ARIELLE:
We return to the ballroom, and I must confess, I am less than thrilled. The room is in much the same state of chaotic exuberance as before, although there are now a few more Amazons who seem to have shed a rather alarming amount of clothing, and the interactions with the 'men' are becoming increasingly... tactile.
The announcer booms something about the next dance being a waltz, and I realize, with a fresh wave of panic, that I have absolutely no idea what I am supposed to do. My "partner" is, at this point, a mere figment of my overactive imagination. The crowd begins to clear the dance floor, the ladies and the 'men' forming separate lines across from one another.
I stand there, feeling utterly exposed and rather foolish. The 'men' step forward, and the ladies respond with a graceful bow. I remain rooted to the spot, painfully aware of my partnerless state. The 'men' take the ladies' hands, drawing them closer than I have ever comprehended, and then they begin to move, executing the steps of the waltz with a practiced ease. I am still standing awkwardly, caught somewhere between the two lines.
Suddenly, someone grabs my hand, hauling me unceremoniously to the left. I gasp, and turn to see who has dared to manhandle me.
It is the Prince.
He gazes down at me, his ocean blue eyes smoldering with that infuriating intensity that sends shivers down my spine. A jolt of something akin to electricity, a connection that is both terrifying and strangely exhilarating, courses between us. He places his hand on my waist, pulling me closer, so close that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
"What are you doing?" I ask softly, my voice barely above a whisper. He doesn't say a word, his gaze never wavering.
He leads me to the center of the dance floor, and then, with a slight nod, he looks down at my feet. It seems he expects me to dance with him. We begin the waltz, and I find myself mirroring his movements, the familiar steps a small comfort in this sea of uncertainty. We move in perfect synchronicity, our eyes locked, and I can't help but be drawn to the details of his face. The sharp angles of his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the way the light catches in his eyes – he is, undeniably, striking.
He takes me into an underarm turn, and since he towers over me, I am lifted into the air a bit. My eyes dart around, fear seizing me. I frantically search for a possible escape route and spot an open door.
I decide to escape during the exchange of partners. I swing away from him and run through the crowd to the outer balcony, gasping for breath. I am utterly beguiled by this Prince's beauty and poise. I don't understand why I am both afraid and strangely submissive in his presence. I hear footsteps approaching. I smooth my dress and stand up straight, awaiting my pursuer to speak, but only the wind whispers by.
"Who is there?" I ask, uneasiness lacing my voice.
Silence. I whirl around, my eyes catching sight of the Prince. I quickly face forward again, my eyes wide. Why is he here? What does he want from me?
Slowly, I turn back to meet his gaze. An immediate tremor runs through me, and my heart races. My breathing quickens, my chest rising and falling rapidly. His hand lightly touches my cheek, and I shudder at his touch. A whirlwind of emotions surges within me. How does he evoke such feelings? He bows his head and places a kiss on my forehead, his cold lips brushing my skin. I don't comprehend the meaning behind it, though my mother does this to me sometimes.
He then departs, leaving me to question his motives. He is so mysterious and daunting, yet soon, I will be his possession.
I retreat to my room, anxious about my future with a man I scarcely know and burdened by my naive understanding of men as mere creations of Phanes. Why did Phanes place them on this island or in this realm?
Mother tells me to rest and not dwell on it, since tomorrow I am to marry Caith Saint, whatever his name is. I attempt to follow her advice and drift to sleep in the comforting embrace of my family, ready to be sold to…