Tales Of Corinthia

This is a short story from the same series of short stories as ‘story 1- A stubborn fool and the patient doctor’

If you enjoy this story let me know and thank you for reading.

STORY 7 – SILK AND EMERALDS 

Thousands gathered in the capital each year for the royal ball most unable to even dream of attending. However, the common folk used the occasion to hold festivals and garner trade. Many of the traditions in my city I was never allowed to see most my father believing to be unbecoming of an heir to the throne. So instead, I sat back watching from above as my people found their joy.  

The royal ball was a much more private affair only those my father considered of good standing ever being allowed to attend. Nobility and war heroes usually but the occasional merchant would make their way in. While the conversation proved dreary the party was the highlight of my years trapped in the castle.  

Elegant décor filled the ballroom and servant ran the room with the efficacy of the royal guard. Their efficient waltz undisturbed by the party around them. Hundreds of candles were used every year to light the outdated chandeliers. Father believing the switch to crystals would ruin the opulent appearance of the grand hall.  

On top of the grandiose displays of wealth my father pulled each year he did also take the chance to look good. Each year the royal ball would end with a donation to an orphanage of my fathers choosing. He encourages the nobles to take part in the charity, but it never lasts more than the night.  

The butler was typically in charge of the ball from start to finish commanding the servants as needed. Including my handservant who spent the last hour trying to suffocate me with a corset that didn’t quite fit. She was no more apologetic than anyone else in the room who laughed at my plight.  

As usual the hall was filled with the kingdoms most notable in polite society the low hum of conversation filling the air. Waves of people traversed the room below the shimmering moonlight streaming through to the dance floor. Beside me on the small podium our thrones sat on my father watched the crowd. His weathered eyes glancing wearily into the crowd with a smile. Tiredly listening as the master of ceremonies announced each new arrival.  

Once the last of the arrivals had entered, he stood gaining the rapt attention of everyone in the room. Silence took over no one daring to interrupt their king while he gave the yearly speech. Every year it was the same and I just started to zone out until the end the same words each year, “And everyone please enjoy this years festivities!” The audience quickly erupted into cheers as he sat back looking over to me with a smile.  

“You may go enjoy the party.” He quietly told me ignoring my excitement as I shot to my feet.  

Other than the fantastical nature of the royal ball I have reasons to enjoy it. The main one being my best friend and partner in crime. Arabelle is the fifth daughter of the honourable Lord Baxter. We met as young children during counsel meetings and take every chance we get to cause trouble. Much to my fathers dismay. Nowadays it’s not as common for us to cause trouble but my father has noticed the dent in his wine cellar.  

I found her stood off to the side of the hall nursing a glass of wine as she watched the dancing. Her pale face lightly dusted in pink blush and her lips-stained red. A deep emerald gown flowed off her body stopping just before her ankles. Adorned by a cape of chiffon silk resting behind her not touching the ground as to not catch on her heels. The outfit held together by a gold brooch I bought her a few months ago the small emerald insignia dazzling in the candlelight.  

Her eyes met mine through the crowd a small smirk playing at her lips as she beckoned me over. My feet moving without my command to make their way to their goddess. The power she held over me comparable to her beauty. An unimaginable combination of control that made my heart ricochet in my chest.  

Once I was within arms reach her hand came to gently touch my chin before I felt her readjust my collar, “Can’t have you looking a mess can we Princess.”  

My laugh was immediate all the tension leaving my body, “No I suppose not, you look wonderful by the way.”  

“Wonderful? With the way you were looking at me I thought you may have more to say.” She teased the smirk still on her face as she looked slightly up at me. Despite relenting on me wearing a suit father still insisted on a corset and heels.  

“Oh, my apologies I was just admiring the goddess of beauty’s new competition.” I smiled back at her before bowing and offering my hand for a dance. The words not needing to be spoke to know what I wanted.  

Silently she took my hand giggling softly as I took her to the dance floor; her wine discarded somewhere along the way. We fell into idle conversation as we danced through many songs. Taking the time to catch up on the past few months while the others around us did the same.  

Her hand gently held mine through the night of festivity her unblemished skin soft against mine.  

We didn’t last long in the main hall before we escaped to the inner sanctum. She was the only person I ever brought into the private chambers of the palace. Reserved for only the royals it was an honour sought by many catch even a glimpse of our private lives. A privilege given to very few by my father and even less by myself.  

Our destination was the library having already plundered a bottle of wine from the staff. Father would undoubtedly find us in here later but that didn’t matter right now sneaking past guards who barely suppressed their amusement. Arabelle’s giggling not helping much with our impromptu stealth operation.  

Books and ink filled the library with a recognisable smell one that soothed our souls and brought back years of studying old tomes. Afternoons spent hiding from the counsel in here as children only ever disturbed by my father or his guard. Visits cut short by adults with things to do dragging us from place to place.  

A benefit of getting older was the freedom to see eachother when we wanted however much responsibility we had. Even as adults hiding out in here to avoid the responsibilities of our future titles. Seeing Arabelle be prepared for marriage to a noble put into perspective how lucky I was to be the heir. Luckily her parents weren’t pushing her to marry but her education was completely different to mine.  

While I was educated as the heir to the throne in everything from basic mathematics to war strategy. Arabelle was taught how to care for a noble house exclusively her sole purpose as the fifth child to be married and bring the family connections. The infuriated me and when she first brought it up, we argued but my father had calmed me and made me apologise to her.  

That discussion had happened on the same plush sofa we were currently sat on Arabelle sat turned to me one leg over the other. Almost everything was the same as that day except we had a lot more formal garb on. Even the way her shoulder brushed against mine gently lighting a burning fire in my skin that I rushed to quell. Not risking it’s spread becoming noticeable.  

Neither of us were drunk but we weren’t sober either sitting in the jolly middle that the commoners often referred to as “tipsy”. Our conversation was light, and we sat close her skin brushing against my sleeve. A gentle heat spreading up my neck as she stared up at my with the same smirk she used to beckon to me.  

An unusual brightness was set in her eyes that looked unmistakably wet despite no tears falling. My voice caught in my throat when I tried to ask if she was alright her hand resting on my side. She said something I didn’t register through my panic her hand firmly gripping my side the smirk not leaving. I just nodded in response unsure what was being asked of me.  

Before I could question it warm wet lips collided with mine tenderly drawing me in. My eyes falling closed as I relax into her kissing back gently moving to hold her close to me. Salty wetness coats my lips and I pull away holding her by the waist to look in her eyes. Tears avoiding my glance as she takes deep breaths wiping at her eyes, “I’m sorry.” I found myself saying making her immediately look at me wide eyed.  

“No, no, no!” She quickly said grasping my hand with both of hers, “Please don’t apologise, happy tears,”  

I looked at her nervously for a moment wishing I could deduce if she was truthful from a look alone, “If It’s any help I like you too.”  

This seemed to be the right thing to say her grip on me still firm but not tight as she nodded smiling at me, “I wanted to do this properly.”  

“I’m glad you didn’t,” I laugh and lean over to kiss her cheek, “I am so glad you didn’t.”