Encounter - Part 1

'Lying down in bed for two days felt awesome—if you overlook my feet being wrapped in a slimy green ointment and my struggle walking to the bathroom every time I had to pee.'

Gene had enough time to analyze what happened over the past few weeks. Even though she had to fight against her mind for bringing up the prince's kiss every five minutes.

She can't help picturing Brandt's soft lips gently pressing against hers and the warmth of his hand. She might have enjoyed kissing him more if not for the royal healer who was rushed into the room.

'Ok, I really need to focus.'

Her 'destiny' that both Ylva and that voice at the portal were talking about is not fully correct. The king does not want her to marry the prince and she basically needs to make him like her. That dinner a few of days ago was a royal failure. So, she needs to bring her A game tomorrow at the queen's ball. And that's why she is back to Mrs. Gustavson, even though she likes to call her 'The Torturer'.

"Am I dancing alone today?" Gene asks when she doesn't see her usual partner. 

'Poor thing, he probably found out that a few of his bones were broken from all the times I stepped on his feet.'

"No, Lady Holmen. Since the ball is tomorrow, I thought we could try something new." 

The woman has such deep lines in the middle of her forehead that you would think she is always frowning. So, Gene has no idea if this 'something new' is a good thing or if it is going to be the end of her.

"My apologies, my meeting was longer than expected." Brandt walks into the room.

'Crap. The second one then.'

She feels her face heat up at the thought of that kiss again. She hasn't seen him since that night and her heart was not prepared to face him yet.

"No need to apologize, Your Highness." Mrs. Gustavson curtsies. "Are you ready, Gasta?" She looks at the boy sitting at the piano. He is probably Siv's age, if not a year or two older.

"Yes, my lady."

The prince takes Gene's right hand in his and slides his arm around her waist. The proximity fills her head with thoughts, naughty thoughts. She feels the blush spread from her face to her ears.

'I need to focus.'

"Just relax your body and trust me," he utters.

'How am I supposed to relax anything in this position?'

The music starts and the prince swiftly guides their bodies harmoniously. Gene feels like her feet are moving on their own, obeying every move the prince asks of them.

"No frowning, Lady Holmen, smile." Mrs. Gustavson's annoying voice startles her.

"Yes, Mrs. Gustavson."

She forces her lips to curl up before she hears a chuckle. She looks at the prince's face and finds him amused.

"Is my misery funny to you?"

"Misery? Do you hate dancing with me that much?"

"No, I mean…" she stutters, trying to find the right words. But she stops when she feels his shoulders shaking slightly.

"Are you teasing me?" She raises a brow.

'This jerk.'

"Yes," he answers.

Gene pushes him to walk away but he tightens his grip around her waist and continues to dance as if nothing happened.

"I am just glad to see you doing well," he whispers, his warm breath tickling Gene's ear. "Don't overdo it and make me worry again," he adds, making her heart skip a beat and her knees go weak.

'Ok, that was sweet.'

And just like that, the music ends and their bodies move away from each other. The teacher's applause brings Gene back from my reverie.

"Lady Holmen, I am confident that with His Highness, you might actually not embarrass yourself or your teacher."

'Was that a compliment? Probably not, I doubt she knows how to give one.'

"Your Highness," Lord Benson calls from the entrance.

"Yes Shelby, I know," the prince answers with an irritated voice. "I look forward to dancing with you tomorrow, my lady." He pecks Gene's hand and then walks away, followed by his assistant.

"Lady Holmen, let us have one more class tomorrow morning."

"Alright, I will see you tomorrow then, Mrs. Gustafson." Gene curtsies with a smile.

Her smile doesn't fade away as she walks back to her room. A thrilling and warm feeling is filling her chest.

'The prince cares.' Gene's feet halt and, sure enough, her smile disappears. 'Does that mean he cares for me or Siv? And are these feelings mine or Siv's?' 

The questions are unsettling and suffocating. She suddenly finds her feet leading her outside, to the garden, instead of her room.

The late afternoon sun feels amazing on her skin and the light breeze playing with her hair makes this the perfect time of the day for a walk. She lets her feet lead her through the stone paths of the garden. She only stops occasionally to smell the many different flowers along the way.

The more she wanders around the more her thoughts turn into dark and pessimistic day dreams. 

She thinks of asking Ylva about how she dealt with her feelings. The queen told her that she was married back in their world and had a son. Gene is sure she still had feelings for her husband when she found herself here. She wonders how she fell in love with the king.

Suddenly, Gene hears movement close by. She turns around, but all she sees are thick trees all around her.

'Where am I anyway?'

She looks around again and realizes that she is not on the stone path anymore. She walks some more, trying to find the road, but in vain. 

She is too deep into this forest that she had no idea even existed in the palace. She hears rustling again and fear spreads across her body.

'Could it be a wild animal? Oh God, is this how I am going to die in this strange land?'

She takes faster steps, trying not to trip over the roots and whatever else is covering the ground. But her panic takes hold of her body and she finds herself holding her dress up and running as fast as she can. 

Gene glances behind her to make sure nothing is following her when she slams into something, or more accurately, someone. The man groans at the impact and they both fly to the ground. The fall knocks the air out of her lungs.

"Lady Holmen?" Gene hears the man ask as she struggles to inhale.

'Just my luck that in the middle of a deserted forest, I run into him.'

King Ronald.

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