Once upon a deception

The first prince 2

"Men in the court like their women quiet and grateful. Hit the right tracks and your stride will not be broken." Sister Mathilde had repeatedly hammered how much anyone with a title cherished control. Clarisse looked at the King one last time. He looked disturbed. Like a man who was grieving but there was also ambition in those soft blue eyes that bespoke of innocence. His golden locks had strands of grey in them and judging by the bored look in the man's eyes, Clarisse could tell he was only here because it was his duty. His bland mood however did not seem to stop the women from scurrying around the room looking for dances with rakish bachelors.

"I apologize for my rude nature your Majesty," Clarisse said, accompanied with a perfect bow. Sister Mathilde's cane had strummed her body perfectly. It came easy, almost like breathing air and it was an achievement considering Clarisse had a rather stiff back. "I am Clarisse. Clarisse of Trilaria."

"Pleasure to meet you, Lady Clarisse," The king retorted, stretching forth his right hand. On his middle finger rested the heavy gold ring Clarisse was obligated to kiss. Mathilde had drilled this to her too but pretending to be delighted in the presence of the King was the only lie Clarisse could pull off. She gave another bow.

"I am grateful for granting me haven. The wars have been a m******e lately." Clarisse feigned a foreign voice while acting her script like a puppet she had been trained to be. "My father will forever be indebted to you."

"You were supposed to kiss the ring." The king said, retracted his pathetic goodness. Clarisse bet he got high from all the eye service his subjects were entitled to give him.

"Oh," Clarisse adopted a generic look of pure horror as she met the eyes of the king before throwing herself to another courteous bow. "I apologize, Your Majesty, I had no idea. Forgive me for my habits. Things are different where I come from."

"I hope not too different," King Evan Dupre said. The bored look on his face permanent like the pride of nobles. "But I suppose, with the war… things must have changed. Do not let me keep you with me all night though. I am sure you have an agenda for this ball." And with a dismissive wave, Clarisse found herself brushed away from the man she so much wanted to kill and into the jungle of bloodthirsty women and energy-sucking noblemen. Clarisse was delighted to have the Grand Duke by her side but all those ethereal dreams of spending the ball close to him were shattered when a group of sophisticated noblemen signaled from his presence.

"My presence is required Clarisse," The Lord whispered into her ears. "Do be sure to enjoy the ball in my absence."

Before Clarisse could beg to accompany him. Sure she would be amid snobby older noblemen and women but it was so much better than the jealous glares and the gossips that were already spreading about her. To think Clarisse had once thought life in the King's court was a stately, graceful affair. The flickering whispers and demeanor of everyone present only strengthened Clarisse's argument that the King's court was a place for predatory bastards whose every gesture and word was in a ploy for their own twisted game. Clarisse's eyes continued to flick across the room, examining as she distracted herself with goblets of sweet red wine that passed occasionally. The back-breaker was the funny stares the men seemed to be giving her. The winks and ominous stare almost made her cough back the wine she had already taken too much of. It would only be seconds before one of them got enough confidence to approach her and profess a proposal and the rest would flock in with even greater promises like she was a property that needed to be bought. The only reason she was even getting the strange attention was because she had arrived in the King's carriage and conversed with the King. In their eyes, Clarisse was their card to stepping forward in the court but all Clarisse needed was a break.

She glided through the room with delicate steps, listening to both gossips about her and other nobles. But when one has had one too many of Wohar's famed brews, it was sure to be trouble. A very tipsy Clarisse stumbled on an already overworked servant and in seconds, the tray of cooked chicken and red wine tipped on some fellow Clarisse couldn't make out thanks to her hazy sight.

"My dress!" A familiar voice shrieked.

Clarisse's eyes cleared and she stared down at the destruction she had caused. The Grand Duke's daughter was stained and worse, all her foundation and expensive eyeliner were now pouring down her face. The music had stopped and all eyes made way to the embers of the fight that was sure to brew. It was not a ball without a scandal after all.

"I am sorry," Clarisse managed amidst hiccups. She doubted the Lady's whose night she just ruined would buy her apology.

"Sorry?" The other shrieked like what Clarisse had just uttered was an abomination. Well, Clarisse did. In the court, there was no forgiveness, no redemption. She had been told. "You should just go back to that war zone they plucked you from and die!"

There was a gasp in the congregation. Oh yes, they had a scandal. One that would never leave their lips for days to come. Clarisse thought that would be the end of it but as she attempted to walk away from the face-off, the Grand Duke's daughter grabbed Clarisse with one hand and elevated the other so high with the intent to smack Clarisse. Clarisse winced as the hand descended in a quick swoop but before it could do the damage it was intended for, someone intervened.

"That is about enough, Lady Mabel!" The stern voice of her savior reverberated in the chaotic silence as he slapped the girl's hands off.

If Clarisse thought she could keep out of the public eye until she was done with her mission. She had to know fate had other plans because her savior was none other than the first son of Wohar, Prince Esteban.