The Winter Sun

Chapter 12

Amaya had nowhere to go. The Prince was heading towards her in full strides like an unstoppable boulder rolling down a hill. She kept every piece of herself wanting to flee away and prepare herself for the promise of another excruciating interaction.

The boulder hit, and it wasn't as shattering as she thought it would be at least at first glance. Broad shoulders, robust arms, and legs topped by the features of ancient god statue all dipped in magnificent copper, sun-loved skin tone. The Princess blinked, making sense of what she saw and felt.

His mouth stretched, and it was like the moon had revealed itself. That luxurious smile of his was probably one of the reasons the continent was head over heels for that man. But his foxy eyes were probably another one. Amaya was pulled into a deep pool of gold and copper, so infatuated with each other they made one inside his irises.

Her mouth opened softly.

"Princess Amaya." An amusing glint passed through his eyes, much aware of the effect he had on people, and Amaya wanted to turn away, not giving the satisfaction of seeing her that way, but his voice was as pulling as the rest of him. So deep, rich, and soothing that she would let it lull her. "I am delighted to meet you finally." A sturdy hand grabbed her soft and precious as if she would shatter from his touch. The medals cluttering his crimson uniform attest that he could do so.

Her breath caught in her throat as his soft full lips caressed the back of her hand. A rush of blood ascended to her cheeks as she silently thanked the God Sun for the berry powder coloring them already vibrant.

His amber eyes burned through her the whole time.

Gasps and murmurs bounced from the crowd around them, and Amaya scraped her throat. "Prince Ezri."

He straightened up gracefully, wearing decorum like his uniform, and let go of her. "You know me."

Amaya lifted her chin. "I have heard a few words."

"I hope it was only pleasant ones," A false worry lingered in his voice, or maybe a sort of humbleness. Whatever it was, she wouldn't give the satisfaction of an affirmative statement.

The music shifted to a slow, dreamy tune that had made every dancer leisure their paces.

Ezri offered a palm up. "May I have this dance?"

A weight pushed against the Princess' chest as she stared at the palm. She hadn't danced with anyone all night, refusing to be part of this grotesque charade.

Eyes peered at them, betting on another rejection or the first success of the night as the room held its breath for the outcome. Even the music seemed to fade away.

She lifted her eyes to the throne, and the stare of her Father was still roaring, loud with expectations despite the distance.

A deep inhalation grounded her before accepting the invitation. A collective gasp echoed inside the room, and the music went full blast again. The Prince led his victory to the middle dance floor as people discarded, giving them their space and intimacy.

"The Princess finally found a partner to dance with." Lord Virwan's staff echoed as he stepped near the King, an attempt at a smile melting his crooked nose to the side.

"It seemed so." The King's features stretched with satisfaction. "Who is that?"

"The Prince of Mias."

"Oh," The King massaged his beard, pensive. "I see. So be it."

"It is quite the fine match for the Princess." The King nodded. "I told Your Highness. It was only a question before the Princess warmed to the situation."