"Ahh, could I not decline the king?" she sighed.
Madeline averted her gaze to the door; soon or later the castle maids would come and say the king sought her. She must not go; she should not go to the ball. There had to be a way to decline. She must face the king and tell him she did not feel well. Yes, it was better that way— the king cannot detect lies, so he would not.
As Madeline stepped out of the room, her eyes wandered towards where it would lead to the king's quarters, where the corridor was dark just like his room.
"What kind of man is he? How could he have such coldness in him?" she snorted, shaking her head.
"What man do you speak of, Demoiselle?"
Madeline blinked as she heard the voice behind her. Slowly, she turned and was greeted by the angelic horseman.
The minute their eyes met, a warmest spread through her, and her mind relaxes. "Oh Mister, good to see you again," her face from a smile turned into a blush, one that made her completely red.
"Sebastian," he extended his hand, returning the smile. If there was a soft mattress on the ground, Madeline would have fainted and laid on it. He should not smile because it was making her breathless.
"Uh, I'm... Madeline," she courtesied.
"Madeline," he drawled her name, a playful grin appeared. Then his eyes travelled all over her. "It seems the king has you all dressed up," he leaned forward and whispered, "Take it as his way of saying sorry for the other day."
Madeline's mouth hung open. Sorry? That hard stone said sorry? It had to be impossible for the man she saw was like a well-carved stone, one who despite being so handsome was a hard rock, one without any soul.
Madeline looked around her then leaned forward to him. "Did he really do this to apologize?" No matter how she thought of it, she could not think of the king being nice; even his voice was cold.
"Of course," Sebastian said. He tilted his head when he saw the uncertainty on her face. "You don't believe me?"
"No, I... Of course I do," she gave him a nervous smile. Okay, enough about the king with his cold eyes. What she was interested in was the person in front of her. She had never seen anyone this handsome, this angelic. Ah, she was losing her mind. She was not the type interested in men, nor has any man ever made her toes curl.
"The royal ball would start soon. Will you, my lady, let me lead the way?" he smiled, his hand still extended. Carefully, Madeline placed her hand on his. She felt her body jolt the moment she touched him.
"Mister, who are you? Are you truly the king's horseman?" The words slipped out before she could have stopped it.
Sebastian led the way through the lit corridor. The path he was leading her to luckily wasn't the way to the dark corridor. A smile creased his face.
"You could say I'm a royal guard."
"A guard?" she blinked, looking him over at his well-tailored suit and pants. He did not look like a guard at all.
"Mm, the king's guard," Sebastian grinned. Then he clasped his hand on hers. "The king can appear to be cold but really, he isn't as he seems. And funny enough, he isn't so hard a wall that can't crack."
Madeline shook her head, refusing to agree with him. "I do not think so, ahh," she halted, causing Sebastian to stop as well.
"Why do I have to attend a royal ball?"
"All the king's guests are meant to. Do you not want to taste the fine wine and food made from the royal kitchen?" he raised a brow.
"Of course, the king is treating me nicely. It would be rude to decline," she bit her lip and looked away.
Sebastian smiled then leaned forward and patted her forehead where a thin line formed. "Do not fear, Madeline. I will be here with you."
Madeline sucked in a long breath; this closeness was making her head spin.
"Yes, miste—"
"Sebastian," he reminded, then smiled and squeezed her hand as they headed towards the ballroom.
........
Fancy dresses, royal wines and foods, the soft music being played, the chandelier with colorful light hung above— all of this made her stand in awe, gazing at them.
Sebastian had gone over to greet some persons of high status, so she was left standing in a corner, observing the mannerisms of wealthy people. It was a sight to behold, as this might probably be her last ball attended.
Madeline spotted a table where varieties of food and drinks were kept. Since she arrived, she had noticed men and women holding plates and taking all they could from the table. She licked her lip, thinking that at least if she could not dance or act polished, she could make use of a plate and fork.
Madeline scanned the area to make sure no one had their eyes on her, then she walked slowly towards the table and took out an empty plate and a fork. "Cake would do," she told herself, even though her throat yearned for the other foods placed there.
Madeline stood there, darting her eyes from one food to the other. Would it be a crime if she could just have it all? These people are wealthy and have plenty to eat; they would not be worried, right? "Cake will not do, maybe pasta and chicken on my plate will lessen the hunger." She shifted towards spiced roasted chicken.
"Would you, my lady, have this dance?"
Madeline paused. It seemed as though the world around her had also halted when she heard the cold voice behind her. The voice was right behind her, for she could feel his shadow looming over her.
Whatever slow music had been playing had also come to a stop, and it seemed everyone had stopped moving, holding their breath for what was to come.
Madeline, still holding the plate and fork, turned slowly until she met his cold eyes, piercing into her. There he stood, wearing a well-tailored suit with a white cravat, his hair combed back revealing his well-sculpted jawline, his cold dark eyes staring right into hers.