As King Wilhelm and Princess Cordelia greeted their guests, it seemed that ice had blasted the room with a chill that would not lift. The cold, impenetrable masks of stony indifference would not be removed from the faces of the guests in Cordelia's home no matter how warmly she tried to engage them.
After the opening waltz which she had danced with her father, Cordelia stood stiffly near the door to the balcony, pondering if she should quietly slip away as it appeared that her guests would enjoy themselves much more in her absence.
Cordelia felt her resentment rise and tried to squash it before it could manifest into actual thoughts with words and meaning attached to it, but she couldn't help but compare this very auspicious and courtly ball to the quaint country dance that she'd secretly attended last year. For the most part, the peasants were so open and friendly and the dances were filled with laughter and high spirits. Cordelia knew that there were dangers and problems with that simple life that she would not be accustomed to dealing with, but at times she caught herself imagining life as a poor woman and envied the freedom of it. She shook her head. Each world had its shackles. She was just more versed in the bonds of royalty.
Cordelia slipped out onto the balcony and breathed in deeply. It seemed that despite her auspicious position very few wanted to dance with her which was odd, considering she would stand to inherit a kingdom, and her would-be husband would become king. Doubtless that was the only reason the few who had stood up with her had even bothered to ask. Cordelia leaned against the railing, closed her eyes, and sighed deeply.
"Do you often feel the need to escape, my lady?"
Cordelia squinted in his general direction, trying to figure out who was addressing her. "I find that I am unnecessary to the joy and felicity of the party, and since the removal of my company would not deter from their general happiness, I felt free to remove myself."
"You ought not disparage yourself so, my lady. You are a kind and gracious hostess despite the rather cold reception you received."
"I suppose it could not be helped, especially after my last debacle. I am certain my father wishes—well, I suppose it does no good to dwell on that…" She trailed off, unwilling to give voice to her melancholy thoughts.
The man stepped out of the shadows toward her, and she noted that it was Duke Heinrich's son, Garin, the Earl of Heinrich. His black hair was combed back away from his handsome face, and his warm, dark eyes, glinted and flickered in the torchlight.
"Princess Cordelia," he said as he walked closer, "Your escapades, as they might be called, are hardly worth this rather petty shunning by the nobility."
Cordelia tried to consider everything she knew about Lord Heinrich and his family, but he had always kept to himself which Cordelia was beginning to consider as a good thing as it made this conversation seem more genuine. She pushed herself away from the railing and started walking back toward the ballroom and almost passed him, but she hesitated and stopped as she came parallel with him. "My pursuits are an embarrassment to my father and to the kingdom, but I can hardly fathom why. I have only ever sought to help." She almost whispered, lowering her head in defeat as unbidden, tears began to crowd and prick at her eyes.
"My lady," Lord Heinrich said, turning to face her again and lifting her chin gently so that her eyes met his. "You are not an embarrassment but are someone who must be admired and emulated."
Cordelia searched his eyes trying to discern if he merely spoke flattering words from a naturally glib tongue or if she would find sincerity hiding in their depths. She sucked in a shuddering breath and tried to smile. "I thank you, Lord Heinrich."
"'Tis the truth," he shrugged and smiled down at her. "I wonder, my lady, if you would do me the honor of dancing with me."
"I thank you, yes."
Lord Heinrich offered her his arm and the two walked back into the ballroom, and for the first time, the dread Cordelia always felt when in the company of her peers was absent.
Lord Heinrich's example set a new tone in the ballroom, and for the rest of the night, Cordelia did not sit out another dance.