A Vagabond's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 11 - "I should not keep his Highness waiting."

Gigi couldn't tear her eyes away from the Prince. He was a far cry from the man she had rescued, just as she was a far cry from the vagabond he would remember. A healthy color had returned to his clean-shaven, handsome face and he had regained the muscle he had lost.

Gigi was so absorbed in the difference, that she wasn't aware that everyone around her was lowering into bows and curtsies. The ballroom was filled with the swishing of gowns as women dipped low. All heads dropped in respect.

"Genevieve," her grandmother whispered, her name a quiet command.

Snapping herself from her astonishment, Gigi quickly sank into a deep curtsy.

"Lords and Ladies," the King said.

Everyone rose, his voice drawing them up and capturing their full attention. Gigi straightened but found she couldn't give the King all of her thoughts. Her eyes fell back on the Prince. Thayer surveyed the room with a calm demeanor, his emotions trapped behind an even mask.

"I welcome you," the King continued. "It brings me pleasure that you have traveled from all over to be here, with my family and me." He wore an open smile, the sight pleasing added with his smooth cadence. "We are honored by your presence and look forward to the enjoyment of the coming weeks." He waved his hand to the quartet. "May the festivities begin!"

The room filled with the raining patter of applause. Taking the Queen's hand, the King led her down the steps followed by the Prince. Gigi felt her gaze riveted to him, thinking back on the lame sailor who she helped feed. That image was a harsh contrast to the man moving down the stairs. He walked with a quiet confidence, secure in his title and his knowledge of how the world worked.

Before Gigi felt ready, the royal family was in front of them. The King's gaze met Lord Brixton's. The two men greeted each other as old friends. Gigi found she couldn't look at them, the knowledge of her secret producing a smile, she was having trouble fighting. She kept her eyes trained on the floor.

"Arthur," the King said, his bass voice softening with familiarity.

"Your grace," Lord Brixton said, his tone formal but his features relaxed. He was still aware of who stood before him, years of knowing each other did not change that fact.

"I am sorry to hear of Alton's passing," the King said, gravely. "It saddened me that I could not see his Burning." For a split second his eyes darted to where Thayer stood, beside his mother. "Pressing matters kept me away."

Gigi couldn't help herself, she raised her head, knowing that their search for Thayer must have been the pressing matters he spoke of. Thayer didn't seem to notice her, his focus on the two other men. As the conversation continued, Gigi thought back to how long Thayer must have been in the encampment. Her thoughts were interrupted by her grandmother's voice. Instantly, she gathered her wits as she heard her grandfather leading up to her introduction.

"...we are blessed to have some piece of him still with us," he said.

Gigi felt the same prick at her heart with his words, color flooding her face without a known reason. Lord Brixton extended his hand to her.

"May I introduce to you my granddaughter, Lady Genevieve," he said.

The whole royal family looked over at Gigi. Giving a simple curtsy, she met each of their gazes, landing at last on Thayer's. Something sparked in his eyes, a hint of recognition flitting across his mind. But when she spoke the look faded.

"I am pleased to be before you, your majesty," she said, her tone soft as a rose petal and melodious as a song.

The King gave a single nod in acknowledgment accompanied by a generous grin. The Queen's light brown eyes held Gigi and she sent her a warm, inviting smile.