Warrior Hearts

Melting Emotions

I'm unsure of what to do with my hands. Perhaps I should clasp them together at my front? Grimacing, I shake my head ever so slightly, dismissing my own thought. No, that would look far too formal. I could tuck them behind my back? Tsking, I scrunch up my face in disapproval. For the Lord's sake, I'm not standing to attention in front of a governess. At my sides, then, I decide. That is, after all, the most natural position for my hands to rest at.

Inhaling a deep breath, I drop my hands to my sides; the skin of my palms brushing against the material of the gown that is now hugging my frame, almost as if it has been personally crafted for me. Unfortunately I could not adorn this midnight blue gown at tonight's dinner gathering. However, Malhotra's private celebration has presented me with the perfect opportunity to rectify this mistake of mine to a certain extent. Truth be told, more than anything else that awaits me in the dining hall, I am looking forward to Malhotra's reaction once he sees me in this gown. The last time I walked through those doors, I gave him nothing but disappointment. Now, however, I wish that Malhotra feels an ounce of the joy that he has been kind enough to bestow upon me all evening.

"Here goes," I murmur, as my fingers wrap themselves around the handles of the doors beyond which Malhotra awaits my company. Pushing them open, I step into the dining hall, my actions fuelled on by an eagerness unlike any I've experienced before. At once, my eyes land on the man who is awaiting my company. Malhotra's pacing across the width of the table, the movements of his feet lacking their usual grace and fluidity. For some odd reason, I am well able to sense an air of anxiety that's emanating from Malhotra.

"Hello, Malhotra." I say, unsure of what other form of greeting to bestow upon the man in front of me at this ungodly hour. The slightest waver in my voice gives away the tight bundle of nerves that have nestled themselves into the pit of my stomach. As subtly as I can, I press the palms of my hands against the sides of my gown in an attempt to rid them of the moisture that has now formed a thin coat along their surface. Upon hearing my voice, Malhotra's head snaps up, jerking in my direction. His worried gaze which was riveted on the floor mere seconds ago, now treats me as its newfound target.

"Princess," Malhotra breathes in disbelief. Without wasting a second, his eyes begin their leisurely descent along the length of my body, similar to the path that they took a while ago in my chamber. As he takes his time in assessing me, my heart begins to hammer expectantly against the confines of my chest. On their own volition, I find my index and middle fingers wrapping themselves around each other in a silent prayer for Malhotra to appreciate what stands in front of him. I release a sigh of relief as I watch Malhotra's lips tilt upwards - ever so lazily - into a smile that reaches the very corners of his eyes.

Unblinking still, I search those cryptic orbs of Malhotra's for approval that I never thought I'd wish to seek from another, especially a man; especially Malhotra. However, instead of complying by my silent wish, Malhotra tears his gaze away from me, seemingly unimpressed by the sight of me. Shaking his head disappointedly, he turns his head to the left, a scoff of disbelief falling from his lips.

"W-What's wrong?" I ask, my fingers tightening their death grip around each other. A cloud of dismay - more profound than any emotion I've ever experienced before - hovers around my heart as I continue to stand in front of Malhotra like a castaway. Lord knows how I've managed to remain standing up until now, instead of turning on my heel and fleeing back the way I came.

"What's wrong, Princess?" Malhotra echoes, his brows rising along with the high-pitched tone of incredulity in his voice. A bark of laughter escapes his lips, startling me. "You!" Frowning, I allow myself to take a cautious step away from the senile man in front of me.

"You're the most beautiful lady I've ever laid eyes upon, and as if that isn't enough, you keep outdoing yourself," Malhotra says. Puzzled at his accusatory tone, I continue to stare at Malhotra as if I fail to understand the language that he is conversing with me in. "Here you stand," Malhotra continues, his arms stretching out towards me, "The epitome of all the beauty in this world, and I can't so much as find the adequate words to do justice to the sight in front of me. My hands are itching to reach out and touch you - to show you the effect you have on me - and I'm rendered helpless. The effort to hold myself away from you is physically painful, Princess."