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"How's the crop this year, my boy?" asks my father. My attention wanders as they begin to discuss crop yields and different farming techniques. My father may be a merchant, but his hobby is farming. We could be here all day, and miss the matches entirely, if they get too far into their conversation.
Looking around I see that most of the eligible women of the area are in attendance. They're all chattering excitedly and looking around, I'm sure for the Prince. Speaking of the Prince, I wonder where he is?
Just as I think that, I glance up at a platform that's situated higher than all the other seating around the jousting field, and immediately freeze. There, talking to what looks like one of the King's advisors, is the Prince himself.
He's only grown more gorgeous with time. A little older than me when we had met, he had been in that stage between man and boy, not able to be labeled definitively as either one. Now he was definitely all man. There was no doubt in my mind. Judging by all the lust filled looks the girls around me were throwing at him, this hadn't gone unnoticed by them either.
I quickly look away when I see him begin to turn to look down from the makeshift tower, turning my attention back to the conversation between my father and Thomas which has now escalated to talking about the advantages of growing wheat versus rye. Scintillating conversation indeed.
A horn sounds, which thankfully brings their conversation finally to a close. My father holds out his arm for me to take, and we walk to one of the elevated platforms that sits to the left of the Prince's platform. I see families from some of the estates around us and realize this platform must be for the merchant class.
I sit in my seat, arranging my thick dress around me so it takes up the least amount of room. The quarters are a bit tight thanks to the rather enormous arse of Master Darby who has taken the seat beside me. As the matches begin, Father and Master Darby start a conversation over my head. This time, the talk is about their latest shipments from the Baltic markets, something that is at least a hair more interesting than crop yields. I wonder how they can even hear each other over the clang of the knights' lances.
I'm shocked when the squire announces that the next match will feature Prince James. I would have thought that the heir of the British monarchy wouldn't be allowed to engage in such sports for fear of injury. I wonder how he managed to pull this off.
My heart skips a beat as each riders' horse take off, galloping towards each other rapidly. My vantage point of the Prince is perfect, and I find myself rising up in my seat as he gets closer and closer to his target.
There's a loud clash as each riders' lance hits the armor of the other rider, making me wince. My wince turns to a loud "Whoop" when the Prince manages to unhorse his opponent, sending the knight hurtling to the ground.
The Prince looks unhurt from the collision and waves pompously to the crowd. He rides his horse past the various platforms, accepting the praise of his adoring subjects. Much to my surprise, he stops in front of my platform, taking his helmet off and turning his sky-blue eyes towards me. His intense gaze holds mine for what feels like an eternity. I feel like I can't breathe as he brings his horse closer, reaching for a rose that someone had thrown at him that had gotten stuck on his saddle. He hands me the rose and gives me a wink before riding off. The hypnotic spell he put me under continues even as the roar of the crowd invades the moment. I stare in disbelief at the rose in my shaking hands. Did he somehow recognize me?
The rest of the matches pass by in a blur. I'm so distracted that I honestly couldn't tell you if anyone died during their jousting round or not. I grip the rose in my hand and run through all the possible scenarios of why the Prince chose to give it to me. My father rouses me from my daze, holding his arm out again to lead me off the platform.
"Things are going a little too far when my little girl is turning the head of the Prince," he grumbles under his breath.
I can't help but smile. If only I had really caught the attention of the Prince.
There's a reception being held to celebrate the winner of the tournament. Long rows of tables and chairs are situated in the gardens near where the jousting took place. It's a serve yourself kind of banquet, and I grab a plate from where my father has set our belongings to save our places.
There's an abundance of delicious looking food available, and I give a start when I notice a bowl full of what looks like the King's famous apples ripe for the taking. As I reach out my hand to grab one, a voice whispers on my neck.
"Those apples are famous you know," says the voice that irrefutably belongs to the Prince.
A corner of my mouth quirks as I take my time grabbing one before turning around to look at him. His eyes hold no clue that he recognizes me. I take a bite, and stare back at him. His eyes are roving all over me, studying my face and hair intently. He's looking at me like he's famished, and I'm the only thing on the menu. My tongue darts out, snagging some apple juice off of my lip. I watch delightedly as his gaze gets tripped up on the bottom lip that I just licked.
"I have heard that," I tell him coyly. "These don't quite taste as good as the ones that I've taken straight from the source though."
A flash of a memory appears in his eyes, and he takes another long look at me before shaking his head.
"Do you steal from the King often?" he asks, amused.
"Only once before," I respond casually.
The Prince looks at me intently again but still can't quite seem to connect the dots. Or there's no dots to connect. After all, it was only an hour with an awkward young girl in a life that has without a doubt been filled with a host of much more exciting happenings. I can just pretend that my time with him that day hasn't taken up most of my daydreams since then.
"How did you like the tournament?" the Prince asks me as I take a step to move past him.
"It was quite exciting. I'm not sure that the Crown Prince of England should be taking such risks though," I tell him in jest.
Frustration sounds upon his face before his eyes darken to mask any emotions, a perfect poker face. "Yes, yes. I've been told such a thing many a time."
"You did very well though," I say in a softened tone. Much to my surprise, a blush tinges his cheeks.
"I'm not bad," he answers.
There's so much I've wanted to say to him over the years, but now that he's actually standing in front of me, my mind has gone completely blank. My heart stumbles, and I finally decide that it's best to tuck and run before I embarrass myself further.
I give a small curtsy to the Prince before beginning to walk away. A couple of steps in, I pause and look back, realizing that the Prince's eyes are glued to my arse. I clear my throat, and he quickly looks up at my face, his cheeks reddening once again. He gives me that damn smirk of his that tests the cool image I'm trying to present.
