Rejected

Chapter 23

Damian watched the world blur over in a flash. The colourful people around him blended into nothingness as he watched the girl in the black dress leave him standing all alone on the dance floor.

Damian blankly noticed a figure step forward in his peripheral vision, "Damian..."

"Shut up," His hissed and closed his eyes feeling the defeat course through his tense body. His roughly pressed his fingers onto his forehead trying to not erupt like a fiery volcano. The throbbing in his ears was making him lightheaded.

"Listen to me," Bea pleaded.

"I said Shut UP!" Damian roared ferociously making a few people gasp and step back frantically. He had flung the thing closest to his hand viciously on the ground; his crown. It rolled away and finally settled on some courtier's feet.

"I won't stand to have you speak to my wife in this fashion," Beatrix's husband spoke up placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. Damian had already forgotten his name so his words bore no consequence to him.

"Then tell your wife to stop meddling," Damian glared at her, ignoring the insignificant husband completely, and she took a step back even though her face revealed no fear for his temper. Instead her eyes narrowed and he knew her mind was swiftly trying to find a solution to this unexpected situation. But even with all the cleverness in the world he knew there was no solution. She had rejected him.

"Jerald," Damian whispered harshly to his personal servant. When the man hesitated, for the first time in his life showing any expression, Damian's tone grew louder, "Jerald!"

"Your Highness," Jerald bowed, his wide eyes judging Damian as if he were an alien being.

"Tell these good people that the party has just begun. The food will be served shortly and the musicians will resume their show. I however must excuse myself, unfortunately," Damian explained bitterly even though his audience was already raptly listening to every word emitting form his mouth. He knew, but he did not care to look into the eyes of the world with a dignified countenance. He was suffocating and he needed to leave now.

As soon as Damian made to march out of the room Bea called out to him once again.

"Please," Damian nearly pleaded as he turned back and finally Bea understood his need for privacy. She nodded and stepped back.

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The large horse-drawn carriage clipped clopped away through the night. The brick road was never smooth but even amongst the bumps sleep was usually easy to find. Tonight the moon drew in the attention of both the passengers who were quietly immersed in their own thoughts.

"You should have said something," Cecilia finally spoke, breaking the silence that surrounded her throughout their packing. Cecilia didn't even have it in her heart to convince Delilah to stay at the castle. Instead she had helped her cousin in the preparations that would allow them to depart immediately. Their larger trunks containing their clothes were already packed but their smaller belongings had been strewn all over the room. Jewellery, makeup and other bits and bobs were stuffed into smaller, leather skin trunks by the two girls and once the trunks were shut Cecilia had asked the doorman to inform the stables of their departure.

The whole process had been done in silence. Cecilia could not find any words that suited the fragile moments with her cousin.

"What purpose would it have served? This is history that has been dead and buried eons ago," Delilah whispered softly.

"It is neither dead nor buried if it still manages to affect you so," Cecilia buried her head into her cousin's shoulders. They were alone in the compartment because the driver's seat was outside in the front. Out of the two men sitting outside one was the Royal driver assigned to drive guests without their own carriages back home and the other a footman to assist with the luggage and horses.