The Lady Knight

"The Crown Prince looks rather traumatised, does he not, Ma'am?" Captain Everard observed, sniggering under his breath.

I glanced over at where he was looking, curious.

The Prince, attired in a glossy black suit with a royal blue sash slung across his torso, complete with a golden crown balanced precariously on his dark brown hair as usual, was dancing the quadrille de contredanses with Diana and three other pairs.

I watched, as the four couples, arranged in the shape of a square with each of the couples facing the centre of that square, engaged in the intricate dance with quick, light steps, in time to the music.

What amused me was how the Prince's eyes kept riveting to the doors at the back of the Ballroom every time he switched partners during the dance, with an almost desperate expression on his face most people around him seemed blind to.

No doubt he was waiting to make his escape, but then again, that was a nigh impossibility.

I had watched enough this evening to know how the game in the Ballroom was played, with the Prince as the main player - and how he was losing miserably.

For every time he would make an excuse to leave after a dance, he would be surrounded by a group of Lords, consisting of the young and the old, to discuss politics. Indeed, I had overheard one such conversation when the Lords had once ambushed him near where I was stationed.

I knew for a fact that politics wore on the Prince's patience. Politicians were never usually direct with their words, and the Prince hated complexity in all things.

However, unlike the Prince, politics simply fascinated me. Mayhap it was the thrillingly cunning manner in which they wielded their words to achieve their own selfish purposes? Or was it the quick way their minds worked to get themselves out of their troubles?

I knew not. No matter the reason, I had very happily eavesdropped on their conversation while they conversed passionately with the Prince about their views.

However, whenever the Prince made an excuse to leave the discussion, a mother and her daughter would appear out of thin air. They would cling to either side of him for a turn about the room, filling his ears with endless chatter, most likely about Ladies and marriages.

It was all they could talk about nowadays, truly.

I should know. Marguerite had been dragging me once every ten minutes to meet one noble Lady or the other, mothers and daughters, throughout the evening.

Needless to say, I was already weary of them.

In addition, I was also extremely weary of standing on guard duty for almost three hours now, having done absolutely nothing productive in that time.

In a way, I was as eager as the Prince was to make my escape from the Ballroom. However, while I found that my predicament was bad, I had to concede that his was dire.

For after he would be rid of the mother and daughter, one of the Ladies of Cavarriere would ask him for a dance once more. At some instances, that particular daughter he had escaped earlier would return and hint at wanting to be asked for a dance by him.

Eyelash batting, coy glances, simpering words. They exploited all the weapons in their arsenal. Indeed, they were so desperate for his attention that it was sickening to watch.

They were everything that I never, ever wanted to be.

Of course, the Prince, being the perfect gentleman in public at least, would ask them to dance. The vicious cycle would then repeat all over again.

I wanted to throw my head back and laugh out loud at this repeated series of events unfolding before me.

However, I had to restrain myself, as it would gather too much attention. Army officers on guard duty, especially those in a ballroom, were neither supposed to be seen nor heard.

"He is a Crown Prince, Captain Everard," I smiled mischievously, "this is all part of his job description. He has to do his job well, yes?"

"If you say so, Ma'am," he returned my smile, "in truth, however, I would not mind being in his place. It is certainly more exciting to move around and meet new people than standing here." He scowled for a brief moment.

I raised an eyebrow. It was one thing to complain in one's own head, like I had been doing at the moment, but another thing altogether to grumble out loud about duties where everyone could hear.

"It is not like you to complain so outwardly of your duties, Captain Everard."

He flushed, abashed. "Apologies, Ma'am."

I nodded, quickly losing interest in this conversation. I returned to watching the Ladies and gentlemen on the rather crowded dance floor. The quadrille number had ended a few moments ago, and they were now spinning and twirling to another lively dance number in so many directions that it quite surprised me that they could maintain their balance.

I had to admire them. I certainly knew I could not dance like that and still remain upright.

"Jules, dear!" a voice strained to be heard above the music in the Ballroom.

"Did you hear someone call me, Captain Everard?" I turned to him, puzzled, snapping out of my thoughts at once.

"Aye, Ma'am, I did," he looked about him, his forehead creasing.

As I scrutinised my surroundings, my eyes fell on a tall aged man, quite impeccably dressed for the evening, hurrying towards me from the entrance of the Ballroom, all the while waving animatedly at me.

I broke into a small smile. "Greetings, Your Grace," I greeted him, amused, "you are rather late for the Ball."

The Duke of Cavarriere, Lord Jasper Beaumont, skidded to a stop in front of me, panting heavily. His greying blonde hair was dishevelled, and beads of perspiration covered his forehead.

"Nay, I am right on time, dear," he winked at me, "everyone else is simply early."

A chuckle left my lips. "Of course, Your Grace," I rolled my eyes, "please do remember to inform me when you convince Lady Marie of that. It will be the day that the Sun rises from the West instead of the East."

"I am highly aware of that," he acknowledged sheepishly, "and I must find her before she decides to have my head. Do you know where she is?"

"She was swearing up and down the hallway leading to the Ballroom earlier, promising all sorts of horrors when you return," I flashed him an impish smile, "but I do believe she should now be speaking with Lady Blanche and a few other Ladies by the refreshment table."

"I see that my predicament amuses you very much," he observed dryly, "if you would excuse me, I shall approach her now." He shot me an exasperated smile, before hurrying off towards the refreshment table.

Lord Jasper and Lady Marie made quite a unique pair. One day, they were so dramatically loving towards each other that it made anyone within a five-yard radius of them sick.

The very next day, you could find Lady Marie throwing utensils out the window at a scurrying Lord Jasper, who would have done something foolish, again, to irritate her. Some examples would include forgetting important dates, or misplacing his belongings all about the house.

He usually fled to his friend Lord Owen, Marguerite's father's house across the street during such instances, and stayed there until he was certain that Lady Marie had calmed down.

Sometimes, Camille and Marguerite would relate to the rest of us such stories until we had tears in our eyes from laughing.

"Jules, there you are! Come now, meet Lady Chevalier!" the voice belonging to the very person I was thinking of yelled in my ear without warning.

"By God, Maggie! Do you have to -" I was cut off, as she grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her none too gently without waiting for my consent.

"She is such an interesting Lady, Jules. You have to meet her!" she assured me, nodding her head vigorously.

Her words might have had been truly assuring, even convincing, had she not been saying them repeatedly all evening, every time she dragged me along with her to meet another enthusiastic mother wanting to get her equally eager daughter married.

In the meanwhile, she had pulled the both of us through the crowds on the dance floor, weaving between the dancers.

"Excuse me - "

"Coming through - "

"Pardonez-moi, Madame - "

"Maggie, I am only on guard duty. Why do you insist on acquainting me with these women?" I huffed, exasperated.

"Jules, Knight or not, you are a Lady of the Society, and an important one at that. Have you ever realised that you are only second to Queen Eleanor and Princess Charlotte? It is why everyone is so eager to meet you tonight. You need to set an example to all the other Ladies of the Society," she answered firmly, "therefore, you will socialize at Balls, and you will make new acquaintances."

With that, she pulled the both of us to a sudden stop in the middle of the dance floor.

"You sound like the Queen," I grumbled, disgruntled, "I am not a Lady of the Society and I will never be."

"Do I truly sound like Her Majesty?" she seemed surprised, pulling me out of the way as couples danced around us, "mayhap it is because you infuriate the both of us with your reservations. You can be a Lady and a Knight at the same time, Jules. You need not make a choice."

"I have already made that choice," I murmured softly.

She did not hear me. Rather, she was standing on her toes to peer above the towering ladies and gentlemen present, searching wildly for someone.

Lady Chevalier, no doubt.

"Strange," she muttered, frowning, "where did she go? I had told her to wait for me at this very spot. She was so willing to make your acquaintance, too."

I made a sympathetic noise at the back of my throat, while internally rejoicing.

"Wait for me, Jules. I shall find her. Dare not move an inch from this spot," she instructed me, before she plunged into the crowds out of my sight.

Wait for her in the middle of the dance floor? She had to be daft.

I moved to the boundaries of the dance floor, thinking hard. I knew I had to make my escape before she returned. But how? I -

At that moment, my problem was taken care of.

"Julie!" an urgent voice whispered in my ear, "do not argue, do not protest." Before I could comprehend who spoke, or what I was being told, my right hand was gently lifted up onto the crook of someone's arm.

I blinked several times, finding myself being led forward along the edge of the dance floor at a leisurely pace, quite unlike how Marguerite had handled me mere moments ago.

I glanced up to see the Prince strolling next to me. Noticing me staring, he offered me the same frozen, pleasant smile he had been giving everyone this evening.

Nay, he was not smiling at me. He was smiling for someone else, for show.

I peeked subtly around his frame to find the waiting pairs of mothers and daughters staring at the both of us with disappointment, dissatisfaction, and even anger.

I understood the Prince's motive at once.

Shooting them an icy glare, I slowly but threateningly moved my hand to the hilt of my sword. Their gazes followed my movements, and they stepped back at once, eyes wide with terror.

I grunted, satisfied. It seemed that they had forgotten whom they were staring at.

The Prince broke into a true, small smile this time. "Thank you so much, Julie," he sighed under his breath, looking relieved.

I, on the other hand, was far from relieved. All I wanted to do was to escape the Prince and the Ballroom before Marguerite found me.

"So may I now excuse myself, then?" I hastily attempted to pull my hand away from the crook of his arm.

His hand closed over mine, preventing me from doing so. "Not yet, Julie. Walk with me a while more, please?" he requested, sounding close to hysteria.

I raised an eyebrow, glaring pointedly at his hand that was covering mine. He removed it at once, his cheeks growing slightly pink.

"I am sorry," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That is all right. Mayhap I will even walk with you, Your Royal Highness," I considered, as a thought came to mind, "it may deter Lady Chevalier and Maggie from approaching me at least temporarily."

His grin grew wide. "It seems I am not the only one who is avoiding company tonight."

I scowled at him and said nothing. We walked in silence for several minutes, and soon finished walking around the Ballroom almost five times.

When was he going to allow me to leave? I increased the speed of our pace.

"Walk slowly, will you not? I do not want to be pulled onto the dance floor again for a while more," he insisted desperately, tugging gently on my hand that was still tucked in the crook of his arm.

I chuckled, momentarily forgetting that I was annoyed with him. "The situation was not so bad at the Ball in Louvre, was it, Your Royal Highness?" I teased, as we turned a corner.

He huffed, an irritated expression taking over his features. "By the Lord, I swear, Julie," he whispered furiously, "if I have to go to another Ball like this, or any other social event, for that matter, I shall go insane with the effort to sound polite, when all I want to do is strangle the whole lot of them for wearing so much on my patience."

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "They are honoured and eager to make your acquaintance, Your Royal Highness. It may have escaped your notice, but you are the Crown Prince of this realm."

Just as he was about to open his mouth to reply me when we reached the next corner of the Ballroom, a familiar nasal voice interrupted our conversation.

"Well, well, what do we have here? I heard tongues wagging, but I had not believed them."

The Prince and I tensed at once, as we turned around to face the menace.

Who was also known as Lord Andrew by his loved ones.

"So, Your Royal Highness, you and the Lady Knight..." he continued, wagging his eyebrows suggestively as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

I scowled ferociously, ready to fly at him for even daring to speak to me with that tone, let alone suggest something so ridiculous.

However, the Prince tugged my hand again without looking at me, holding me back, as my eyes fell on Andrew's black eye I had given him earlier that day.

"How is the eye, my Lord?" I queried sweetly, my voice dripping with venom, "careful with your words now. Who knows, my hand might just slipover your other eye to match."

The Prince chuckled once, amused. "What are you doing here, Andrew? Didn't anyone tell you that Balls are only for adults?" he scoffed, his usual trademark smirk spreading across his lips as he looked down at the much shorter Andrew with superiority and contempt.

If there was one thing that Andrew simply hated about himself with all his heart, it was his height.

Even I was taller than he was, and that was saying a lot.

Andrew glared at the pair of us with extreme hatred for a long moment, before his glare gave way to a malicious grin.

At that moment, I knew, that whatever that was going to come out of his mouth was not going to be good for my tightly controlled temper.

"What does it matter whether I am at the Ball or not?" he maintained the same malicious smile, "the question is, why are you here? By the Lord, Your Royal Highness, it has hardly been a month since Lucien died. Would he not want you to be in mourning? Yet, here you are attending Balls and enjoying yourself so immensely, with the very woman who was the reason for it."

Pain flashed across the Prince's face once again, and his grey eyes darkened with the same deep grief that had me squirming with guilt earlier today.

He quickly composed his expression to an indifferent one, but I had caught that brief moment of vulnerability. It seemed that Andrew had as well, for his spiteful grin widened.

"I will do as I wish, Andrew," the Prince stated calmly, "I care not what you think of me attending these Balls, or whom I attend them with." His stance was relaxed; his tone serene.

How could he remain so composed?

My blood was already boiling with the familiar rush of fury when it came to Andrew. The spite, malice and loathing in his voice brought back too many flashes of similar, bitter memories from the past concerning the Prince. Memories that I had worked for years to keep passive at the back of my mind.

In addition, the most recent memory of Andrew's malice, Anna's tear-stained face from this evening, flashed across my eyes, making me see red.

"You are fortunate that you are at a Ball with so many people in attendance, my Lord," I snarled quietly, "indeed, I am already considering placing an order mark upon you."

Order marks were a demerit point system for all army officers in the Monriquan Armed Forces. Every time one of them did something against the law, or failed to follow the Code of Conduct of the Monriquan Armed Forces, the Commander General had the authority to issue an order mark upon them.

If they received five order marks throughout their career as an army officer, they would lose their positions in the army.

If the Commander General himself or herself were to commit an offence worthy of an order mark, or if the order mark issued to an army officer was unjust and biased, army officers had the right to report it to the Court of the Lady Justice, where the case would be reviewed.

However, that had never occurred during my term of office thus far. I had always tried to be as fair as possible in my dealings with my fellow Army officers.

Andrew's gaze narrowed. "You would not dare, my Lady Knight," his voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed his uncertainty, "it would be baseless. I have done nothing to deserve it."

"Leave it, Julie, do not waste time arguing with him. He is not worth it," the Prince murmured, but I ignored him and crossed my arms.

"Mayhap you have forgotten section number twenty, clause number fourteen of the Monriquan Armed Forces Code of Conduct," I answered curtly, "which states that army officers are not allowed to, under any circumstances, harm their sovereigns or the royal family in any way. Which includes the Crown Prince here, if you are not aware."

"I have not harmed His Royal Highness in any way, have I?" Andrew huffed defiantly.

For an answer, I grabbed hold of the Prince's forearm and hauled him forward so that he was standing directly in front of Andrew.

Both Andrew and the Prince stumbled, startled.

"Look at his nose and tell me you did not punch him this morning," I hissed, keeping my volume low so as not to attract too much attention to ourselves, "look into his eyes and tell me you have not been inflicting emotional pain on him the whole day!"

Andrew flinched.

I must have looked quite a sight as I trembled with a violent anger that completely overwhelmed my mind and actions. Even the Prince bit back whatever he had been about to add, looking at my expression.

"I...I.." Andrew stammered, and true fear of me entered his tone and his eyes for the very first time that day.

"Leave my sight this instant. If I catch you, or even hear of you taunting the Prince about Lord Lucien once more, I will issue you an order mark straight away, have no doubts. Is that understood?"

"Aye, Ma'am," he muttered, refusing to meet my gaze or the Prince's, as he shuffled off, no doubt to bother someone else.

My breathing was ragged, as blood continued to roar in my ears.

"By the Lord, Julie," the Prince whistled softly after he left, "there was no need to waste your energy on the likes of him." With that, he led me forward once more slowly.

"Why does he not bother you?" I demanded, "how can you remain so calm? He angers me so much, I could - "

"Hush, Julie," he interrupted weakly, but his tone brooked no refusal, "you look like a little fireball. Your face is all red. Breathe first. Now."

I inhaled deeply a couple of times to satisfy him. "You did not answer my question."

"I think I have become somewhat accustomed to his taunting, his spite, his malice," he mused after a moment as a reply.

"Truly?" I was disbelieving.

"I am speaking the truth," he insisted, "I will admit, however, that I was extremely angry this morning. How did he dare to talk to me about Lucien like that? Not only did he overstep his boundaries in insulting the memory of a dead person, who happened to be my best friend, to my face, he also forgot to whom he was speaking to. A Crown Prince."

"His blatant lack of respect for that title, and his apparent lack of fear for the consequences of that action truly infuriated me," he explained, "I tore up many pieces of parchment in my rage, threw many of my belongings across the room, punched a few walls...."

"Remarkable, Your Royal Highness. That completely sounds like you have become accustomed to Andrew's ways," I interjected drily.

He rolled his eyes at me before he continued. "However, my chambers became a mess, and I had to clean it. As I did so, I reflected on the morning's events. Was the fight, my broken nose, and all that yelling truly worth my time? Were the torn pieces of parchment, my damaged belongings, punching the walls, truly worth my time? Was Andrew worth it? And then I realised..."

"Yes?" I was intrigued.

"I realised that what he thought or said did not matter at all to me. Lucien was, and will forever be, my best friend. Who is Andrew to mock his death? What right did Andrew have to make me more miserable than I already was? Since when had I cared about what other people thought of me? When I decided what he said or thought of me did not matter to me, his spiteful words ceased to have their effect on me."

I cracked a small smile, very much moved by the depth of his thoughts. "You mean you have attained Nirvana?"

He laughed softly. "I suppose you could say that."

"However, I have yet to reach enlightenment," a brilliant idea was forming in my head, "and am very much inclined towards revenge." A mischievous smile spread across my face.

His face reflected my excitement. "What do you have in mind, my Lady Knight?"

***