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“I’ll get that ready right away. Would you like anything else?” she asked.
“Thank you.” Theodore smiled, though it failed to reach his eyes. “That will be all for today.”
“Of course, sir. Do come again.”
He nodded, stepping out onto the street where life flowed around him in a steady stream. He took a deep breath, the sugar-laden air of the shop replaced by the crispness of the outside world. In his chest, the weight of duty pressed heavily, yet it was the lightness of love unfound that propelled him forward.
Continuing down the street, he stopped in front of a glass-blowing shop, a place he liked to visit often. His artist’s eye was always interested in the intricate baubles made there.
The chime of the glass shop’s doorbell announced Prince Theodore’s entrance, a sound as clear and delicate as the myriad of creations that covered the shelves of the small shop.
“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” greeted the master glassblower. He wiped his hands on his apron.
“Good afternoon,” Theodore replied, his eyes roving over the elegant vases and intricate sculptures that lined the shelves, searching not for the artistry before him but for the gray-eyed woman who had captured his heart through mere brushstrokes.
“Is there anything I can assist you with today?” The glassblower’s question pierced his reverie, pulling him back to the present.
“Perhaps,” Theodore said, his fingers tracing the smooth curve of a sapphire vase. “I’m looking for someone—a woman with eyes like the stormy sea.”
“Ah, many come to watch the glassblowing. It’s quite the spectacle,” the man mused thoughtfully. “But gray eyes... I’m afraid no one comes to mind.”
“Thank you, anyway.” Theodore nodded, his gaze lingering on a delicate glass rose, its petals frozen in time, untouchable yet yearning to be held.
The journey next led him to the jewelry store, a place of timeless treasures and sparkling allure.
“Prince Theodore!” The jeweler welcomed him like an old friend. “What brings you to our humble establishment?”
“Merely browsing, Mrs. Hartley,” he replied, allowing his gaze to sweep across the display cases glinting with diamonds and gold.
“Or perhaps looking for something more...specific?” she ventured, a knowing twinkle in her eye as she gestured toward the engagement rings. “You’ve been quite the topic of conversation among the ladies. Any chance you’re finally ready to settle down?”
“Ah, you are as perceptive as ever,” Theodore began. “But I’m afraid my heart is already spoken for, though I’ve yet to find the owner.”
“Is that so?” Mrs. Hartley leaned forward conspiratorially, her voice lowering to a playful whisper. “And if you did find her, might you need an engagement ring, then? Perhaps this one?” She presented a ring whose diamond center stone captured the light with a resolute sparkle.
“Perhaps,” Theodore echoed, the word tinged with wistfulness. “It’s a beautiful piece, but it’s the hand that wears it that will give it true meaning.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Hartley agreed, her expression softening. “She must be quite special to have won the heart of Theron’s most eligible bachelor.”
“More than you know,” he replied.
With a courteous nod, Theodore excused himself, knowing he needed to return home. There was a dinner party at the palace that night, and he was expected to be there, dressed in his finest.
As he walked into the palace, he sighed. I’ll find her tomorrow.
“Your Highness,” greeted Sir Chamberlain. “The kingdom has felt your presence today.”
“Has it?” Theodore’s voice held the faintest trace of irony as he handed his coat to the waiting servant. “I fear I’ve accomplished very little on its behalf.”
“Nevertheless, the people are always heartened to see their prince amongst them,” Sir Chamberlain assured him, his loyalty to the crown evident in his steadfast gaze. “If I may say, you wear concern on your brow this eve.”
“I simply need to get ready for the supper party.” He couldn’t let others worry about his quest to find his gray-eyed lady.
As the silence enveloped him, he contemplated the spaces between his princely duties and the quiet yearning of his heart. The castle’s walls, lined with the echoes of generations, seemed to close in, a reminder of the lineage he was bound to uphold.
“Where are you?” he murmured. “You exist beyond the canvas, beyond my dreams. You must.”
In the solitude of his chambers, Theodore dressed for the supper party. He had no desire to go, but he knew it was expected. And he always did what was expected of him.
