The dance hall was covered with dresses of all colour and occasional male figure, dressed in the usual black and white suit. In the middle, the figures aligned in two rows and with the twirling dresses, was defined the dance floor. On the top of the row of dancing people, the floor was slightly lifted from the ground and there sat the king in his giant throne.
The king was dressed in black-and-gold uniform. On his head rested minimalist decorated crown. King Rikkard was an elder man, in his fifties, and his face, usually ruthless and hungry, was now looking kind of tired.
Must be Evren's doing.
At the sight of him, my heart started racing. Not by nerves, as I was afraid it will, but by hatred, by pure hatred. The moment my eyes laid on him, my body started to run on determination.
Today, my king, I will repay you for all the bad things you have done and I will enjoy it. I promised myself, the plan of world-class embarrassment forming in my head. I will destroy your public image and your reputation, sadly without hurting you, but a girl can't have everything.
Step one of the plan: observe.
This kind of thing takes patience and I have to strike at the right moment, when the ball will be at its peak.
This, unfortunately is the longest step in the history of steps and I don't really have anything to do then wait. About an hour in, I have decided to get the step two in motion.
Step two: dance with noble men and get the attention of the king
During the first step I have secured myself a dance with several men and now was the time to honour my word.
"Excuse me, sire." I curtsied to the handsome army general who asked me for a dance around twenty minutes ago. "I was wondering if I could get that dance with you, now." The general Stronglock was an angry looking man in his thirties and if I ever so him out at night, I would run in the opposite direction as soon as possible. But, for today's purposes, he was one of the few with impressive enough rank.
He offered me a rapey smile, grabbed my hand and half dragged me to the dancefloor. There he put his hand a bit lower than necessary on my back and I couldn't be more thankful to the prince for choosing the puffiest dress there is.
You can imagine that the general wasn't the best dancer. He insisted on leading me across the dancefloor, stepping on my feet several times and making me twirl to hard.
After this torture was finally over, the next gentleman, a captain, asked me to dance with him. And I, eager of escaping Stronglock, happily accepted.
The captain was a shy man and we didn't talk much during our dances. Thankfully, this man knew his manners and kept his hands on respectful places.
A few partners later, I was only three pairs of dancers away from the throne and were it my incredible looks or the rumours about my dashing personality, I soon found myself in the arms of the king.
Which brings us to the step three: keep the king dancing with you and get him to agree to the step four (you, accompanying him as he addresses the guests).
"Your majesty," I curtsied as he found himself standing in front of me.
"I wish to dance with you," he half-drunkenly demanded. Normally, a man would ask you to dance with him with phrases that include 'may I' or 'would you give me the honour'. Not the king though. He demands a dance.
"It would be my honour," I said bowing my head and giving him my hand.
A few twirls in, the king spoke. Of course, given our social status differences, I was not allowed to speak to the king first.
"You quite mesmerized the gentlemen tonight, miss…"
"Miss Diana Dirdy, your majesty." I answered to his hanging sentence.
"Tell me, Diana. Are you enjoying yourself tonight?" The king sternly asked, obviously expecting compliments from my side.
"Immensely, sire. This is the best ball I have ever been to." And the only one, but who am I to point that out.
"Good." He replied satisfied, "We wouldn't want such a pretty dress to be wasted on some mediocre event, would we."
"Of course not, sire." I replied like a well-behaved and obedient sheep I am not.
"Daring choice of a colour, I must say. Not everyone allows themselves to stand out like you did tonight." He laughed drunkenly.
"Well, a little bird told me that our dear king likes the colour red best, so I have decided to try to meet your taste, sire." I batted my eyelashes at him and sold him a shy smile as I said this with a very soft voice.
Damn, was I a good actress. Able to act like a shy, innocent girl with fire burning inside of me and my brain screaming stab, stab, stab.
"I'm afraid I have to inform you that the bird was wrong. But honestly, what did you expect from an animal." He said, not sure to who. "I always say: never trust a woman and an animal, but honestly is there any difference?"
Stab! Stab! Stab!
"Anyway," he said, still chuckling to himself, probably only partly aware of the world around him. "it is not I who like the colour red best." He finally got to the point. "That would be my son, I am strangely fond of yellow, the colour of prostitutes." And then he burst out laughing and I joined him with small giggles, desperately trying not to overthink the connection between prince's taste in colours and the dress he chose for me.
After swallowing some more sexism, I have finally dared to ask the king the key question of the day.
"Your majesty," I started carefully, "I was wondering if I could, maybe…"
"Yes, spit it out." He ordered coldly, alcohol obviously disappearing from his organism.
"Well, it would be a great honour to stand behind you, while you address the guests." I said more confidently, doubting the king would appreciate insecure wishes.
"That, truly, would be a great honour." The king pointed out, "What makes you think you deserve it?"
"I don't, probably. But maybe the opportunity would give me the confidence to offer you something else, my flower maybe." I stated very carefully, wanting to die on the inside. I just offered the man I hate more than anything to take my imaginary maidenhood. What am I doing? The bare thought of this man touching me is making me nauseous, let alone the act of intimacy itself.
"Well, if that's what it took for you to ask me that, who am I to stand on your way." The king whispered in my ear, probably trying to sound seductive, while his hands encircled my body and squeezed it to his.
The shiver of disgust and hatred ran down my entire body and it took every ounce of self-control not to scowl and audibly gag.
But, at least the step four of the plan went through successfully. With only the step five, the actual embarrassment, and step six, the escape, remaining, I involuntarily relaxed in king's arms, giving him the wrong idea. Still pulling my body to his, the king now allowed himself to grab my ass and lick my neck.
His actions made me whimper with despair, something, he again interpreted inaccurately and started kissing my neck more fiercely, moving to my jaw and my mouth.
Just as he was about to reach my lips with his, we got interrupted.
"Father," the familiar voice said icily, "it's time for your speech." The prince was dressed in all black and looked absolutely majestic. The clothes hugged his body perfectly and accentuated his muscular figure.
"Next time," the king began sternly, "do not interrupt me when I'm surrounded with young beauty."
"Sorry, father." The prince said, not really sounding sorry, but bowing his head for the effect.
"Come, my dear," the king said to me, "let's get this over with so we will be finally able to focus on the fun part of the night." He caressed my cheek and winked at me before turning around and going back to the throne.
I hurried after him, avoiding any look prince might send my way and mentally preparing myself to risk my life, while swallowing the puke in my mouth.