Gisella felt her laughter rumble through her chest as she and Roseia danced their way across the room.
“Oh, god this is the most fun I’ve had in weeks!” Roseia laughed out as she dipped Gisella down and spun her around, “Who knew the servants knew how to party!”
And she was right. After a spectacular performance in front of the King at the main hall, the other working members of the castle ushered them all down to the servant’s quarters for a celebratory party for themselves.
“Woah, slow down there!” Gisella laughed. Roseia was gulping down pints of mead one after the other as she was being handed them from various members of the young men of the kitchen servants and scullery maids.
The leftover wine and food from the performance had made its way back to the kitchens and into the mouths and stomachs of the performers and even some of the servants of the castle who stayed to enjoy the party.
“You’re one to speak!” Roseia laughed out as she pointed a mug in Gisella’s direction, “You’ve had just about as much as I, if not more!”
Gisella found herself giggling in hysterics at her friend’s accusation. Roseia wasn’t far off with her assumption and Gisella knew it by the warmth she felt in her cheeks.
Her head felt light and airy as she walked out of the room which contained the loud laughter of the servants’ and her troupe in search of a cooler place to come down from her haze.
She followed the breeze of air that pushed its way forward and she remembered, although suddenly, the familiar face of the handsome stranger she had seen once in the market.
Her somewhat puzzled and unclear mind thought to the golden bands he had had on his wrist and to the same bands on the wrists of that awful, vile man who had cornered her in the kitchens.
She tried to make a connection between the two, but none came to mind. Even their auras felt different.
Where the man from the kitchen had incited nothing but fear and a flight response in her, prompting her to run and get far away from him as fast as possible, the man at the market made her feel safe. Well, safer than the other man yelling curses at her from his vending station did, any way.
Her head lolled to the side as she tried to search for him. She remembered now of her savior from the kitchen and how similar their voices had been. Could it be that it was the same person?
“Gisella?” A voice called out to her from the shadows.
“Hm?” Not knowing who it was exactly, Gisella only turned around at the call of her voice, “Who’s there?”
She tried to squint her eyes and focus them despite the sleep that was slowly creeping up on her.
A laugh rang out and she found herself smiling at the figure as it drew closer, “It’s Ivon.”
Ah. Dear Ivon. Gisella had grown fond of the middle aged man despite the short period she had been here. As he was the head chef and in charge of the entire goings on in the kitchen, she had confided in him about her strange encounter with the man her first night here.
Ivon had warned her against being caught alone with that man. Although he didn’t specify who it was exactly or why she should be cautious; when prompted he quickly refused to say anything.
“What are you doing out here so late?” Ivon asked as he walked towards her and helped to steady her on her feet. The two of them moved from the middle of the hall to one of the benches between the stone archway that overlooked a large garden.
“I…” Gisella furrowed her eyebrows, “I was at the party, but then I left, because… I was looking for a man, I think.”
Ivon laughed fondly at her, “Aren’t we all?” He teased.
It sounded strange to her when she said it out loud. “I don’t even know his name. But I think he saved my life twice now already.”
She threw her hands up in the air hopelessly, and they landed in her lap with a loud thud. She looked at Ivon with bleary eyes and then squinted at him sceptically.
“What are you doing out here so late?” Her tone was amusing to him, and he found himself laughing as he held up a crate of food before putting it next to them.
Gisella’s head lolled to the side as she followed his movements. “I was just cleaning up the last of the food from your performance show earlier this evening. You were spectacular, by the way.”
She laughed gleefully at the compliment and a hiccup escaped her. Ivon only shook his head and laughed before handing her a piece of bread and some water from the jug that was placed in the crate.
“Thank you,” she mumbled before guzzling it down and relished the absence of her surprisingly dry throat.
“Say Ivon,” She prompted the head chef which earned a hum of acknowledgement from him, “You live here right? I mean you’ve been around for a while. I’m looking for my handsome savior, and I don’t suppose you have any idea what the gold bands symbolise?”
When Ivon refused to answer her question she continued, “It’s just that that’s… basically all I know about him, and I saw the king wearing the same exact—“
“Pardon me, my lady, but I won’t speak on matters of the king.” Ivon said stiffly.
Gisella wasn’t sure whether it was from the bread and water or the way the atmosphere surrounding them had changed so suddenly, but she sobered up.
Before she could ask Ivon about it another voice joined their conversation, “They are the mark of royalty.”
Ivon and Gisella’s head shot to the side where a tall figure approached them. He was dressed in the colours of the royal house and there on his arms, neatly placed and glittering, were the golden bands she so desperately sought out.
It was the handsome stranger from the market.
Gisella’s head turned away from his curious eyes that stared at her to Ivon as he spoke out.
“If you will excuse me.” And with a bow of his head Ivon lifted up his crate and moved further into the castle where Gisella could still hear the clamouring of the party.
The two of them stood in silence for a short while. Gisella now faced with the new information that the man who had saved her twice now was royalty. He wasn’t the king, by any means, and judging by the golden bands—
“You’re the...” She breathed out as the realization finally set in.
“It would seem so,” There was a mischievous look on his face as the stranger moved to stand in front of her and she couldn’t deny it excited the adventurous side of her at this new discovery, “One of them, at least.”
“He seemed afraid of you.” The stranger inclined his head in her direction and looked back to where Ivon had fled them.
“Are you afraid of me?”
She felt challenged. Despite thinking that she should feel intimidated or uneasy the only thing Gisella felt for the man currently was… intrigue.
“Should I be?” She challenged back with a small smile.
“I do not make it a habit of telling ladies what they should be feeling,” the stranger told her, “despite how often they seem to be prone to discovering trouble.”
Her mouth fell open at the jab. “Excuse me, but I fail to see how in any way—“
“Though I suppose there could be worse ways to enter the city than handsome saviors at your service.” He mocked her description of him with a teasing smile.
Gisella’s face turned warm immediately. This time not because of the wine she had been drinking. Then her eyes widened when she looked away from him; was he teasing her?