36

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.

__________________________________________

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.

"Forget it, Cissy," Delilah soothed.

"It must have been a pain to be around the very man that... and I kept encouraging you to give him attention," Cecilia tensed at the sudden realization, "But, but he did not know. His every action was free from this sordid piece of history. That means-"

"I know. But it is too late for regrets," Delilah looked down at her tense fingers while Cecilia felt like her breath had been taken away.

"So you do feel something towards him even if it is regret."

"I am human, Cissy," Delilah whispered softly, "I am not an unfeeling statue of chiselled marble."

"Shouldn't we just turn back? The ball hasn't ended for the Prince's friends and we could just..."

"There is nothing back there for us. There never was..." Delilah's words were so hushed her cousin had to strain to listen.

"He was our friend, maybe he will understand."

"You know him and his wilful personality? You spent as much time with him as I. After tonight he would want us as far away as possible."

Cecilia nodded sadly.

_________________________________________

Damian was never going to rest as long as his mind was racing like a horse driven carriage gone astray. He had the watched the clouds swirl darkly until the birds started to chirp and the sky had lightened. The new day brought forth rays of light that filtered through the cloud cover deceiving the observer into believing the light would remain sweetly subtle when in fact it would turn into a blistering fire. For the first time Damian could look through the sadness Delilah seemed to personify and compare her to the sun. She had been so fleeting in their interactions that he had mistaken her for something fragile but in the end she had managed to burn him.

He desperately didn't want to think of her but her image and her words kept circling in his mind. He hadn't slept the whole night and the fatigue was making his mind more vulnerable. He finally looked away from the sky when the light started to hurt his eyes and sat down on his bed still feeling his heart thump as if squeezed on all sides. He was struggling with his boots when there was knock on the door.

"Who is it? I told you, Jerald, I want to see no one," Damian barked at his personal servant. He kicked his boot off before wrenching off the other one.

"I though so," A soft voice interrupted his internal diatribe. The pale green clad woman entered the room hesitantly. She tilted her head as if trying to visually read how damaged her son was. It was unfortunate for her that she could not see beyond his exterior and look into his heart.

"Mother, what-" Damian stood up with his leather boot hanging limply in his hand. The confusion on his face cleared and contorted into resentment, "You knew!"

"I really believed you did as well," His mother looked at him with an odd mixture of sorrow and sympathy.

"Just one hint, just one word," Damian hissed ignoring the small hand inching towards his face. He didn't want to be comforted when there was so much fury in his chest.

"I did not know how convoluted the situation was," Damian's mother tilted her head with a knowing look on her face; "You really like her."

Damian pressed his lips stonily unwilling to show any sign of weakness, "Mother, you won, isn't that enough. Must you pour salt over my wounds?"

"No, I never won anything. All I wish, I wish- I wished for many things but mostly I want you to be happy," She paused with a soft sigh, "This is not the Damian I know. I didn't think you would consent to marriage to a girl you barely knew. I assumed you knew everything about her including her past with this castle and would not want anything to do with her. I did not see any danger of this attachment happening."

"You were right. I- I liked her," He scowled as his mind supplied him with images of how blinded he was that he hadn't even noticed he was falling for her, "I have known many women, do not look at me like that, mother. I do know many women and many of them I would call my friend but there was no one I wanted to spend time with more than necessary."

"But you only knew her for a month," His mother queried.

"I know, I know but I couldn't stop myself... from wanting to be with her. I couldn't see her walk away from me," Damian sat down tensely; his shoulders felt like the weight of the world was upon them.

"And yet you never bothered to ask her how she feels?" Queen Rosemary chided, "Common sense, darling. Even your father was never so imprudent."

"I know, mother! I was so sure, so convinced that nothing could take her away from me. I wanted, no I needed her to be on my side that I drowned my worry and my self doubt," The Prince hissed barely controlling the dual urge either to give into grief and fury, "I feel so, so furious. I have never felt so humiliated in my entire life. How could she do this to me?"

"Can you blame her?" His mother whispered with a forlorn look.

Damian turned away stubbornly letting his fair hair fall in his face.

______________________________________

Delilah's eyes opened from the uneasy slumber as soon as she felt the first jolt, "I think we're finally off the main road."

"I don't even need to look out of the window. The ache in my back speaks loud and clear. Oh, how I wish I had gotten the matter of the horrible eastbound dirt road out in front of the Prince. If he can not do anything about this wretched route who," Cecilia paused immediately realizing who she was talking about, "could."

"Indeed," Delilah nodded wearily though her mouth ended up in a firm line.

Cecilia busied herself by peering outside and exclaiming that the sun was now above the horizon. They had started out so early that it would not be a falsehood to say it had been the middle of the night.

"Another day and we'll be home. Wetenshire is only a few miles away. We shall dine and change the horses when we get there," Delilah breathed the air wildly flapping the large lapels of her travelling coat and putting her hair into disarray. It was still bound in the braid Cecilia had so lovingly constructed after much trial and error.

"Mother will not be happy I come back without a ring on my finger," Cecilia rubbed her empty fingers unconsciously, "but you needn't pity me, I can handle her fury but what about you, your mother tends to create a larger fuss."

"My mother has no expectations of me any more," Delilah smiled with no warmth in her eyes.

"I wonder what her reaction would be if were to find out that Crown Prince Damian proposed to you. Your worth would shoot up in her eyes," From the glee in her voice it was obvious Cecilia was busy plotting.

"But she won't find out since my dear sweet cousin will keep her mouth shut," Delilah smiled mock sweetly.

"Why ever not?" Cecilia pouted.

"You are conveniently forgetting I refused the Prince's offer. If she ever found out..." Delilah raised an eyebrow and Cecilia was quick to understand. The resentment her aunt would express would be nigh impossible to subdue. The younger girl looked out at the gradually undulating, green hills for a few moments before the boredom set again. They had already passed through some treacherous terrain that involved barren, rocky mountains and boulder filled passes. That had been worth her while but the tame, spread apart hills and almost flat (yet incredibly pebble filled) road was tame in comparison.

"I- I'm still curious," Cecilia inched closer to her cousin trying to look as innocent as possible. Delilah was clearly not fooled.

"He proposed, and he kissed you, yes, he told me before you ask," Cecilia smiled smugly, "Would you have accepted if you didn't have so much of your past ruining the future."

"I never looked at him that way," Delilah murmured nonchalantly but the steady redness on her cheeks gave her away. She looked down at her lap unable to look up, "I still don't know why- why he thought I was..."

"Amazing enough to want to marry! I have conversed much with him over the course of this month and all he ever did was talk about you. It was obvious from the start what he felt for you. Even before the Ball he came to ask me what he could give-" Cecilia's smirk turned to sheer terror as the carriage lurched while there was a loud crack heard simultaneously. Delilah grabbed hold of Cecilia whose side of the cabin seemed to drop at once. The redhead slid down the leather seats and smacked her head against the steel of the window while Delilah held onto the strap on her side to stop herself from crushing her cousin.

"What happened?" Delilah shouted as Cecilia groaned groggily.

"It appears that the axle has broken!" The frantic shouts of their footman reached them.

"Is everyone alright?" Delilah shouted again and placed her hand on the back of Cecilia's head. There was a bump on her scalp but no telltale signs of blood; this did not relieve the diligent cousin because the head could easily be hiding internal bleeding.

"I think I might have sprained my ankle," The driver who was an older man with greying hair, answered with suppressed pain.