Skip to main content

An Arranged Marriage - 3




    There was something familiar about the prince – something that Ilona couldn’t quite put her finger on.  She puzzled over it as she followed him into the next dance.  Was it his name?  Or something in his eyes?  Who was he?

    “How do you find your ball, princess?  I hope you enjoy dancing -- there seems to be an unending supply of partners waiting for your hand.”  His eyes twinkled as he nodded toward the crowd of eager suitors.

    “Have you been to Hanadil before?”  Ilona puckered her eyebrows.  She was sure she had never seen him before…and yet…

    Detlef's eyes sought hers.  “Do you remember?”

    Ilona pulled back ever so slightly to study his face.  “No.”

    He grasped her hand and spun her.  “No, I didn’t expect you would.”  He nodded toward the wall, where another handsome raven-haired man lounged.  “I and my two older brothers visited when you were a very little girl.  My oldest brother is here tonight.  The middle brother is already married.”  He spun her again.  “I have but one small request of you, princess.  If you are to dance two dances with the North Country, let them both be with me.  Leave my brother out of this.”

    Ilona laughed.  “Are you protecting him or me?”

    “Both.”  An enigmatic smile flickered across his face.  “You shall not have to dance with a self-seeking prince.  And he shall not have to face his little brother’s wrath.”

    Ilona pursed her lips, suddenly sober.  “I’m afraid I shall be dancing with a great many self-seeking princes over the next few days.”

    “Then may God grant you wisdom to discern.”

    The song ended, and he led her slowly toward the throne.  “Terribly short dances, don’t you think?  I think it’s a conspiracy to give every man a chance to dance with you.”

    Ilona laughed again.  “It is very likely, I admit.”  He released her hand and she climbed the steps toward her parents.

    “Was that Rowan’s youngest boy?” Her papa squinted at the retreating dark-haired figure.

    “It is.  Do you know him?” Ilona took her seat beside the king, hoping her suitors would give her a moment to breathe.

    “Rowan had some civil unrest in his country over ten years ago.  He sent his three boys here until he had sorted it out.  The youngest gave us a terrible fright – went completely missing for a day and a half.  He was an adventurous lad.”  Her papa shook his head over the memory, but his eyes twinkled.

    “Your highness, may I present…”  Another crier stood before her, and behind him stood a balding ambassador who looked eager to dance.

    Ilona sighed.

    Her papa winked at her.  “One more hour, sweet girl, and then we will retire for the night.  Take the time to talk to as many as you can until then.”

      She stood up and kissed her papa’s forehead.  “And so my royal duties call me away to dance with bald-headed men.”  Then she followed the ambassador to the floor.
(by Esther Brooksmith)

Labels

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Goodbye and God Be With You

It's rather fitting that some things come to a close on this day -- the last day of the year. I submitted my last entry into the Rooglewood contest this morning.  I can hardly believe it took me until the day of the deadline to send it in because I'm usually earlier than that.  And, even with the extra time I took, I still felt a little bit like maybe I could have done better if I had more time. But there was no feeling of regret when I hit "send."  Mostly it was just a prayer that Rooglewood would hear the heart of the message when they read it and that maybe, if I win, they could help me bring the full potential out of my little story.  And there was also a feeling, after working on these stories for more than six months, that it felt good to close that chapter and move on to the next one. I did it.  I wrote them.  And I'm really proud of them. Last year, the act of hitting "send" on my contest entry catapulted me into an anticipatory state....
18 comments
Read more

The Countdown: Eight Days

Eight days.  Do you know what that means?  Barely over a week.  Tomorrow will be one week from the announcement date. Are you excited? I am. So, today, I want to talk to those who wrote something for the contest, whether or not you entered it in the end. What made you start writing your story?  What was the first inkling of an idea that tickled your brain?  What was it that you liked about your premise?  As you wrote, did you have a favorite character or a favorite scene?  And are you glad you wrote it down?  Do you feel like you learned and grew in your ability as a writer as you tried out things for this contest? And, if your story isn't included in this year's Rooglewood anthology (either because you didn't submit it or because it didn't fit with the other four stories selected), what will you do with it?  Will you market it elsewhere?  Or will you lock it away in a drawer?
20 comments
Read more

Wherein I Still Have My Nose and Ears

     I decided to take the plunge.  I was going to chop a plot thread out of AAM so the story would fit in the contest word length restrictions.  I saved my old version and set up a copy for me to modify.      Stories are like woven cloth.  Each plot thread is woven into the entire story.  So if I decide to cut a character or a side-theme, I have to go through the whole book, chopping out the references to it.  This leaves gaping holes and sometimes it looks like the whole story is going to unravel.  Everywhere I chop, I have to readjust the whole scene to keep the flow.  It's a rather ticklish procedure.      Over the dinner table, I mentioned that I was chopping a sub-plot.  My younger sister protested loudly (she hasn't read it, but I previously told her the general idea).  Then my mom (who also hasn't read it) offered to read it and tell me what she thought could and couldn't be chopped. ...
7 comments
Read more