Flora and Fauna

The ballroom looked positively regal this evening. As opposed to how it usual boring presentation meant for receiving our people. I believe in their voices and that they deserve them, truly. But can't our grand ballroom also look divine while we do it?

"It's not right to flaunt our fortune in front of those coming to us because they are without, Katerina," my mother always reminded me whenever I complained. As well as how uneconomical it was to constantly keep this space in such a state.

But, like a dragon, I had a taste for luxury. I desired to live in it, always. Tonight, I was dressed in the most decadent dress I have ever donned. I would like to take this out again if it wasn't such a gauche thing to re-wear dresses.

Alas, I would just have to make the most of it this evening.

A full-length gown, it was lilac gossamer for the spring weather. The skirts were covered in a cascading river of delicate, white satin freesias that grew more abundant as they fell closer to the floor. The bodice was sprinkled with tiny diamonds, making it look like stars spattering the sky at sunrise. The shoulders swooped down my shoulders after falling out of a sweetheart neckline, and gloves of the same fabric as the flowers covered my forearms from fingertip to elbow.

To show off the radiance of this gown in all its well-deserved glory, I had my handmaiden piece, my curly mahogany hair atop my head, with only a few tresses here and there falling down my neck. A glittering diadem with a sizeable amethyst gem in its center, paired with its associated necklace and bracelet, tied everything together in a nice little bow.

I was in love.

Not with a man, of course. Eighteen may be the right time to marry. However, I had to find a man willing to spoil me as much as I required.

No, I was in love with this dress.

I knew it was vain and shallow to have such feelings for swaths of fabric sewed together so perfectly, but I couldn't help it.

After admiring my attire atop the dais at the far end of the room, I turned my attention to the party before me. It was our annual Ostara celebration—the first day of spring. When crops were being prepared for the ground and the world started to breathe again.

I could smell the rain and the earth and the fresh grass now.

The court before me danced in jubilant frolics as if the faeries from our stories had caught them in one of their rings. Would they dance all night if we never stopped them?

Light scattered from the glimmering chandeliers dripping down from the ceiling. Fresh cut flowers of every color from our greenhouse were placed in vases on tables, in garlands hanging from the grand windows, in wall mounts, and on pedestals, and scattered about the marble floor—a meadow for the royal court to dance on.

Even with a long table filled with fragrant meats, steaming vegetables, and ewers of thick red wine, nothing could overpower the floral scents dominating the room.

Standing there, admiring the celebration, my mother and father sat on their respective twin thrones. I had my own extravagant-looking seat down and against the wall, but the best view was right here.

My mother's usual sour expression was etched on her face. I was starting to think the only thing that would make her happy was to see me married off and finally out of her castle. Not because she didn't love me, but the longer I went unwed as a perfectly eligible princess was an infraction against her success in training me.

Even though I was practically bouncing out of my satin slippers, I wasn't interested in dancing. It required a partner. There usually wasn’t anyone brave enough to ask me anyway. They all knew I would leave the dance as I entered it—uninterested in allowing them to court me any further.

As I watched our dancers, the glee that had overtaken me vanished when the Prince of our neighboring territory suddenly appeared at my feet—his curly black hair lying nicely against his head, for once.

His brown eyes were so dark they were almost black, but they were lit up with mischief as he looked up at me, as they always were. Behind him strolled his parents, a graceful King and Queen of their own land. Our families were old friends, as much as they could be as powerful leaders of different kingdoms. His two younger sisters must have been left behind as they weren’t trailing behind the small court before us.

"Your Majesties," said King Doren as all three bowed. Such cordialness for the watchful audience behind them. I almost laughed, knowing how comfortable they truly were with each other when alone.

My mother's face had abandoned its discontent at the site of her old friend, glowing in a way I imagined mine had been before I saw Prince Ronan.

Rising from her bow, Queen Celeste said, "Thank you so much for inviting us to your celebration. We so look forward to it every year."

Then, her eyes did the strangest thing. They left my parents for the briefest moment to settle on me before returning to my mother's. It was so fast that if I hadn't been looking at her just then, I would have missed it.

Looking at my mother, I noticed she was not looking at Queen Celeste anymore, nor at King Doran, but at Prince Ronan.

Oh God.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no.

To my absolute horror, she gave him a small nod. It was a simple gesture with only one meaning—"Go ahead."

Oh, please, please, please do not go ahead.

I looked at Ronan, trying to convey that message, but he seemed to only enjoy that I would detest what was about to follow. Like he had been waiting his entire life for this exact moment.

I could have stamped my foot and pouted like a child—right there, in front of every keen-eyed guest.

But ignoring all of that, brushing aside all those words my eyes spoke because I didn't dare let them leave my mouth in front of my mother, Ronan stepped up to the bottom step of the dais, held out his white-gloved hand, and said the most horrible words I had ever heard him utter out of all the abominable things he has said, "May I have this dance, Princess Katerina."

The way he said my name. It was how I imagined a lover would say it, and I despised it coming from his lips. Princess. It was all horrendous.

I looked down at my mother, the same look in my eyes that I had given Ro, but far more desperate. But her treacherous mouth only smiled further, and she gave me the same encouraging nod, except this one was far more insistent. His had been encouraging. Mine said, "Accept that man's hand, or you will rue this moment, young lady." My father's eyes were soft, as always, but told me she would indeed ensure I regretted it.

Sighing, I turned back to Prince Ronan with my most pleasantest, most factitious smile and said, "I would be honored, Prince Ronan," while accepting his hand.

Between both our gloves, I could feel the heat radiating from him as he led me down the steps and to the dance floor. Pulling me into the waltz the chamber orchestra had just begun, Ronan towered over me by at least a head. He gazed down at me, black eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming. Then, he said, "Katerina," (his voice was undeniably deeper than the last time I'd heard it), "You look absolutely infuriated to be dancing with me right now."

I snorted, having expected a compliment by the way he said my name. And by the way he had been looking at me—still looking at me even though he surely chose to change the last half of that sentence. I could feel it in how he pulled me back in after the dance demanded space between us, too.

I was not interested in hedging around this subject, whatever this was.

Looking up at him, I said, "Ro, we've known each other and detested each other for far too long for these sorts of games. What was that?" I flicked my head toward the dais where our mothers watched us with stars in their eyes. "What is this? What are you doing?"

Ronan hesitated. He opened his mouth but couldn't seem to get the words out. Maybe he wasn't sure what the right words were.

"Our parents seem to think that it's time we were... matched." His words were cautious—like he was speaking to a wild animal finally being cornered by its hunters.

Suddenly, it felt like my mind, soul, and body were all separate things.

It's not that I truly hated Ronan. In a strange way, we were friends. Strange because we always fought, but I was never really angry with him. He poked fun at me, and I could never hold my tongue, which only urged him on. And I knew this, but it was like a reflex. Like breathing.

But he knew how I felt about arranged marriages and that I would never allow it.

"Ro," I started to say just as slowly, but it wasn't because I felt I needed to be cautious with him. I was simply as caught off guard as someone could possibly be. "I don't understand. I couldn't—"

"Marry me, Katerina." The words weren't a question, but they weren't a command either. They were like a prayer whispered in the wind, hoping they would be heard. Accepted.

And out of everything I had expected him to say, "Marry me," wasn't one of them. Between all of the arguments and the bickering and the relentless teasing, I had always assumed he wanted to marry me as much as I did him. Which was not at all.

But even after all of the horrible things we had said and done to one another, I couldn't find it in me to be cruel now. "Ronan," my voice was soft. "I can't marry you."

I think the first genuine smile he's ever given me graced his mouth, his dark eyes turning the warm darkness of a sunless winter evening. It was as though he had expected my answer—no—but chose to ask anyway.

"Why?" was all he said back. No begging nor pleading nor groveling.

"I—I don't know." Thinking about it then, I really didn't know my answer. It was a question I never thought he would ask, so I never had one prepared. I had proper declines ready for every potential suitor I knew, yet Ro managed to surprise me. Which really shouldn’t have been surprising at all. If anyone could catch me off my guard, it was him.

As we continued to twirl and step to a dance I'd practiced a thousand times, I thought about it further. The music turned to a melancholy whine, nearly drowning out the sounds of talking and dancing from rest of the courtiers I was no longer aware of. Together, we kept up our dance, like everyone else was gone. I could almost see it, like my soul was up high, looking down at the scene from one of the shimmering chandeliers. Could see how Ro looked at me, waiting—and me, thinking.

The dancing followed the shift in the music, and Ro was now standing behind me, still pulling me along in a way I never really thought he was capable of. I had seen him dance with other ladies, but for some reason, I assumed they did all of the leading. That made me laugh.

"And now you laugh at me," Ronan sighed.

"No, I am sorry, I am not laughing at you." My head rested against his shoulder, just under his chin. The soft fabric of his dress robes rubbed against the part of my back that exposed my skin as we swayed. "I just never realized you danced so well."

We spun, and I was facing him again. Looking around us, he said, "You'd be surprised by what I'm capable of when the situation suits me."

"Such as?"

"Perhaps dancing. Wooing. Spoiling. If I find that one truly appreciates my efforts." The mischief had returned as he looked back down at me, discretely working to figure out what I was thinking.

Silence fell between us for a couple more moments, and I took that time to find my conclusion. I thought about why we were being matched. I thought about how much I hated it. Then I wondered what it would be like if I didn't hate it. I considered what it might be like if I relished in his attention and love and affection, whatever that actually looked like.

Nearing the end of this second dance, I said, "I can't marry you, Ronan, because I don't know you in that way."

"Would you like to?"

My mouth hung open briefly, and I didnt have the slightest idea what would come out of it. Then slowly, I said, "Perhaps. But why?"

He looked away again. Up at his parents, around the ballroom, the people dancing around us, the flowers, and the musicians before looking at me again. Something akin to terror was in his eyes, but he sustained a confident disposition anyway as he said, "Because I have always wished to know you in such a way."

"Then why do you always tease me so?" I blurted it before I had a chance to let his words settle. But settle they did, straight through my chest and into my stomach, and their weight spread like wildfire across the rest of me. I knew I was blushing. I was as sure of it as I was that this dress was the most beautiful that I owned.

He let out a breathy laugh. "Because I love being the only person who can send that pristine wall of perfect politeness tumbling down. You say what you think and feel without first having to consider if they are the right words or if words are even required. And that is the way I prefer you, Katerina."

I blinked at him, brows furrowing.

The music stopped, and he moved us off the dance floor as another dance began in our wake.

Before we returned to the dais to our awaiting parents, he whispered, "At least let me court you. If you still despise me, I will relent and stop our parents' every attempt to push us together again, I swear it."

Standing below the throne again, I chewed over his proposal. His new proposal.

"I will think about it." Refusing to let my mother see that she won, I wouldn't give an outright "yes." But I knew Prince Ronan heard my words for what they were. It was confirmed by the look that settled across his face and gleamed in his eyes.

Before parting ways, he said, “Did I forget to mention how radiant you make that dress look?”

So, that must have been a small taste of his wooing. I did not hate it. I suppose there was no one better to check the boxes of a particular princess than a prince.

Then he gave me a cordial nod, playing along with my game before returning to his parents's sides as I did mine, bouncing with a new kind of anticipation.