Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 30: Out of Reach
6 June, 1358. Magdaline Castle, Islia
William leaned back uncomfortably in his chair at the royal high table in the banquet hall, trying to mask his profound boredom. A troupe of travelling bards were passing through the court and had now taken centre stage, singing a ballad in the strange language of the lands to the west of Islia. The king and queen were listening attentively, as were most other people. William was willing to bet his entire fortune that many in the audience were feigning interest, simply because the royal couple were fond of the music.
William didn’t care for bards or foreign ballads. He especially didn’t care for having to sit still next to Princess Camilla and pretend to be indifferent to her, when he could feel his body throb with hot longing.
Ever since they had been forced to spend time together during the storm in the forest, his desire for her had increased tenfold. He hadn’t even thought that was possible. But his mind was now flooded nonstop with thoughts of her, keeping him awake at night and on edge during the day. He found himself obsessed with the lines of her slim back and the lush, flawless curves of her cleavage. How her skin had smelled sweet, like summer peaches and honey. The way her body had felt so goddamn good pressed up against him. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from groaning out loud.
She was now sitting next to him, poised and elegant like a perfect lady, so near but so far. He couldn’t help but notice small details about her. The small freckle below her left ear that he longed to kiss. The set of her shoulders. The way her dainty hands were free of rings apart from one slender gold band on her little finger, studded with tiny pink pearls.
She didn’t notice him at all, of course. She seemed to genuinely be paying attention to the bard’s singing. He vaguely remembered someone once mentioning that Camilla’s mother had been from one of the western kingdoms - perhaps she understood the odd sounding, sharp language?
William fumed silently, wanting to pound his fist on the table. How could she not feel his gaze boring into her? Or maybe she did feel it but was just ignoring him? As he felt his temper rising, it dawned on him how ridiculous his situation was. He was sitting there, brooding in anger at someone who hadn’t been anything but perfectly polite to him today.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
He hated feeling so out of control, like he couldn’t keep a tight rein over his thoughts or emotions. He had never been at the mercy of another person this way, especially not a mere woman. She is the cause of all my problems, he seethed to himself. He was starting to hate her for it.
- - -
Camilla sat quietly and listened to the ballad being performed before the court. The language and melody reminded her of her mother, who had hummed similar melancholy tunes as she’d brushed out Camilla’s hair and tucked her into bed every night.
Concentrating on the music brought her a measure of bittersweet comfort, letting her mind drift to happier times. She remembered her mother’s warm embrace and the way her hair was always scented with honey blossoms.
The music also helped keep her focus away from the young man sitting to her left.
Camilla had been trying to avoid William as much as possible after the disastrous episode in the woods a few days earlier. The only time they really had to cross paths was during dinner when they were assigned seats next to each other. Even then, they barely spoke. He continued to coldly ignore her. She in turn was utterly mortified at how recent events had panned out.
First, she had gotten lost during a silly race and ended up with no horse, then her predicament had left them both stranded and sheltering from a storm. Worst of all by far, she’d nearly frozen to death and this had forced William to remove her wet clothes and warm her with his own body heat.
Camilla closed her eyes briefly at the memory, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her whole. No wonder the prince had been avoiding looking at her even more than usual. He didn’t enjoy her company as it was, yet he had been forced to sit pressed against her for hours when she was barely dressed and had probably looked like a drowned rat.
He had said so himself - he simply wanted to avoid King Edward’s wrath if anything had happened to her. Of course he would be disgusted by her.
Camilla turned her attention to the crowded hall again. The bard had finished singing and the king and queen clapped with enthusiasm, forcing the rest of the audience to follow. The court musicians then took their usual place and started playing a lively tune. People started pairing up to begin the evening’s dancing.
Camilla knew that apart from Sir Francis, no one would approach her for dancing. The realisation no longer hurt quite as much, she was getting used to being excluded. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that the prince hadn’t risen from his chair either. This surprised her - William was always the first to join in the merriment, always surrounded by admiring ladies. The ladies would practically argue amongst themselves over who would dance with him first.
Camilla watched the crowd, reconciled to yet another night of watching everyone else have fun around her when all of a sudden, a tall black haired man approached her. Bowing respectfully, he held out a hand and asked her to dance.
She was taken aback. She didn’t really want to dance with a complete stranger but couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse on the spot. Then again, she asked herself, wasn’t this what she was hoping for? Didn’t she want to stop feeling so much like an interloper? She smiled and nodded, allowing him to lead her to the centre of the hall.
The man started spinning her in time to the music and grinned down at her. "You sure are a beautiful lady, Your Highness." He slurred his words slightly.
"Thank you." Camilla replied as she was whirled around again before being pulled back into his arms. He pulled her against him far too close for her comfort, making her flinch. The first time it happened she thought it might have been an accident, but it happened again and again. As she was pulled and held against his body again, she could smell liquor on his breath and quickly realised he was drunk. How could she extricate herself from this without causing offence?
Camilla didn’t want to make a public scene the very first time she was asked to dance at this court. She knew people here generally though of her as haughty and aloof, when she just felt painfully intimidated because she was surrounded by people who disliked her. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself but the way this man kept pressing his body against hers was making her skin crawl.
She tried to pull away at least slightly but the man’s iron grip on her waist prevented her.
"Tell me a little about yourself, Your Highness. I’ve heard rumours that the ladies from the northern kingdoms are far more liberal than those of the Islian court." He looked down and leered at the neckline of her gown. "Is it true you’re all taught how to pleasure a man with your tongue from the moment you can talk?"
Camilla stared at him in dismay. She was too appalled and embarrassed to even respond properly. The man kept grinning down at her as if he’d said something perfectly reasonable. Were these the kind of vile things that the Islian court believed about her? Did everyone assume she was some kind of whore, just because she was from another country? No wonder everyone turned their noses up at her.
She didn’t dare slap him but was determined to break from his grasp and leave. She’d rather sit alone for the rest of her days and be ignored by everyone than be spoken to so disrespectfully. "I’m tired, sir. I want to go sit down now." Her voice was firm as she tried to wriggle away.
"Oh don’t be like that!" the man slurred, his hand sliding up her back and locking her in place. He grinned at her again. "No need to be so coy about enjoying yourself, my little princess."
Camilla’s patience ran out. She had to escape even she did end up making a scene. Realising a slap might be her only option, she was about to raise her hand when she suddenly noticed another man standing next to them. She heard him clear his throat.
She turned to see Prince William glaring at them both.
