Chapter 2

    The girl swayed her hips to the music, twirling around with an older woman, perhaps her mother, and then an older man who was perhaps her father. 

Young waited for the pink swirl of a girl to dance alone so he could approach her.  

Nobody seemed to recognize him as royalty. He basked in the invisibility.

 He was slowly shimmying on his feet toward her, then caught off-guard when she stopped and faced him. She gasped and let out a chuckle and swiftly turned around to the bustling crowd. Young swallowed and kept his dancing casual, and began to dance right next to her. 

   “You dance wonderfully!” He tried, almost yelling over the orchestra, attempting the friendliest smile he could think of. Squint more than usual during the smile. Show your teeth for a few seconds, then close your mouth. He anticipated her response. 

She turned to look at him.

   The blueness of her eyes caught his gaze. He was bouncing his knees awkwardly in place and couldn’t look away from her beautifully intricate pale face. 

  “Oh, ah- T-thank you!” She stuttered. She cast her eyes down to his maroon leather shoes, tapping to a soft beat as distant violins sped up. “You do quite wonderfully yourself.” She gestured to his awkward shuffle by copying it, tapping her feet, then swaying in place. Young laughs nervously and they quietly cheer each other on with the little dance moves, until the slow music starts. 

  “Would you…like to dance with me?” He asked timidly, standing in await. He held one hand behind his back and extended the other in front of him for her to take. The girl tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

  “I would love to.” She smiled with her lightly rouged lips and twirled her skirt dramatically. 

Young gingerly entwined his hand in hers, and kept his fingers held close together when he laid his other hand on her waist. The material of her dress was a rough slippery texture, like bunched up silk and wrinkled velvet. It was lovely to touch.

    A harp was heard leading the music, then low cellos joined in and soft muted trumpets harmonized. The couple swayed back and forth, side to side, round and round in loops on the white dance floor.

   They became lost in each other’s eyes. They just looked at one at another, taking in their appearances. 

Young had deep irises. They glowered like dimming jade under its browning sky. In the light there were flicks of hazel-green, but it was otherwise dark brown. From afar they were black. With music they were a magical sight to behold.

His tan skin had scattered brown dots on his face and the sides of his neck. There was a noticeable one under his eye. The girl found it cute. Just like his dark brown hair, which had a little edge of gold to it.

The girl’s hair was also dark brown, but with more red sheen within it. It rested twisted in a neat little bun up on her head. Her snow-white complexion bared a few small, faint freckles over her nose bridge and cheeks. Her brows were narrow and arched in a way that made her eyes appear large. Her irises glowed heavenly, rushing in cold winds bringing white clouds against the light blue sky. She had a thin body, one that looked like the wind could carry it away. Young was short for his age, and she was even shorter. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” The pink dressed-girl whispered when their faces had migrated closer.

  “Of course,” Young spun her around once, and they continued swinging to the song.

“I’ve never danced before. Not like this.” Young lowered his eyebrows playfully and opened his mouth to speak.

   “I would never have guessed that; you do it so well.”

“Well the thing is…you make it easy, and simple. You dance with me and it’s like we were planning it. I just really enjoy this.” His eyes dropped shut for a moment before gazing at her again. 

 “What’s your name?” He asked.

The girl took a deep breath. “My goodness, oh how we’ve gotten this far and still don’t know each other’s name yet!” Her eyes popped in a laugh and returned to normal within seconds. She swooped her hand from his shoulder up to behind his neck, almost petting his hair. “I am Rashelda.” She pulled her other hand, still holding his, close to her heart. “And what is your name? Fine sir?”

   Young could feel his cheeks grow warm. He smiled happily and kissed their entwined knuckles once. “Technically my first name is Benjamis, but everyone calls me Young.” He explained, scoffing at it. “You may call me whichever you like.”

The music plundered on.

 His head slowly leaned down an inch. Rashelda lifted her chin and whispered in his ear, “I think I like Young.” And she tightened her grasp on the back of his neck, cocking her head to the side. Young stared real closely at her, and they got lost in each other’s eyes again. Their eyes drooped closed and they shared a brief kiss. His hand left her waist and traced her jaw with one warm touch. Her hand rested on his neck and slipped under his collar.

      When he pulled back he was biting his lip. He smiled. Rashelda’ s eyes stayed closed a moment longer, and when she opened them they were already locked on his.

Then he felt a twist of metal as her fingers wrapped around his chain. She had the medallion where it was right under his shirt.

  “I should have known you were the little prince.” She had a smile on her face, but he couldn’t determine if it was a loving one or not. He worried what she would think of him, perhaps for not telling her from the beginning.

   Suddenly the panicked part of himself thought that he was better than her, and he didn’t need her to even like him. I’m royal, he thought, at first. I don’t need her.

 But then he remembered what he wanted most in life: to treat everyone like they matter…because they do. He didn’t get why royals should be respected more than townspeople. They act practically the same.

    “Is that a bad thing?” Young said finally, quietly. 

Rashelda scowled. Looked away. “Not exactly.”

He assumed the same thought was weighing on both of their minds. Rashelda continued, “I simply…don’t see how this could work. Between us, I mean. My father is very protective over me, and he’s a farmer who’s got a gun. But your father is the king. Do you see where I’m going with this?” Young nodded solemnly, considering her words.

   “They’re fathers. Most people have one of those. I know mine likely doesn’t want me to marry someone like you, not because you’re not a good person, but because you’re not royal.” He said this with a plain face, looking all around the room and then back at his dance partner. He thought he started to see sadness in her eyes. He felt similarly. “And I hate it.” 

 Rashelda smiled and rolled her bright eyes. He continued, “A lot of you commonfolk are smart people. You have lots of skills and you are all very kind. I admire your people. I mean I guess I am a part of the people but I’m…also not, you know?” He took a slow breath, realizing he’d started rambling.

“Sure, I get it. Do you really admire people like me?” 

He nodded gently. “Yes. And I admire you.” He placed both his hands on hers, and he held the four of them up and walked closer for an embrace. 

   “Shall we talk again soon?”

Rashelda sighed happily. “Yes, but how?” 

Young said almost as soon as she finished speaking, “We’ll meet up. At the river.” 

 Now it was her turn to nod. “Tomorrow day.”

 “Before the clock strikes 12.”

 Then the music seized and people rushed around, and they were separated, waving to each other in the sea of folk until they ran into their families.