*THE DANCER'S POV* - THE NIGHT OF THE ATTACK (BEFORE CHAPTER 1)

He looked absolutely ravishing.

I stood near the buffet of delicacies and beverages, raking my gaze from his curly brown tendrils of hair, all the way down his strikingly sharp suit - the popping veins peeking out on his wrists particularly keeping my attention.

Blue velvet ropes around those wrists, tightly holding him to the railing of his bed while he was breathlessly prisoned - how would he look then?

I guess I was going to have to find out for myself.

I placed the plate of pancakes dripping with melted dark chocolate on the table, and brushed my hands together.

I gave the palatable brown liquid edging near the plate one last look, thinking about how it would taste if it was drizzled against the Prince's neck instead of on a plain pancake.

Patience, Jena.

I tentatively licked the pieces of dried sweetness around my lips and started forward; the glassy steps of my sandals prowling towards the gliding set of females.

They smiled welcomingly as I approached their circle at the centre of the hall, clearly thinking I was a dancer just like the rest of them - here to put on a graceful show at the royal ball of the month.

In the count of three seconds, I quickly shut my eyes tightly and let myself believe that too.

"Ladies," I greeted with a smile, hiding the urge to grit my teeth and glower. "Are we prepared to wave our wands and put the walking crowns around us in a trance?" 

Apparently, royal dancers at Yandestine made it a point to speak like that - powdered sugar spiked within their pretty words.

"We have finished warming up with the final instructions, we're getting started in thirty seconds." A red-haired dancer announced with glee.

The other females giggled with excited nods, as twenty of them split to my right, five stayed in the middle with me, and the remaining ten cornered themselves to the left.

The music was going to begin.

I remembered his words.

"Do not speak to the Prince before he does and do not let him know your eyes are seeking him out before he finds out for himself."

Remaining at the centre with the small group of five females, I reigned in those words in my head and slowly unclenched my palm. I was positioned at the front of the line, with similar but longer lines of dancers on my either side, prepared to begin the piece once the tune rose.

A torpid melody glissaded towards us, and once my ears caught onto the rise in pitch before it happened, my feet hesitantly began to move.

Every dignified head immediately turned in my direction.

I remembered her words.

"A dancer - a true one - does it like breathing. She doesn't need to stage a performance, think about it, or pay attention to anything but herself. Whether it be a raging fire, a tsunami, or a brutal storm, she'll breathe her way through it. Dance through it. You may suffocate, Jena, but you dance to numb the pain."

The earliest chords slid out of the violins, and my arms fluttered upwards as I felt the allied movement of other hands behind me.

I'm ready.

The curves shaping the sides of my hips became beautifully apparent, as they started swaying at a deliberately slow pace, falling into a sensual quiver within moments.

I consciously lost bits of myself to each ancient word slithering along with the music, and my eyelids languidly closed themselves as I leaned my head over another dancer's shoulder. The delicate action was duplicated across the lines, as the sight of our faces momentarily disappeared to the spectators.

This wasn't a graceful piece, where we were traditionally compelled to cover every inch of our legs with the thickness of our skirts. This was a piece, where we were given the freedom to express our wishes - the music's wishes - however we could.

Tonight, I had the opportunity to bend that splendid courtesy as I pleased.

I lifted the ends of my golden skirt upwards, towards my thighs, teasing every male in close proximity.

The corner of my eye saw the body of a female adjusting her dress with a disguised blush, and I internally smirked.

Maybe even the females too.

When the twinkling crinkles reached the edge of my knee, I knew the exact drop I needed was coming.

The hall's chandeliers let their lights vanish, and the only source of brightness became focused right at the centre, all around my circle.

It's time.

I swung my leg across the air with a perfectly practised fluidity, and the thick outer layer of my skirt cowered away from my body as I sprung it off into the darkness.

What remained was the last layer, the openly transparent one that daringly exposed every fingerbreadth of the skin beginning from the arches of my hidden clit to my feet.

Locked gasps withered from every corner of the place.

The blissful beat dropped like a singular bead of rain invited onto a cube of ice - it was ultimately water, but that one drop of water all on its own seemed so much more appealing than the whole cube of ice.

That's what it felt like. The music that flowed before was indeed pleasant, but once that change of rhythm happened, everything felt much more different.

My body sang to the continuous rising in tune, my fingers alluringly traced itself across my neck and chest - a dance in itself - while my feet twirled with the other females as we elegantly blended into eachother's spaces. We formed a flawless loop, that changed its shape perpetually as the song's last set of notes came in.

The melody turned violent with a cause that didn't settle, and neither did I.

Heavenly strides of the females raced against the concept of time, and we knew every pair of eyes watching us were unknowingly giving away control on their sense of time too.

But the pair of eyes I came for, King Sebastian's blessed heir that I was dancing for - he was really the only royalty I cared about.

As my own eyes flittered across the room, closely shadowed by my flutters, I just knew I had his attention.

Suddenly, the beat leapt to the highest note, and every one of us cast away the counting of our feet's pace and spun our bodies at the exact same second.

We had the ending of the piece etched into our minds, and with that reminder, we returned to our original positions without missing a breadth of a beat.

My hands came back down near my heavily breathing breasts, and I crossed them over my shoulders like every other dancer, as we dipped our heads together.

I closed my eyes.

I opened them.

I have him.

The dancers had already scattered off to mingle with the guests that were full of appreciation and admiral, and I was left standing there at the centre, with a certain male's eyes curiously staring right at me.

I knew he was looking at me. I knew he was waiting for me to return his gaze.

And that's exactly why I didn't.

I nonchalantly walked off towards another man that made it painfully palpable that he was waiting for my approach. I made sure to engage his eyes towards my legs as I held my see-through skirt in my hands, when it glided across the marble floors.

"Absolutely beautiful! I've never seen a piece like that, and I think I can strongly vouch for your talent because I have been to so many balls, yet I've never come across something like that. The way your feminine parts overtook the music and made itself the master of it, it was so..."

His voice faded out after I nodded with an acknowledging smile, easily detecting that he was the son of a sub-ruler of one of Yandestine's villages. He held himself with a level of power but there were so many surges of insecurity struggling within his eyes.

That definitely didn't stop him from ceaselessly blabbering, though it was nice that he was making his intentions very clear.

He wanted me in his bed, and he wanted it soon.

What wasn't nice was, however, he thought it was possible with a few flattering words which truly weren't flattering enough and hilariously dirty gazes focused on my chest.

"Rince Janion. I hope you're doing well but your wife requires help with your three sons in the bathroom. I'm afraid the little boys may flood the private place if you don't attend to them soon-"

The obviously embarrassed male cleared his throat hurriedly, cutting her off. "Thank you for informing me, Princess Aaliyah. I truly appreciate it." He turned to me and started to bring his hands near my shoulder but the Princess immediately coughed near his face, sputtering the words 'peeing sons' and 'wife'.

I smirked. Apparently, I lost my chance to be the despiteful homewrecker I didn't even know I had.

I turned to see my saviour after the married man had left, quickly descending into a graceful curtsy. "Your highness. Thank you for intruding. Do not let him know but I sort of needed that."

The beautiful female laughed knowingly, and she really did have a lovely face. Her light brown skin was messily framed with tresses of straight brown hair which also had litters of blonde shades here and there. My attention naturally flew to her eyes, and the telling twinkle in those tiny orbs made it seem like she was constantly protecting the world's secrets.

But, the strange thing was, her tender smirk told me she didn't keep it to herself because it was the noble thing to do. It very much seemed like she would do anything if it humoured her.

"You seemed so disinterested that it was painful to watch. I had to jump in and besides," She tilted her head and subtly gestured at the Prince of Yandestine. "My brother is too invested in his 'duties' and mildly creepy 'search for love' to get over himself and approach you."

I shifted my sight to the Prince and made my eyes inquisitively widen as if I was seeing him for the first time.

Search for love? That is going to be a problem I really don't need.

But I didn't question her words because that was one of the many things I wasn't sent to do.

"The Prince, your highness? I don't think he'd want to come near a mere dancer like me. Perhaps it's better to leave him in his reveries, he does seem very tense." I softly whispered, timidly tucking my hair behind my ear.

It strangely felt gratifying - insulting myself when I knew it wasn't the truth at all.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to try because I can see you're getting bored of certain married men with numerous babies," She smartly pointed out, drawing a chuckle from me. "At least you can get yourself - and me - entertained if my brother rejects you."

Rejection? I'd rather get stabbed than meet that impossible consequence.

"We'll see what the night brings, your highness."

"We shall. You seem very familiar, dancer. Let's hope we meet again." She brushed past my shoulder as she strode towards a soldier, leaving me curious.

Curious about what?

About the many ways, I could murder her father - King Sebastian Alistair Maguire.

Though that sadly had to wait.

I needed to focus if I wanted to leave my mark on his son. I wanted to leave a mark so potent that it would never leave the Prince's mind, no matter where he went or what he did.

I sharpened my gaze on him, and I slowly started to walk near him, my fingers tightly pressed together.

Before I realised it, I was standing next to him while his back was turned away from me.

I remembered the words once again, flashing it through my head one last time to keep a firm grip on it.

"Grasp, seize, and quickly release, as if you never had a hold."

I picked up a glass and started to pour some wine into it, softly rubbing the fine outlines of its design.

"You danced quite well. The choreography was up to a great standard, it really was a fine piece to watch."

I turned with a prepared smile.

The brown pair of eyes greeted me.

My calculated breaths abruptly stopped.

There was a gap of few seconds I was allowed to form a reaction, and I held onto it as I flickered my gaze from the surprisingly welcoming pools in his eyes to the easily stretched out smile that didn't wear a mask.

It was so genuine.

It irked to me to no ends, because I just couldn't meet his eyes for longer than a second.

I rapidly gathered myself once those few seconds were over, and dipped my head respectfully, purposefully fixing my hesitant survey near his lips.

"Your majesty. Thank you for the kind words. It's an honour to meet you."

He shook his head with a soft chortle. "Not quite yet. I'm still a Prince, so I'm yet to be worthy of the higher title."

"I know, your majesty. But I feel it truly suits you better. It also sounds lovely on my tongue."

He quirked a brow. "I don't understand if you're trying to flatter me or somehow go against my statement."

I laughed, softly throwing my head back. "I'm sure the latter possibility is a crime, so I don't think I'm going against anything."

He cracked another smile. "That's very reassuring," He slowly raked his eyes from my neck to my hip, stopping right above my pelvis. "May I know your name, dancer?"

Grasp.

I stared at him for a few moments, and shook my head.

"No, your majesty. I won't tell you my name."

He tilted his head questioningly. "Why not? Is there a problem?"

A genuine spark of concern shaped his expression.

I put down the glass of wine back on the table, and stepped closer to him.

"Do you want to know what my problem is?" I angled my head towards his ears and whispered, "My problem is that I really find myself unable to do this. I can't stand here and converse with you like I have to do it out of respect. I can't simply smile at you, shake your hand and just leave while another female does what I want to do."

He gently grasped my fingers, placing his thumb over my wrist. "I see. But, another female would tell me her name. I won't touch you if you refuse me that. " A gentle smirk decorated his lips as his eyebrows arched up together.

Seize.

"Very well, your majesty. You can call me Hayati." I said, giving him my middle name.

He nodded and spun around, leaving me confused for a moment. He started to walk away, reaching a far pillar and turned back around.

His face under the dim lights of the corridor, away from the crowd - it was mesmerisingly appealing.

From a distance, he smoothly brought his fingers up and held two of them up, and then changed it to one as he pointed them upwards.

I narrowed my eyebrows confusedly. Then, I understood.

Two flights of stairs, the only chamber down the passage leaving that part was his.

I returned his smile and picked up my glass of wine, and slowly took a sip.

"Grasp, seize, and release." I lowly whispered to myself, tightening my hold on the glass.

Time to rip his clothes off, Jena.

***

The song I listened to during this chapter: 'Love me harder' by the Weekend and Ariana Grande but the slowed version.

Tell me what you think immediately! I went through many headaches to write this chapter, so I demand thoughts, haha. What's your impression on 'the dancer'?

Stay blessed and loved,
OceanaCamerons 🌹🌹🌹