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𝐁𝐄𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 a child again, sneaking away from the ball. She could hear the instrumental music playing lightly in the room she and Kit had entered.
Bea and Kit had entered a room where paintings were strung against every surface of the wall. She had always wondered what had hid behind those mahogany curtains while she cleaned the ballroom.
It was paintings of the Royals, each elegant and covered in riches. Some rode grand horses, while others simply sat.
To Bea, they all looked so elegant she felt under-dressed. She marveled at the paintings surrounding her.
Her sight landed on a painting of someone she didn't expect to be painted. It was Kit, riding a brown horse with a sword in hand, raised high and mighty.
And then it hit her. Kit was the Prince. The Prince was Kit. She had been dancing with the Prince, the future King!
It felt like the world came crashing down. She stood frozen, gawking at the painting. She could barely hear the click of Kit's boots against the floor as he approached her side.
She mentally cursed herself, running a stream of insults direct towards herself. How did she not notice it sooner! It was obvious now. Kit correcting the Captain, his rich clothes from the castle, why everyone parted as they danced, not joining in.
For heaven's sakes, she was a servant girl! In no way should she even speak to the Prince, let alone dance with him! Oh, if Valina knew, she would be a goner. And Cynthia! Oh Lord, she would freak out.
It would be the scandal of the century, servant girl, the lowest of the lowest, falling for one of the most important figures in the kingdom, the Prince himself. Bea could feel her heartbeat quicken, her breathes becoming more anxious.
Suddenly, the dress felt as if it was dragging her down, the slippers restraints on her feet. The world seemed to spin, her thoughts becoming clouded tornado. Kit's voice brought her back to Earth.
"I hate myself in paintings, don't you?" There was no answer. Bea stood still, jaw hung at the painting, trying to swallow the fact that Kit was the Prince.
She felt aware of Kit's gaze, waiting for her answer. But she couldn't speak, as much as she tried. When she finally did, her words came out slowly, in a befuddled mess.
"Y-your the Prince?" Her voice was shaky, her hands trembling at her sides. She gripped the fabric of her dress, in a desperate attempt to stop her shaking hands. Kit, or now, the Prince let out a breathy laugh, an effortless smile appearing on his features.
"Well not "the" prince exactly. There are a bunch of princes in the world. I'm only "a" prince." Kit said with amusement. Bea let out a laugh, though it was still a little shaky.
She pushed away the fact that Kit was a Prince. Because even though he was a Prince, he was still and would always be the same Kit she enjoyed company with.
