6 Chapter 6: A Prince Rescuing A Damsel

“Isn’t it so strange?” Roseia’s voice was the first thing Gisella heard later that night when she walked into the preparation room for the performers.

“It smells funny.” Otho said as Gisella saw him scrunch his nose up at the powder his sister’s friend now shoved into it.

Roseia only rolled her eyes at the boy before walking towards Gisella and showing her the new objects of her interest. “It’s cosmetics from the Farradorian marketplace,” She told her, “It’s a bit heavier and darker than what we usually wear but that’s because they’re made from natural ingredients they grow here.”

Gisella found herself sticking her finger into one of the pastes and rubbing it between her fingers, “It’s so…”

“Natural?” Roseia offered, “At least a whole lot more natural than the colours they usually have us wear. Here, let me put some on for you!”

And so Gisella sat in the chair assigned for her for what must have felt like eons as Roseia applied the new products to her eyes and lips. Some of the coloring, she saw in the mirror before her, was even added to her cheeks and nose for a somewhat flu-like look.

She couldn’t deny that these local colours looked better on her face than the unnatural colours Gisella and her troupe usually wore. These colours were more sensual and less striking.

The next thing they did to her was adorn her with the silks she would wear tonight. They were different fabrics from the previous night as their performance would now be more risky and suave.

Gisella noted the way Malota told them to leave the silks of their face slightly undone so that it may fall from her face as she’s dancing.

When the time to perform came, Gisella was ushered slowly yet quickly to the main stage where their audience awaited them. She entered the stage much like she did before and revelled in the way the chattering of the crowd silenced as they saw her.

But Gisella’s focus was on something else that night. Her eyes passed over the crowd as she scanned for a particular face, skimming the lines of the silver band wearers to further in and on top of the rest where the members of the royal court sat.

There, sitting in the furthest corner of the room sipping his wine, was the stranger she had met the night before.

And just as she had made eye contact with him and lowered her eyes in a sensual gaze, the silks on her face fell from their position and onto the floor. She turned around once to the beat of the music and the rest of her attire spun with her.

Her now bright lips were tilted upwards, her eyes never leaving his as she bent over and twirled her fabrics around her slim body. Gisella thought she saw his hand tighten on the chalice of wine he held and a tick in his jaw as he broke eye contact with her, and that was all she needed to spur her on.

The performance she gave that night was the greatest she had ever done in her entire career. Her body was glistening with sweat and her chest pumped up and down at a rough yet steady pace as she tried to keep up with the way her body moved.

The audience stood and applauded her at the end of her session, and she could still hear their whistles as she made her way back to the dressing rooms.

No one else was there as of yet, as they were all still performing their acts for the night. As she began to undo her silks, a knock on the door sparked something of hope in her that the stranger had followed her.

Her shoulders fell in disappointment when one of the men of court walked through the door without her answer to enter.

“Your performance was ravishing.” He told her as a way of greeting. Gisella only stood there as still as possible as she smiled lightly and thanked the man.

“You’re too kind, sir. Unfortunately I am currently in the middle of—“

But the man cut her off as he leaped forward and grabbed hold of her wrists, “You are too ravishing to let go. Let the king feast his eyes on one of the other young girls, but you must be mine.”

Shock flooded her system at the man’s bold words: “Be my concubine.”

Her eyes widened, “Leave your dancing and join me. You will want for nothing. I will make sure your troupe is handsomely paid for your absence.”

She shook her head quickly at the man’s proposal. “I’m afraid I cannot, sir. But thank you for your kind offer.”

“Why not!?”

Fear began to ride up within her as the man’s grip began tightening on her wrists. On instinct, she began to pull away, but that only served to upset him more.

Before she knew it, the man was on top of her and gripping at her silks. When he pushed her down onto the ground, Gisella gasped from the impact and moved to swing at the man. But she hesitated and held back, knowing she could not hurt a man of the court, or else she would risk repercussions from the King.

But then the man was ripped from her. The next thing she knew, she was being lifted up from the floor.

“What,” a low voice spoke from in front of her, and she heard a rumble from the chest she was pressed into, “do you think you are doing?”

She lifted her gaze to the man who had attacked her and watched how his face grew wide and pale with regret. His next words shocked Gisella to the core.

“P-prince Ryre!” The man quickly fell to his knees. “I apologize if I offended you, my prince! That wench attacked me and—“

But before the man could say anything more, the handsome stranger—no, Prince Ryre—kicked him against his shoulder and sent the man flying from the room.

“Your time at court seems to have come to a messy end.” Gisella watched as Ryre crouched down and whispered something in the man’s ear. She couldn’t hear what he said exactly, but by the look of death that passed over the man of court’s face, she knew it was by no means anything she would want to hear.

The prince shut the door behind him with a loud thud as the man departed, leaving the two of them alone. But he didn’t turn around to face Gisella for a long moment, and she could hear heavy breathing. He still had a hard grip on the handle, and she could tell he was struggling with something.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she allowed her voice to filter the thick tension of the room. “Thank you.”

It was then that he turned around and faced her. His face was hard, and, in the bright candle light that was scattered around the room, she could fully see how handsome he truly was now. Not filtered by a hood or by the darkness of the lighting. Gisella felt her breath leave her at the look on his face.

He was astonishingly gorgeous. So much so that Gisella felt herself become conscious of her own torn silks and ragged presence.

Gisella thought he must have noticed the way she fidgeted, because he shook his head and reached out for her. Something in her spurred her forward then, and she relished the way he held her face in his hands.

She swore she could have sighed in bliss by the way he ran his nose across her cheek and settled in her neck as he breathed her in.

They stood like that for a moment before he spoke.

“Do you want me to kill him?”

His words shocked her.

She wasn’t sure if it was the offer or the earnest way he said it that surprised her more, but still she shook her head. “No! No, please don’t do that.”

“I would, if you asked it of me.” He nuzzled into her further, and she blushed at the attention, “Command it of me and I will see it done.”

Her heart began to beat faster at his words.

His next words were softer than the previous. “My name is Ryre,” He spoke it out in a soft laugh, as if he too was now only realizing he had never introduced himself.

Then he pulled away and offered her a rose. She must have not noticed him bringing it with all the commotion, and before she could tell him thank you the door burst open to reveal a concerned Roseia and Otho.

Ryre left without another word as her friends fussed over her.