Fielle turned bright red. “A-Am I?!”
Lynette had never seen Fielle express her feelings so openly before, and it was this that convinced her.
“Am I...in love with Prince Tomas...?” Now that Lynette had broached the idea, Fielle recognized for the first time that this might indeed be love. Still, this was so sudden. She could barely believe it. Was she really in love with Prince Tomas? The sheer thought of it set her heart pounding and her cheeks turning even redder. A-A-Am I really in love with him?! She felt guilty, because she was no good at anything and he was an absolutely remarkable person. And yet her heart couldn’t stop thundering whenever she thought about him, and her mind was filled with little else these days.
Seeing Fielle in such a state resolved Lynette to make a decision. Fielle’s parents, Lynette knew, would almost certainly not approve of this match, as Tomas’s home country did not boast the cultural or economic strength to attract Daeman’s attention. Fielle’s parents were not terribly concerned about who would succeed the crown; if worst came to worst, it could always pass to the king’s nephew. Instead, they made every effort to sell Fielle off to the most appropriate suitor (read: the highest bidder) from the passel of princes all vying for her hand. Knowing this, Lynette vowed to support Fielle’s first true love.
“Very well,” said Lynette. “I am going to try something!” She then swept from the room.
Twenty minutes later, Lynette returned to pick up Fielle, guided her to a room, and politely knocked on the door. A male voice answered from inside, “Come in.” It was Prince Tomas’s voice. Fielle’s heart skipped a beat. Even though she had known this was probably going to be his room, hearing his voice inviting her to come in made her feel extra nervous.
“Um...” she said. She forced her voice, hoarse with nerves, to sound calm. “It’s Fielle.”
“Fielle?” The door opened readily enough, and Tomas poked his head out. “Oh, good to see you again.” He didn’t have a servant with him, Fielle judged, which meant he must have opened the door himself.
Seeing him sooner than she had expected made her heart leap, but that was the only part of her that did. Fielle was not athletic enough for skipping about and frolicking. Sure, everyone else thought she could do anything, but she alone knew this couldn’t have been further from the truth, particularly when it came to physical activities. Sometimes even speed walking tripped her up, and as for running...best if we don’t get into that. It was a byproduct of having been sheltered her whole life, Fielle thought. Much to her relief, however, her inadequacies prevented her from acting like a fool in front of the prince.
Then she realized she had no time to be relieved. Here she was, right in front of Tomas, and she had no idea what to say! “Um...” she began. “Uh...” Her tongue tied itself in knots.
“There’s no need to stand out in the hall,” Tomas said with a gentle smile. “Would you like to come in and talk?”
And thus Fielle was invited to share the break with Tomas. (Lynette, tactfully, opted to wait outside.)
Tomas prepared her a cup of tea. He’s even making me tea, Fielle thought as she fidgeted on the sofa.
“So, what did you think about the party?” Tomas asked her. He set the cup down in front of her and sat across from her.
Her mind went blank. If she was talking to any other person, she wouldn’t even have had to think before giving a socially appropriate response, but now, the words wouldn’t come out. “Um...” she began. “S-So, what’s going on with you and Renéeth...?” Wait, how did that slip out? What am I saying? she panicked. It is way, way too suspicious to bring her up out of the blue! Oh no, oh no, what do I do now? Not only was she tongue-tied despite normally being a wonderful speaker, but to pick the worst possible topic on top of that! What if he thought she was weird? What would she do then?
But Prince Tomas only chuckled and gently reassured her in a calm, slow voice. “Oh, you know Renéeth? She’s in a bad situation right now, I hear. She turned down several princes who asked for her hand, so they began spreading awful rumors about her. Now she’s being left out because her friends are jealous of her. Everyone gives her the stink eye, and no one will talk to her at parties anymore. When I saw her tonight, I figured I should go up to her and say hi. Sure, she does come off a bit strong, but she’s really nice.”
This information hit Fielle like a sledgehammer, leaving her dumbfounded. I am the actual worst! she thought. I was judging her based solely on slander. I’m terrible. All throughout the party, Fielle had entertained feelings of jealousy by imagining that Renéeth was some sort of temptress trying to seduce Prince Tomas, but she was completely wrong. The only wicked woman here was Fielle, for all her messed-up thinking. And just like that, she began to cry. She felt horribly guilty even being here and wanted to run away. She was mortified to be such a unsightly person in front of such good people as Prince Tomas and Lady Renéeth.
Turning red as she cried, Fielle mumbled, “Um, I...I should go now.” She wanted to disappear into thin air, even though it made her sad to leave without talking to him more. Also, what was he going to think about her leaving so suddenly? He’d definitely think she was weird now, but she had no other choice. It was better this way. She wanted to be out of there as soon as possible.
Fielle got up to run for the door when her darn clumsiness reared its ugly head and made her trip over absolutely nothing at all. She stumbled and began to fall. Her brain registered that she was falling and then, being no good for anything but worrying over situations like this, launched into imagining what could be going through Tomas’s mind right now. Considering how she showed up out of nowhere, immediately made to leave, and then promptly fell over, she figured she knew the answer: Weirdo.
However, Fielle only made it so far as to lurch forward when Prince Tomas grabbed her, stopping the fall.
“Oh man,” he said as he almost sighed. “You really are something else.” And then, ignoring how tall Fielle was for a girl, he easily pulled her up into his arms. His eyes met hers as he held her like a child. He didn’t look disgusted or amused but instead regarded her tenderly.
“You never end up saying what you actually want to, do you? That’s not good, you know. People won’t know what you mean unless you tell them.”
His words took Fielle’s breath away. They were like a magic spell. By saying that she couldn’t express what she wanted to say, he had expressed Fielle’s inexpressible feelings to a T.