The ball was grand from afar, but the village even more exuberant after seen up close, and what fun the peasants were having, it almost made Timothy want to be one of them and a part of their fun. His hand lay carefully across Talin's lap and held onto her hand, for she would not let him go out of either nervousness or fear, he could not determine. What bothered her so about being a part of the ball, he didn't know…
"You, my Lord, are entitled to your opinion and I do not wish to protest you sharing it with others. But I do wish that you would live way apart from their many daughter of… Do you know her?" Demetre stopped mid stride, staying with the pace of Lord Mercer.
"Ne, Your highness… But I wish I did." The Lord's answer came short spoken and not uninterrupted. A woman's shrill voice quailed behind Demetre, startling him to the point of taking his eyes from the gorgeous woman who'd climbed gingerly from the back of a massive Clydesdale alone.
"Demetre!" the woman shrieked, throwing her arms around Demetre's neck from her short height, and laid a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Oh, how I missed my son… How fares the day for you?"
"Mother," Demetre suppressed an aggravated grunt, and pulled away from his mother. "I must inquire about the young woman in blue, from the back of the Clydesdale. Have you met her?" He seemed to be locked in a trance by her beauty, and her exquisite knowledge of the passageways within, for she passed right under the guards' door without their notice or upcoming attentions.
"I believe," the queen replied with a certain amount of hesitation, "that is the wife of former King Simon…" her voice trailed off as she spotted some of her higher qualifying friends and made off to be with them. It was all the same to Demetre, who was only going to stand there and gag himself at this woman beauty rather than find her name or position. If his mother's prediction was right, he might well indeed need to speak with her.
"Excuse me, kind sir… could you direct me to the Prince's quarters?" The woman leaned her head slightly in front of the well-dressed old man to hear his mumbled instructions. To the right, on the third hall. "Thank you," she muttered with a departing bow of her head. "To the right," she repeated as her feet found place along the soft-bedded stone floor. Tapestries in this castle were wonderful, much more favorable than those in Kore. Her right side was pretty near leaning on the wall, and therefore it was easy to find the room she was to find. Leaning heavily on the door, she placed her head against it and moved it open, silently as she'd hoped.
"Madame," a strong, firm and commanding voice said from behind her. She wheeled around to see a handsome young lad with ebon colored hair and sea green eyes staring at her. "Of what business do you have in the Prince's room?" Her mouth froze, losing what she'd been about to say. His gaze locked into hers and she stood there, unable to move or say anything, until his hand caught her on the shoulder. She was half-glad he'd been sent to escort her away, but half angry because he was keeping her from her job.
"I have to speak with the Prince," she muttered, about to whirl around and go in anyway.
"He's not in there anyway. Why do you need to speak with him? Have you been sent by someone?" The man turned and stared furiously at her, inquiring her copper stare and most likely challenging it.
"In a way," she uttered, tugging free of his grasp. "I'd much rather speak to Demetre about it!"
"Well in ways, but we don't get what we want!" He spun to grab her, typical male temper rising. His fingers narrowly missed the sleeve of her dress, and he stumbled. "You shan't go in there," he said. "And if you do, I shall be forced to go to the Prince about this."
"I'd much like to see you do that! I need to speak to him anyway!" She wheeled around, hair flying in an untangled fit of gold, and bumped into someone.
* * *
Talin's face paled as she saw the blood dripping from her arm in a constant, heavy flow of red liquid. Her mouth opened to let out a shrill squeal, but nothing came and the most of a reaction she could manage was a mutter. "Holy Jesus," she whispered, taking her bloody hand and holding the equally stained arm out in front of her. "Timothy!" She chided, falling against the door of the bathing room. The bloody glass sat still no the floor, an ugly truth to the reality of fear in Talin's mind. "Timothy," she whispered as her senses faded. Still walking as quickly as possible, Talin marched to Timothy's door, where he said he wasn't to be disturbed, in a meeting with his father. "Timothy." She said it once more as she collapsed unstably onto the door with a rather loud tumble.