Dancing On Ice

Eyes on Me

Aeralie stared around the room, hands on her knees; fingers balled up in the dress she wore, eyes wider then the eyes of a giant squid.

She was in a bedroom, sat on a gigantic bed that was topped with so many blankets she sank into them. Behind her, across the room was a balcony with sweeping double glass doors. There were armchairs, tables, dressing tables, a fireplace with a real fire, a rug, two chandeliers, doors to a dressing room, doors to a ridiculously large bathroom and doors that led out of the room.

As she looked at each item, the words came to her as easily as if she were thinking her own language, their meaning attached. She knew their purpose and how to use them in a sentence – and that much of it had a similar counterpart back home.

The thought that all this knowledge came because her aunt had thought to give her the power of understanding was chilling. What if she hadn't done that? Yes, she might have been able to guess the function – of something's at least – but not the words. She wouldn't know what anyone was saying to her.

And they sure said a lot.

Women had been bustling in and out since she'd woken up. Cooing over her, stroking her head, patting her hand, dumping her into a bath, bubbling her hair up with strange lotions, stuffing her into the loose dress she wore now and bundling her back into bed.

Men had come in once she was in bed again.

A man who felt her forehead and stuck some sort of stick in her mouth, held fingers to her wrist while watching his watch then speaking quietly to one of the women.

Other men had come in to speak to the women, glancing at her but not addressing her.

She found it all... odd.

Mainly that these people would touch her or not address her. She was royalty. They should have at least bowed.

She looked down at her hands.

Though, they didn't know that did they?

She shivered and looked back to the head of the bed with its mountain of pillows.

How frightening, to not be known for who she was and thus losing the power that came with it.

A knock at the door made her look up as one of the women walked in.

"Dear, you have a visitor," she said, her smile bright in her round face, "Let's get you standing, shall we. You'll need to curtsy."

"No need for that," a male voice announced, right before the doors were thrown open.

If Aeralie had been standing, she would have collapsed.

Her heart soared into her throat and starting pounding, her stomach flipped over and over and she had to clamp her hands together to stop the from shaking.

Prince Dalton walked in; looking so handsome Aeralie could feel heat burning her cheeks. She hadn't seen him so close since they had been children and this time he was looking at her. Really looking at her and seeing her.

He wasn't dazed and half-drowned.

He was focused, blue eyes dazzling as he saw her.

Rather than her curtsying, he bowed.

"I'm glad to see you're looking so well after such an ordeal," he said, straightening up. He shot a look at the woman. "Can the lady understand us?"

"I believe so, just in shock, understandably," the woman replied.

"Understandably," Dalton agreed then looked back at Aeralie. "You can understand me, yes?"

She nodded and he gave her a smile that made her want to squeal.