Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 199: Flashback: Appealing at Any Age

The moment he heard the insult, Prince William’s eyes narrowed with anger. The two older boys immediately sensed a weak spot in his armour.

Russ gave a mocking laugh. "What? You don’t appreciate being called girly, even when you’re prettier than most of the actual girls in this court? Don’t you worry, my lovely. I can easily fix that! A broken nose will help you look a little uglier."

"You won’t hit me." William snorted.

"Really? And why not?"

"Partly because of who I am and partly because I can hit back. Hard." The prince’s response was infuriatingly calm.

Camilla wanted to whisper to William that he should probably shut his overconfident mouth and stop baiting the others. There was only one of him against two big, strong lads. How could he not end up on the losing side?

Russ smirked at William. "Really? And who might you be? The bastard son of some minor lord?"

William gave him a thin smile. "Not quite, I’m afraid. The son of a prince. And not a bastard one."

The two other youths immediately turned defensive and stepped back a little. "You lie! What prince?" one of them barked, an unmistakable edge of suspicion in his voice.

"Johan Devon of Islia." William said without emotion. "My father and I are here on a diplomatic mission on behalf of my uncle, King Edward. You may have heard of it?"

Russ and Bronson both paled slightly as they looked at William’s fine clothing and the heavy gold ring on one of his hands. Camilla could tell they were both weighing up his words, unsure whether to believe him or not.

It was only when William shrugged out of the dark blue tunic he was wearing to show them the insignia stitched on the inside, that Bronson and Russ realised he wasn’t lying about his identity.

The shield, spur and sword clustered together - the crest of the Crown of Islia - was elaborately stitched in gold and silver thread.

William smiled a little wider when the two young men were finally forced to bend the knee in submission to his royal rank.

"Our humblest apologies, Your Grace." Russ gritted between his clenched teeth. "We meant no offence by our actions."

William lazily pulled his tunic back on and smirked. "Whatever for? Tell me, which are you more sorry for - intimidating a girl or threatening to strike my pretty face?"

Russ glared but caught himself before he could say anything disrespectful, instead mumbling, "Both, Your Grace."

"So you admit you were doing wrong by the princess, then." William honed in on both youths.

Russ bit his lip and looked away. Bronson shuffled his weight awkwardly on the spot before he finally nodded.

"Choosing to target someone who’s far weaker than you, especially a girl, is the ultimate form of cowardice." William’s tone was so cold and hard, Camilla marveled it could come from a youth only a few years older than her. "Even lowly peasants like you should’ve learnt that. A pity you didn’t."

Camilla’s friends stood there, both blushing fiercely and unable to say anything, though their eyes flashed with temper. She stood there too, wondering if she should speak up.

What would she even say?

At any rate, it didn’t matter. William turned on his heel and started heading towards the stable doors. Almost as an afterthought, he turned back to look at Camilla and gestured that she should follow him in leaving.

For a moment, she was torn over what to do. It would make sense to stay with her friends than to go with someone she barely knew. Wouldn’t it?

So why did she feel so uneasy staying back with Russ and Bronson?

Before Camilla could give it much further thought, she picked up her skirts and scampered after William. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why that felt like the right decision.

She didn’t miss the incredulous looks on Russ and Bronson’s faces as she darted past them and towards the stable doors.

William was striding back towards the palace, not bothering to slow down for her. Camilla had to almost run to keep up with his longer legs.

"Thank you for helping me, my lord." she called out breathlessly. He didn’t even turn around to acknowledge her words.

"Are you in the habit of spending time with scoundrels like those?" William asked in a tone laden with disgust.

"No! I mean...they’ve been my friends for years." Camilla replied, her voice thin and tight. She felt duty bound to defend them. "Well I thought they were, at least. Now they treat me differently but won’t tell me why."

"I suggest then that you find yourself some new, better friends. Preferably girls." Prince William muttered without breaking his stride.

"You don’t think I should have any friends who are boys?"

He stopped briefly to look at her, shrugged, then kept walking again. "It’s probably not a good idea, no."

He was making it sound like boys were creatures she should discard. Camilla didn’t like it at all. She knew plenty of boys who weren’t like that. Her brothers certainly weren’t like that. "But you’re a boy." she pointed out.

"That’s right, I am. And I’m not your friend either." Prince William turned a corner, towards the guest wing. The look he threw her over his shoulder clearly said he didn’t want her to follow him any longer.

So she stopped.

- - -

A couple of nights later, Camilla found herself in the banquet hall and staring up quizzically at her dance partner - the very peculiar Islian prince. She wasn’t even sure why he’d asked her to dance, unless he just wanted to embarrass her before the entire court.

William seemed like the type of young man who would do exactly that.

Oh well, Camilla thought. At least I get to spend a few minutes away from the royal high table, where almost every person is unbearable and the dinner is just piles of greasy meat.

Prince William spun her around in time to the music, then caught her looking at him. He arched a brow back at her, his eyes the same pale green as springtime leaves. "What exactly are you looking at?"

"Nothing at all." Camilla grumbled and quickly stared at the floor, embarrassed to have been caught staring. She didn’t want him to think that she liked him, because she didn’t. She just found him terribly...strange.

She guessed William to be about her brother Malcolm’s age and he was almost as tall. That’s where the similarities between the two young men ended.

Malcolm was simply the best soul Camilla knew. He was warm and merry, easy to laugh with and had the uncanny ability to make friends in an instant. Everyone loved his cheerful nature.

The Islian youth was far colder and more reserved, completely lacking in Malcolm’s open, easy smiles. In fact, his expression rarely changed much. It was if Prince William deliberately wanted to avoid anyone knowing what he was thinking or feeling. He was oddly charming when he needed to be and yet...sly, perhaps? He walked around the palace looking as if he couldn’t care less what others thought of him or whether they even liked him.

Funny thing was, others did like him. The young ladies of the Moraigthian court at least, seemed to like him very much. For days now, Camilla had heard several of them whispering and giggling behind their hands about Prince William, marvelling over how rich he was.

He was the only heir to the beloved only brother of a powerful king. Apparently, this already made him wealthier than the King of Moraigth himself.

The young ladies also commented amongst themselves that he was handsome, and would only become more so as he grew older.

Even the noblewomen that Camilla had been sure would ignore a youth of his age, acted as if they were quite fascinated.

"Isn’t His Highness of Islia a little bit young for you?" Camilla had taken the opportunity one night to ask Lady Arabella Jasper, who was the grand old age of eighteen summers.

Lady Arabella had shaken her head disparagingly. "Perhaps now, but in a few years when the prince grows into a man, anyone with eyes can see he’ll be just magnificent. Besides, fabulous wealth like his is appealing at any age." She turned up her sharp nose. "Of course, I wouldn’t expect an utter child like you to truly understand."

Camilla glanced at Prince William one last time. He was slumped in his seat and looking both bored and tense, next to his father. She supposed the lad wasn’t unpleasant looking. He really did have stunning eyes and on the rare occasions when he smiled, showed perfectly straight white teeth.

He’d be far more attractive if he’d smile more often instead of just brooding all the time, Camilla thought sourly. Right now, he looks like he’s sitting next to his executioner.

Just magnificent, the ladies had said.

Frankly, Camilla couldn’t really see it.