Robin des Bois ✓

twenty-three. Unraveling Fairy Tale

The dinner was everything I expected it to be, and more.

Five long tables occupied all the space of the regal dining hall and people were settling in their reserved seats. I spotted Alexei with an empty seat next to him and I slipped into the chair. He acknowledged my presence with a small smile and his hand settling on my thigh.

Guilt twisted inside me like a coiling snake.

The menu for the supper was written in elegant cursive on a little card at each guests' place, accompanied by an elegant name-card, all curlicues and minimalistic design.

Mine sat next to Alexei and even that little detail –just the juxtaposition of his name right next to mine, reminding me of us – left me nauseous.

What the hell had I been thinking?

And that was precisely the problem, all of those traitorous thoughts that had been clouding my brain in the last half-hour.

And even now, even with the realization of just how wrong it all was, I couldn't help but sneak glances in Gabe's direction, feeling a tiny stab to my gut every time his date leaned into him to whisper conspiratorially into his ear. With each pang, my guilty nausea rose further and I tried to quiet it by downing flute after flute of champagne. No one asked for my age and all I had to do to get refills was to reach towards my empty glass –as soon as I did, one of the –servants? Butlers? – refilled it with sparkling, diluted gold that made its way directly from my tongue to my veins, filling me with a restless buzz.

I ate and tried to stay as quiet as possible, replying only when my silence would be perceived as rudeness.

I let go of my thoughts, overwhelmed by the taste of bitter champagne on my tongue mingling with veal, so tender that it almost didn't need chewing – a sharp contrast to the crunch of the asparagus, complemented by the fruity tang of pomegranate.

For each bite, I took a generous sip of either wine or champagne –but never water. I got through the tartare, the lacquered lobster tail bathed in black truffle sauce, lingered over the pan roasted filet mignon and could barely stomach the desert – a chocolate cake decorated with flakes of gold, so light that it melted right as it touched the tongue.

It was only when it was too late and I was positively drunk that I realized that getting wasted the day I met my boyfriend's parents for the first time was probably not the best idea.

I barely even noticed that most people had left the table when Alexei pulled me to my feet, guided me away from the grandiose dining hall and whisked me back upstairs. He led me down a maze of winding corridors and in my altered state of mind, I felt as though we were going in circles. I stumbled behind him, unsteady in my high heels, clenching his hand like a kid in a mall clinging to their parent.

He was saying something, but my thoughts were slow, sluggish. It took me a moment to register that he was very probably talking to me.

"... we've always done. While the grown-ups would carry on downstairs, we would just come up here and have fun on our own, without parental supervision." He gave me a wicked grin as we stopped in front of massive double doors. He pushed them open and stepped inside.

I should've been used to just how grand everything always was whenever Alexei was concerned, but the room he'd whisked me to managed to surpass my expectations still.

The light here was more muted, intimate. The half-paneled walls were covered in a crème corduroy wallpaper, the satin reflecting the soft glow of the massive chandelier that hung squarely in the middle of the room. A bar with a polished marble counter stood near the back of the room and people –young people, all around our age –lounged on rococo loveseats arranged in a half circle around a hearth. There was no fire lit within, but still there was a warmth about this room that hadn't been present in the cold beauty of the ballroom or the dining hall.