The Swan's Wish

Again

Odette

How I loathed him. His perfect posture, propped neatly against the edge of the chair. There was never a slouch to his shoulders, only his lips. The only part of him that ever seemed relaxed was the lazy smile that hung on his mouth between sentences. The buttons on his shirt were straining against the breadth of his chest, making me wonder what kind of dance partner he would potentially make. A strong one, surely.

Taking in the length of his legs, I was doing the math. In presage, would he be able to sustain? He may prove sturdy enough. A deep sigh escaped from my lungs. It wasn't like I'd ever find out. He had never danced, and I was determined to find a way to abdicate, even if only in my fantasies. If only duty didn't pulse through my head every time my car rolled through town. My people depended on me for my diligence to the Crown... but how wonderful leading my own life would be. And if I could lead it inside the company of dancers I was hoping to join, it would only be that much better.

I guess I really didn't need romance. I had the love of my life in dance already, so it didn't really matter if love ever came in the natural, physical way... But there was a longing there for it. I wanted something akin to what I had read in books, even though I knew it would be a hard path for someone like me.

There were parts of me that watched my mother, my father, my dance instructors, and made mental notes about what not to do inside of relationships. Don't be demanding, like my mother. Don't be absent, like my father. Don't be so critical of one another, like my instructors. Just be happy.

"Odette!" My mother snapped.

Coming forward from my reverie, I felt my finger tips come to rub the place above my eyebrows. My intense scrutiny was going to give me wrinkles. I felt his eyes on me, as if they were waiting a reply. "Yes?" I knew the word was audible, I just wasn't sure at what volume.

"I was inquiring about your studies at the Royal Ballet." His soft tone carried across the room.

When we had made that conversational jump, I would never know. Recovering, I uncrossed my legs in order to match his seated stance. "It's going exceptionally well." No need to add anything else. It wasn't like either of them actually cared.

"I hear you are in a prime position to make the company... even considering your status." His eyes flashed a hint of mischievousness. Was he baiting me, or was it just my extreme annoyance that was coloring this interaction?

Feeling my eyes narrowing to slits, I responded, "I have several options before me at present. Which path will ultimately be determined by the Lords that be that rule and reign over every aspect of my life, I'm sure." I hoped the ice with which I said the words translated to the room. And why would he be spying on me?

"Odette, hold your tongue." My mother's back was erect. "Derek," she turned, a sickly sweet expression pasted to her made-up cheeks. "As I was asking you earlier, about this business we hear of Denmark's immigration policies? What was your influence there, dear?"

I rolled my eyes. His involvement? Beyond sitting in a chair in an overly luxurious boardroom, pretending to bring about foreign and domestic policy with an ounce of authority? It made me sick. All these people made me sick. The bowing to traditions and the scraping to other countries! For once, I just wanted something real.

Fixing the piece of lint stuck to the tip of my tights, I smoothed down the hem of my skirt. The room we were in was one of those preposterous rooms that my mother used for entertaining her most affluent guests. Members of parliament were sometimes select enough to make it through the gilded doors, but mostly it was dignitaries. People that held the upper crust together, that pranced through the elite gossip pages on your local tabloids.

"......has made a huge difference, considering the rate of unemployment. We are slowing down the inflation, and correcting the wage infractions." His hands were moving with each word he spoke, his voice reflecting the supposed passion he held. I watched the way his body very slowly broke from it's rigidness and allowed a slight bit of animation to freely flow from him.

I wondered, in that moment, if he really cared, or if this was a mere act to impress any listening ear. Wasn't everything an act? The way he defended Margaret, for instance. Gag. We all knew what she was: the unimpressive, title-reaching grub. Princess was a loose term for the Germans. Everyone there had a claim to royalty. Barbarians. She wasn't better than a low-ranking viscountess in the gentry here. You could encounter a "princess" there in your local grocery mart.

Those were exhilarating. Stores with nothing but food of every assortment on shelves. I hadn't been in one in years, but just the thought of the biscuits in boxes lining the walls filled me with a knowing sort of attitude. I had seen the other side, and no one here, so far as I thought, knew about it.

"Will you be attending the Wines of the World Festival tonight? We are presenting over 30 wines that have been hand selected from our vineyards in Sussex. Oh, well, and Kent." My mother breathlessly asked the dashing young prince. "I do believe you were informed of the event?"

My head whipped between the pair. Politics, events... I couldn't keep up. My head half rolled toward the direction of the table clock, wanting to know if I could squeeze a nap in this afternoon. I didn't have anywhere to be except for my 6 o'clock instruction with Madame Danilova. Which meant I needed to be back at the academy by four thirty so I could stretch properly. This was a feasible endeavor if these two would clap their yappers.

Derek swung a piercing look in my direction. "Of course," he murmured. "I was under the impression that I would be escorting my lovely soon-to-be fiance." A slow smile spread across his lips, as he landed another expectant look upon my mother.

"OH!" She exclaimed. "Of course! Hear that, Odette? Derek will be taking you!" Her hands came forward to gingerly clasp in front of her face, her eyes beaming under the pound of mascara caked to her lashes.

Fire started to rage in my belly. "No," I ground between clenched teeth. "I've already told you, Mother," I breathed. "That I had instruction with Madame this evening, and there was no way I could attend yet. another. function." Trying to restrain from physical reactions that would aggravate the situation, my fingers dug into the luxe couch cushion so hard I could feel my nails bending.

"You can skip those, dear. It's a waste of time anyways," her callous response threatened to hurl me into a full meltdown.

"Mother, one does not simply skip instruction with the Madame and live to tell about it." I could hear it now. This was a private practice for the Swan in Swan Lake. One of the most famous ballets in the world that I would get to perform in on the Royal Opera Stage. There was no way in b****y heck that she was going to stop me.

"Odette, darling, I don't think I'm being very clear. You will attend the wine tasting, or I will have you removed from that school. Am I understood?" The acerbic glint of her pale blue eyes did more than testify her willingness to finally withdraw me from my precious sanctuary. I sunk back into the couch, defeated. Nodding my agreement, she switched personalities to again charm the pants off my future husband.

Fuming silently, I was determined now more than ever to make Derek Prince of Denmark hate me beyond all feeling.