face. He wasn't about to leave and would be out to get me. I needed to get out of here!

When my maids bid me good night and I was sat alone with my thoughts Eric popped back into my mind. He would surly help me. Surly, he would know what to do. But telling him about the Prince would mean telling him about me.

Nobody can know about me.

When I left to sneak into the parlour my mind was made up. I had to ask Eric. The Prince was wrong. I was free. Free to leave, to get away from danger. With every step I took in the halls my breathing grew more shallow.

He would help me. He would listen. Right?

I found the parlour where Eric sat in the low light of a dripping candle, waiting, while skimming though a book. He looked defeated.

He would help me. He had to.

„Hey there" I croaked in a hushed tone, as I entered.

„Hey, how are you." he greeted me, the defeated look gone from his face in an instant, replaced with a heart wrenching smile.

I began approaching him and he met me halfway to engulf me in a tight hug. My nose filled with the fresh forestry scent of his cologne.

"I am glad you came", he said caressing my hand reassuringly, as he had led me to the couch he had been sitting on, mistaking my anxiety about the Prince for anxiety of sneaking out to be with him.

Before I could ask him anything he told me how bland the ball seemed for him, having to dance with his brides to be, making forced conversation and brought a sad smile to my face when talking about his week. I listend silently with a polite smile masking my face.

While I was out riding in the woods with the Spanish royals or attending their tea and parlour times, he had been on various dates. He sighed when he said he had enough of excruciating talk about dresses and the nice weather of Angeles.

"Maybe you just didn't listen." I told him absentmindedly. "Or you were the one not engaging in conversations."

He huffed at me childishly. "Yes, but why would I?"

I shook my head staring at him with a now stern look on my face. "Eric, you can't ignore why they are here. You are one dutiful man, and for once you ignore them all?"

I looked at the man next to me with once again tousled hair, giving him a young and boyish look, while his attire showed the man he was. But before me was just a man, exhausted and worn out, rather than the regal prince I saw at all the important functions.