Lucia hesitated for a moment before wrapping her knuckles on the door.
"Who is it?" a feminine and annoyed voice called out from the other side.
"It's me," Lucia replied and then put her hand on the knob.
"May I come in?"
There was silence on the other side and Lucia fought the urge to abandon manners and just walk in. She decided her conversation with her sister would not end well if it started on a tenser note than necessary. She did not open the door. She waited for a moment.
"Dela?" she asked when the silence stretched.
What if she doesn't let me in? Lucia wondered. Would I have to break in?
"Come in," Adela finally said and Lucia sighed in relief.
She turned the knob and stepped into the room. Adela was sitting by her desk her laptop on and on the home screen. She only turned her head and looked at her younger sister.
"What do you want, Lucia?" she asked.
"May I sit?" Lucia asked waving at the bed.
Adela rotated her chair so that she was facing Lucia who was standing awkwardly by the bed. Good. Neither of them was comfortable. She said nothing and just regarded her sister who seemed to harden with every second that ticked by.
"You may sit," Adela said just as Lucia opened her mouth to say something.
Lucia slowly lowered herself on the bed.
"I wanted to talk to you before I left," she put everything in keeping her voice firm and strong.
Adela just raised an eyebrow at her. There was a mocking glint in her eyes.
Just how much did Adela hate her? How much did Adela put a man over their sisterhood?
"Do you still blame me for what happened three years ago?" She asked her sister slowly.
Adela grinned. There was something eerie about the gesture. Maybe it was caused by the lack of humour in her eyes. It was just a stretching and separating of lips and a show of teeth.
"Do I still hate you?" she asked, "How could I hate you?"
Lucia would have taken the words as forgiveness had there not been the mockery and sarcasm in her sister's voice.
"I was a child," Lucia told her sister with exasperation, "I did nothing to you!"
Adela laughed mirthlessly.
"You were a child?!" She choked out between giggles, "You were sixteen!"
"I had no intention to hurt you that night!"
"Really?!" Adela scorned, "Oh maybe I'm too old to recall what happened clearly. Remind me, oh young one!"
At that moment, Lucia realised things were getting out of hand.
"Adela, please," she begged.
Just as she had begged that night and every day for days after that night.
"No, no," Adela waved a hand at her younger sister, "I want to hear how you did not hurt me. How you did not humiliate me."
Lucia could see the hate in her sister's eyes. She could see the memories fill her eyes. Memories filled her mind. That magical and yet worst night of her life. She opened her mouth and began to tell her sister what she recalled of that night.
***
It was good that the events of that night were so clear in her mind. She could almost feel how her first post-fifteen gown had looked on her. As soon as she had walked into the ballroom, Prince Alexander had come to greet them and his older brother was behind him. The girls had curtseyed at Prince Alexander and he had made polite conversation with all three of them.
Lucia remembered looking up and realising Prince Michael was upon them. He greeted Adela, then Caroline and finally, he flashed a smile at her as he greeted her. She knew why he was smiling. He had won a bet and she owed him a favour.
She resisted making a face at him wishing she had thought to pretend to lose the diamond pin in her hair. He had joked that if he sent it to her on her birthday their parents would get them married. She had said he was too old. She remembered his look of shock and how she had laughed at him. He had told her he was quite an eligible young man and she had continued snickering. She never thought about it again. Not until her birthday when her parents had hosted her birthday party and the princes had come to the celebration.
He had said with a mischievous smile that her mother would make her wear his gift to the next ball to attract his attention. Lucia had been appalled. Her mother would never. The prince was meant for Adela. She had been naïve. He had been correct. She thought that she had seen her mother her worst.
And on that ball, when she had needed a break from the people who either wanted a piece of her because of her father's riches or treated her like dirt because of the stain on her father's name; she was hidden in the shadows of the balcony.
She remembered how cold and dry the air had been. She remembered how the low music had been and how the chatter of people inside had drifted to her. She had been overwhelmed. Sixteen. She could now wear her hair in the semi-updo that all eligible young women wore, apply obvious makeup to her face, or put flashy pins in it.
Before this ball, people had ignored her because of her loose unadorned hair or the lack of flashy jewellery. However, now that she had turned sixteen, her mother had dolled her up. She'd gotten the full treatment. She'd had a diamond-studded choker necklace around her neck, The darned pin had been in her hair, brilliant in the lights. A beacon for ever ambitious young man.
She remembered how she had felt him join her on the balcony. He had not made her sound. The stirring, of the air, the way her heart knew to pick up its pace and of course the smell of his cologne. It was something she'd given him on his previous birthday. It had a combination of pine, old leather and old parchment.
"You should not have agreed to that bet," Prince had said and she'd opened her eyes and peered at him.
The light filtering into the balcony had shown his broad shoulders and his jawline. The darkness had swallowed that as he moved into the shadows. She could feel him regarding her.
"I do not disagree with you," Lucia remembered replying drily.
This calmness had been at odds with the storm brewing within her. She had felt pleasure and guilt for that pleasure.
"I am here to collect on that favour," he'd told her after a short pause.
"What do you need?" Lucia had asked with resignation.
She was surprised when he took her hand and began pulling her inside.
"You'll see," he'd told her as he pulled her past the gathering crowd.
She could have done nothing about how her heart had raced. She couldn't have done anything about the way her palm had tingled where it'd touched his. She'd been powerless to the adoration she'd felt for him.
A part of her had loved him. A part of her had romanticised every interaction she had with him. Another part of her had felt shame. She had been just a friend to him. Her sister had loved him. She had loved him too. But by loving him, living for their interactions, fantasising about him, she had felt like she was betraying him and Adela. Yet at that moment, she had not cared. Maybe she should have. But she had given herself to these little moments.
It had been too late to protest when she realised that Prince Michael had pulled her to a clearing in the centre of the ballroom. She had been unable to do anything but comply when he had manoeuvred her into a dancing position.
She had felt like this was a dream. How could she be in his arms? Prince Michael never danced. The opening dance was reserved for the woman he was courting and he'd avoided those. Yet here he'd been holding her in his arms and moving with her to the sway of the music. She had been in a dream. She had thought nothing could wake her up. How wrong she had been.
She remembered how he had lowered his face close to hers. She was grateful she had not lifted her head for the kiss she'd thought was coming.
"Thank you," he'd whispered so low it was only a breath, "You're a good friend."
Those words had done better than a bucket of cold water would have ever. They had woken her up and gotten her out of her trace. She was just a friend to him. And even if he wanted more, would she risk hurting Adela? She wished that horrible night had ended there but it had not. Adela and her mother had made it worse for her.