73rd Day of Blaze AOK 21
The ballroom was decked in extravagance. Hung with blue gauzes that ranged in colour from bright sky blue to a midnight ocean. All the glasses and silverware had been polished till they shone in the previous days. The Duchess was exacting, precise and her word commanded attention. Music filled the room and dances drifted in a lazy, circular waltz. She heard the rustle of skirts, could smell the bitterness of alcohol on the air, along with the strange dry scent of wax. Candles were hung from every available perch but with the early cool weather it was still cool enough to appreciate the warmth they generated.
She peered at the gathered assembly, watching as the most beautiful woman she’d even seen, was spun around the dancefloor. Elyna couldn’t take her eyes off the princess, tall and fair with striking features. Each step she took landed with precision. Her posture was beyond fault, and peering out from beneath the drinks table, Elyna couldn’t help but sigh with envy. Until a stranger lent down, grinning as he spotted her.
‘I don’t think you should be under there…miss?’ His voice was warm and melodic.
‘Bennett,’ Elyna replied.
The man frowned at that, offering a hand down beneath the table eves.
Cautious, she accepted and was helped to scramble to her feet and out from her hiding place.
‘What’s the matter?’ She asked, staring up at him.
‘It’s just that it’s my name too,’ he shook his head. With a glance towards the dancefloor he then turned back with a smile. ‘Will you dance with me?’
‘Always…’ her smile was automatic, as was her connection to the other Bennett. He was tall, dark and wickedly handsome. She had to lean back to look up at him. Elyna knew that she was older than she had been at the start of her dream and she stepped closer to the man. It was the scent of him that told her who he was.
‘Mal…’ she murmured and nuzzled in close, forgetting the rest of the room.
‘Ely?’ His hands dropped to her sides and his smiled warmed. He lent in, as though to kiss her until a hand landed gently on his arm. At which point he broke away as if scolded, staring at her in confusion before he turned to his beautiful wife.
‘If you’ll excuse my husband?’ Vanessa’s smile was hard as Malcolm took a bow and turned away. Leading the princess onto the dancefloor without a single look back.
Elyna tried to swallow the lump in her throat and found that she was choking on it. First love. Nothing could compare really, could it?
‘Of course not my dear,’ a familiar hand slid around her waist. Her heart shuddered and she looked up at Yvan. His hair was longer, beard untamed and his pale eyes carried a danger she had once found attractive.
She tried to step out of his embrace but he laughed, ‘I’m never far away my love.’ His voice whispered past her ear and jolted the woman awake.
Elyna sat up, panting as she stared into the unfamiliar room. Malcolm lay beside her and she reached out, gently touching her hand to his shoulder as she let out a slow, uneven breath. With the curtains pulled, the room remained dark and cool in the first touch of morning and Elyna slid carefully from the bed.
Dressed in a loose skirt and with her shirt tucked into the waistband, she moved back through the rooms. Tidying their discarded clothes from the night before. She took the time to light the small cooking fire and set water to boil. After the late night, she was sure that no one would expect her and Malcolm to be awake so early.
With tea brewing, she found herself a perch on a window seat. The wooden frame was warm beneath her frame as she peered out through the foliage at the gardens that lay between them and the main house.
Finally, Elyna moved to check the small bag that had been left for her, hanging by the door. Fresh clothes, some herbs that helped settled her stomach and a few personal items. Smiling, she pulled a notebook and pencil from the depths and returned to her window. Emily had definitely packed the bag.
She turned the pencil over in her hands. Contemplating the risk of her words. Finally, she drew a breath and set the words to page, balancing the book against her knees.
Dear Yvan,
I wonder sometimes if you might be proud of me.