Spellbound

Chapter 6

    Tyrion Lios was in a foul, foul mood. So foul, in fact, that he lashed out at the lords and ladies that approached him with interest. They’d all backed away with the same reaction when he cursed them out, gasping as if he’d killed a man, but Tyrion couldn’t care less. Not when he was this furious.

    In the courtyard by the fountain, Tyrion spotted the root of his rage. A girl wearing a pink dress with her tawny brown hair tightly tied up with a series of complicated braids.

    “Pria!” Tyrion snarled. He grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the circle of ladies she was with. “Were you in my room?”

    Pria gasped. “Tyrion!” she shrieked. Her high-pitched shrill grated Tyrion’s ears. “What are you doing?”

    “Answer the damn question. You were in my room again, weren’t you? You were the one who broke the frame. Do you know how many specimens you’ve ruined?”

    “T-Tyrion…” Pria’s eyes glazed over with tears. She sniffed and brought out her handkerchief. “They were only butterflies. Why are you so mad?”

    “Only butterflies?” Tyrion fumed. “Well, now. That just proves what an unsophisticated brat you are, doesn’t it? Have some class, Princess. Respect for someone else’s belonging can go a long way.”

    Pria was crying now, and the circles of nobles that were in earshot had quietened down to watch the spectacle. Nothing unusual there.

    “H-how could you?” Pria sobbed, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. “How could you say that to me, Tyrion? It was only an accident.”

    “Like hell it was!” Tyrion’s grip tightened. “You’ve been trying to get your hands on them all year round. You think I don’t know what you’re trying to pull?”

    Pria whimpered. “Please stop. It hurts.”

    “Hey, let go of her!” A girl pushed through the circle of people she’d been in and stormed over. A shorter girl Tyrion recognized to be Ellaine Knight grabbed her hand and tugged.

    “Senya, don’t,” she pleaded quietly.

    But the tall, black-haired girl shrugged her friend off and stomped towards Tyrion and Pria. She pulled Pria’s wrist from Tyrion’s grip and came between them. Her eyes were ablaze with a fury that matched Tyrion’s, and for a second, he was dumbstruck.

    “You don’t treat ladies like that!” she snapped. “If you have something to discuss with her, why don’t you do so in a more civilized way instead of lashing out like some feral dog?”

    The shock was wearing off, and the rage returned in waves. “Who do you think you are? Mind your own business, bitch.”

    The crowd bristled. Tyrion knew he would regret his outburst later, but he didn’t care. These girls were collectively stoking the fire, and he was full to the brim with oil.

    The girl called Senya was unfazed. “You think you get to do whatever you want because you’re high class? There was absolutely no need for you to be so aggressive.”

    “You don’t even know what this is about,” Tyrion snapped. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand!”

    “It’s not my fault you brought it up in public.” She crossed her arms. Pria sniffled. “Whatever the case, it looked to me like you were attacking her.” She pulled back her lips in a sneer. “Have some class, Princess.”

    His temper flared. Tyrion had never wanted to punch a girl in the face as much as he did now. He could feel the steam rising from his cheeks, and he was almost certain his hair would catch on fire in a second. He needed to leave before he did something he would regret even more. Somehow, the smallest drop of rationale trickled into his mind, and he decided removing himself from the situation would be the best course of action. It was humiliating enough as it was.

    “This isn’t over, Pria,” Tyrion growled. “And you! Stay out of my sight.”

    “Gladly,” she bit back.

    Tyrion turned his back and stormed away before he had the chance to knock her teeth out. Who the hell was she? What right did she have to butt in like that? Ignoring the whispers from the parting nobles, Tyrion went inside the palace in a fouler mood than he’d been in before.

    It was a mistake taking Billan’s offer to stay in the palace. Tyrion should have declined. He should have insisted on staying at his estate and only entering the palace for the ball itself.

    “Mingle with the others,” Billan had said. “It’s going to be a great experience,” he said. Tyrion snorted. Billan couldn’t have been more wrong.

    Tyrion turned a corner and almost ran into someone. He nearly snapped but bit back any insults in time when he saw a warm smile and a familiar, friendly face.

    “Tyrion?” Misa the witch said. “You’ve grown quite a bit since I last saw you. How is your mother?”

    Tyrion’s anger subsided only because of the respect and affection he had for the witch. She had been the miracle his family needed when his mother was deathly ill. Whatever magical remedy she had used to cure his mother had also strengthened her considerably. And for that, Tyrion was forever indebted her.

    “She’s fine, thanks to you.”

    “That’s good. Will I see her at the ball this year?”

    Tyrion nodded. “She’s keen to come. Unfortunately, she’ll only be able to attend on the third day.”

    “Well, I’m glad she’s doing well. I’m sorry, but I need to get going. The palace is always busy this time of year.”

    “Yes, yes, of course.” Tyrion smiled and stepped aside to let her pass. At least, he wasn’t feeling as foul as he had mere minutes ago.

    He rushed up the stairs and hurried to his chambers. The door was still open from when he’d stomped out to find the culprit. Tyrion didn’t bother turning on the light. A slit of sunlight seeping from a gap in the curtains was enough for him to see.

    Shutting the door behind him, Tyrion walked towards the bed. On the floor next to it was the shattered frame of butterflies he’d collected in the past eight years. He fell to his knees, and he picked up the wooden board. Beneath it were the butterflies, their wings torn and ruined, except for one that lay still among the shards of glass. His fingers shook as they clipped it and lifted it from the ground.

    The silver butterfly with emeralds embedded on its wings lay cold against his palm. A thin strip of metal protruded from under it.

    “I’m sorry,” Tyrion whispered, closing his fingers over the hairpin. “I’ll replace them as soon as I can.” He traced the engraving on a metallic label at the bottom of the board that once held the butterflies.

    For the girl with butterflies in her hair.

 ________________________

    Senya glared at the dirty blond head disappearing into the palace before she turned around to check on the girl he was harassing. She was of average height—shorter than Senya—and her eyes had turned red from crying. Her cheeks were splotchy, and she tightly clung onto a white handkerchief. Sniffling, she pressed the cloth to her nose.

    “Are you okay?” Senya asked.

    “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, dabbing away her tears. “Thank you, but you really didn’t need to get involved.”

    “What an absolutely horrid man,” Senya said. “You shouldn’t give people like him any of your time.”

    “Senya.” Ellaine tugged at Senya’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

    “Ellaine, is that you?” The girl—Pria if Senya had heard correctly—looked at Ellaine.

    Ellaine bowed. “Princess. I’m sorry about that.”

    “Princess?” Senya practically shrieked. “You’re really a princess! Oh, I’m sorry!” She hastily bowed. “I-I thought he was only saying that to be condescending. I should have known.”

    “Yes.” Pria sighed. All signs of her distress diminished. “Thank you again for stepping in, but I will repeat myself. Do not interfere next time.”

    “Excuse me?” Senya stepped back and blinked.

    “Tyrion is right. It was no place for you to get involved. I appreciate the help, but I can handle myself just fine.” Pria squared her shoulders as if she was coming out of her sobbing shell. “Senya, was it? I haven’t seen you here before. How did you get inside? It’s invitation only.”

    Senya struggled to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. The first thought that came into her mind was what a true brat Pria was. She somehow maintained a neutral expression. “I do have an invitation, Princess. I just haven’t been attending until now.”

    “Is that so?” Pria eyed her from head to toe. “Ellaine. Get yourself some friends with actual class. It’s clear this girl comes from a middle-class family. I don’t know what strings you pulled to get her an invitation, but make sure it doesn’t happen next year.”

    Senya let out a scoff in sheer disbelief. She only held herself back because Ellaine tightened her grip in warning.

    “Excuse us, Princess.”

    This time, Senya gave into the tug, and she allowed Ellaine to lead her away from the haughty princess. She could feel the eyes of the other nobles following her every step, and she flushed. When they were a good distance away, Senya tried to make sense of what had just happened.

    “What was that?” Senya said to Ellaine. “I’ve never been so insulted in my life! Does she think being a princess is everything in this world?”

    “That was Princess Pria,” Ellaine explained. “She’s the daughter of King Rikar, as spoiled as a royal brat could possibly be. The man was Tyrion Lios. His family owns an estate in Rowemor. His mother is from Teillus, and they lived in her country in his early life before they moved to his father’s home. He has a temper worse than yours, though he’s usually good at keeping it in, and a peculiar habit of collecting butterflies.”

    “Butterflies?” Senya recalled the argument. She vaguely remembered them saying something about butterflies. “Why?”

    Ellaine shrugged. “A hobby, I suppose. Anyway, the point is, Princess Pria has been trying to woo Tyrion for the better part of two years now. She’s been quite persistent, but it seems she may have pushed him a little too far this time. He’s very particular when it comes to his collection.”

    “Why would anyone want to woo him?” Senya scowled. “He’s so crass and rude. I can’t imagine having him less than a meter away from me. Unpleasant is what he is.”

    “Yes, he hasn’t had the best reputation around. Still, he’s quite close to Prince Billan. I think that’s the only reason anyone tolerates him.”

    “Prince Billan?” Senya’s brows knit together in concern. “You mean the one Veira fancies?”

    Ellaine nodded. “The very same.”

    “Oh, dear.” Senya shook her head. “I can’t imagine what he’ll be like to have a friend like Tyrion. Do you think we should discourage Veira from pursuing him?”

    “Prince Billan is nothing like Tryion. Don’t worry.” Ellaine waved a hand. “They’re as different as night and day.”

    “Still…”

    “Senya.” Ellaine held her hips as if she was scolding a child. “Let Veira be the mother of the group. Don’t you start with it, too. I don’t think I can handle another worrier. Veira can handle herself. She’s stronger than she looks.”

    “Okay,” Senya relented. “If you say so.”

    A sudden uproar drew the girls’ attention to the northern building. A decent amount of people was gathering near the stairway, yelling out what Senya could vaguely recognize to be greetings. She even caught a glimpse of Princess Pria’s frilly pink dress.

    “What’s that about?” Senya asked.

    Ellaine shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe they’re greeting one of the royal children or another family that just arrived.”

    Senya hummed in agreement. She wasn’t particularly interested in knowing who it was, especially if they were all going to be as prissy as Pria. She was at the palace to enjoy her time with her friends. Yes, her father was right. There was no place for Senya to mingle with any of the nobles here (other than the Knights). But, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to make the trip the most memorable experience that she could possibly have.

    “Look, there are guards,” Ellaine observed. “It must be a royal council member.”

    “The royal council.” Senya’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t imagine meeting a king or queen. She saw the guards parting the crowd for whoever was passing through. “Maybe we should go greet them.”

    “I don’t know.” Ellaine shuddered. “I’ve been content to see them from afar.”

    “Don’t be silly, Ellaine. Come on.” Senya grabbed Ellaine’s hand and dragged her to the growing crowd. She managed to push her way through enough until she could peek over a short man and see who it was. Pria had been able to slip through, likely because she was a princess, and she was proudly walking alongside a slender woman with shiny royal garments who was carrying a little boy. Senya’s eyes widened. Were those diamond studs on her sleeves?

    There was someone else there, too, obscured by the queen from Senya’s angle, but she caught a glimpse of a dress and long black hair. Before Senya could get a better look, someone shoved her back with an elbow to her gut. Grunting in pain, Senya backed away. She scowled and stayed a good distance away from the crowd, Ellaine by her side.

    “Well, that wasn’t worth it,” Senya said. “I only saw Princess Pria, a queen and her son, and someone else. Another queen, I think.”

    “I told you,” Ellaine replied. “It’s rare that we get to speak to them. Only at the ball do we get a chance, but even then, they always have an audience. It’s near impossible.”

    “That’s disappointing.” Senya sighed at the sight of the guards disappearing into the opposite building. “Well, it’s been quite an experience to come out here. A palace courtyard filled with filthy rich people. It’s not as…exciting as I thought it’d be. Let’s go find Liane and Veira. I want to see the other garden.”

    “Oh, good idea! I think Veira might be in our room. I don’t know where Liane is.”

    “That’s fine. We can just find her later.”

    Forgetting about the unpleasant experience, Senya linked her arms with Ellaine and left the courtyard of nobles to find her other friends.