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I hold up the apple to him. "I'm just glad that I didn't have to climb the palace trees for this one," I tell him with a wink before I turn and walk away. I don't miss his mouth opening with shock, recognition finally present in his eyes.
The festivities continue throughout the evening. As the crowd's wine and mead intake goes up, so too does the laughter. Father chortles next to me, talking to whoever will listen about how his new merchant ships are the best in the business. Thomas talks my other ear off, whatever he's saying not registering as I feel the Prince's eyes on me from across the room. I've felt them all night, every time I've looked up he's there. Every time our eyes connect, the heat builds, raging uncontrollably.
He's seated to the left of the King. I feel the ugly tendrils of jealousy spike through me when various maidens come by to talk to him. They giggle and swoon at everything he says, and I don't blame them. James Kensington is captivating.
It's finally time for everyone to leave and I feel relieved. If I have to spend one more moment near James Kensington I'm going to scream. My father can barely walk thanks to how much mead he drank, and it takes all of my strength to keep him upright. That's all we need is for him to pass out on the palace lawn with the King and Prince in attendance.
"Need some help?" comes the voice that I've memorized, and I cringe. Speak of the devil.
"We're fine," I reply, unable to look at him since that would require possessing the ability to turn, something my father's weight is preventing me from doing.
"I'm afraid I don't have any secret passageways around here that I can show you this time, so you must allow me to help you."
I turn my head as much as I can, trying to see just how many people are staring at us right now. I'm sure we're quite the sight. Me trying to hold up my portly father as we both stagger to the carriage, and the Prince hovering around us. Just perfect.
Much to my surprise though, people have cleared out much faster than I thought they would after such an event. I must really have been struggling to move my father if everyone else was able to get out of here before us. Maybe it would be all right if he helped. My father's much too out of it to really notice anyway. I can always claim ignorance in the morning if he asks me about it.
"That would be lovely, Your Majesty," I finally say, and the pressure on the left side of my shoulder is immediately lifted as the Prince lifts my Father off of me. He handles him with ease, like Father doesn't weigh what seems like a million pounds.
"Which way is your carriage?" the Prince asks, and I gesture to the left.
We walk silently, and there's an air of tension between us. He does remember me now, right? What's he thinking? What should I say?
My father mumbles as we walk, nonsensical comments about crops and ships and his need to marry me off, all comments that would make any daughter cringe in front of normal company, let alone in front of the country's next monarch.
The Prince chuckles when one particularly outlandish thing comes out of my father's mouth, and I find myself chuckling as well. It bursts out of me until I'm practically crying because I'm laughing so hard. My father raises his bloodshot eyes and looks at me quizzically, and it sets me off again. Father truly is going to be mortified if he ever finds out about this.
Before I know it, we've gotten to where my carriage is waiting, and the Prince helps the driver to get my father's large girth into the carriage safely. Not a second passes before my father begins to let out loud snores. My mortification is complete.
"Your Majesty," I begin.
"Call me James," he says, and I wonder if it's just my imagination that his voice has taken on a deeper, more sensual tone than before.
"James," I whisper, looking into his eyes. I've always been an eye person. Something to do with a book I once read that talked about the eyes being "the gateway to the soul." Once I read that, I always imagined I was looking into someone's very soul when I looked them in the eyes. It made staring at someone very awkward.
James's eyes look darker than they did earlier, so intense that I feel like he is the one looking into my soul, rather than the other way around.
He pulls something from his pocket and takes my hand in his. His hands are much rougher than I would have expected from a prince, and I immediately like him that much more.
"Here's a snack for the road, My Lady," he says to me, and I gape at the perfect apple sitting in my hand. I stare at his long fingers; feel their warmth and their weight, and the zing of possibility that travels up my arm where he is touching me.
"Saving me from my criminal ways," I respond, and I delight at the smile that crosses his face.
"I'll see you soon, beautiful Juliet," he says, lifting my hand to his mouth for a kiss that I feel all the way to my toes.
He helps me into the carriage, and we set off. I'm in a stupor the whole ride home, my mind whirling with what it all meant. Even the bear-like snores emanating from Father can't take away that I feel a little like I just experienced my own version of a fairy tale. I walk on air for the rest of the night, and into the next day.
James Kensington
It's been a month since the day of the tournament, and I feel like a naive fool. I mean, I'm not quite sure what "I'll see you soon," means in the Prince's head, but surely it doesn't mean a month. I haven't left the house since then because I've been so sure that he was going to come by and I would miss him. I'm an utter and total idiot.
I had kept the apple as a trinket, thinking it a romantic gesture. As time passed, and it became evident that the Prince would indeed not be seeing me soon, the apple became the symbol of everything I still needed to learn about men. I enjoyed feeding it to the Estate's pigs.
Today I'm leaving the house. Father left last week for a trading trip, thankfully quite recovered from his drunken muddle and none the wiser. Getting over his massive hangover meant that he didn't realize that I was twittering around like a love-sick fool.
But no more. Prince or not, he can go to hell.
I decide to go into town and have just started down the winding road that leads out of our manor, when I hear the thundering of a horse's hooves coming in my direction. The rider is traveling quite fast, and I pull my mare to the side of the road to let him pass.
