The Prince of Almond Manor

by Gregory Jonathan Scott

  When he stepped into brighter light at the top of the stairs, he looked down and noticed a few heads had turned toward him with held gazes.

  Soon after, whispering flowed around the room in a rush and immediately set the rest of the heads in motion to look his way. Breathy gasps and pointing fingers had come with whispering, “Who is that? Where did he come from? And why is he here?”

  He felt his face catch fire. He was burning up. Proving anxious.

  Oakland brought no child with him to force upon the prince, and he clearly wasn’t a female if that was what the man wanted. Oakland could tell by expressions circling the room that most of the crowd thought he was out of place. It was almost as though they were threatened by his staggering existence.

  He gripped the pendant with his ringed hand. “Father, give me strength,” he whispered to his dad as well as the lord above.

  Since he was inside the Manor, leaving the ballroom was no longer a healthy plan. He was there to stay. Trapped. Oakland had been sent to that place for a reason and by what his guidance fairy had told him, he was going to find his true mate and lifelong companion under the very roof he was standing under. Would it be Deklan, or somebody else?

  Oakland had been horrified by the selection of companions in front of him. His heart was definitely not about to say yes to any of them. He continued to stand still while looking beyond the powdery mist that was taking over the large room. He coughed a little, feeling as though his lungs were about to burst. Too much talc, and when he thought about where most of it had come from, he coughed again, that time harder.

  Down below he could see many female faces that were wrestling with clouds of what he presumed were starchy powders with added floral fragrances. Those meant to disguise feminine hygiene. The lacey fans they held were without a doubt waving away the clouds in front of them or were used to blow away the many floral odors that were combined into one bad smell.

  Oakland spotted Deklan’s mother and father leaning into one another at the opposite end of the room. Mister Royal had a finger pointed straight at him, giving belief to Oakland the man was asking who he was and why he had come alone to a party for his son.

  In front of the podium where the Royal’s were seated, Oakland saw Deklan awkwardly dancing at full arm’s length with a pale white fleshy red headed girl who showed off a split-toothed grin. The orange and white cream puff gown she had on was clashing badly with her bright red hair. The pattern made him dizzy, bringing about a feeling of sickness. Oakland could tell she wasn’t of any interest to Deklan. His exaggerated body language and forced distance between the two had made that clear. Deklan seemed cordial, but understanding his politeness, Oakland knew that was why he put himself through the miss fitted partnership.

  Oakland had seen Deklan close up before, but that time dressed sharply in formal wear, he was fantastically stunning beyond belief—like a true Prince Oakland knew he was. Oakland could easily tell that while keeping focus on his handsome face and bright eyes.

  It was known that the irises go through bouts of stress when one spots another person they find attractive, and Oakland knew his had gone spiral crazy when he spotted that man.

  Oakland’s heart pounded rapidly beneath his ribcage, on the verge of busting through and losing rhythm. For a moment, he thought he’d lose consciousness if he continued staring at Deklan. The man was truly Prince worthy, looking much different than he had during their previous encounters, and Oakland was sure Deklan would find his appearance different, too. Every other time Oakland had seen him, he was wearing heavily woven britches and a loose fitting linen shirt. There at the ball, he was polished in white, shoulder epaulets with embellishments of gold and silver.

  Was Deklan who Oakland was supposed to meet? Could Deklan be his soul mate? Impossible, but he hoped. They were from two different worlds. How could an exquisite young man like Deklan find affection in a raggedy pauper chap like Oakland? The whole idea hadn’t made any sense. That’s when Oakland hoped even harder.

  While Oakland slowly descended down the stairway, he kept his eyes pinned on the striking Prince. As he stepped downward, everybody else in the ballroom had become hidden in a murky blur. Only Deklan existed to him.

  It seemed that Deklan noticed Oakland on the stairs straightaway—his dance steps slowed to a stumble. His eyelids opened wider in the same way Oakland’s had when he first arrived and spotted the Prince on the main floor across the way.

  Deklan’s connection with the pale-faced red head had broken. He stopped abruptly and faced Oakland, forgetting the chunky girl he’d been paired with.

  Oakland’s feet left the final step while his eye contact remained fixed on Deklan’s gaze. Realizing what he was doing, Oakland quickly looked away and focused on the floor in front of him.

  An abrupt distraction cut through their line of vision when the next fair maiden waiting in line rudely pushed her way toward Deklan and forced his hand to dance with her. She pulled him close, twisted one of his arms around her waist and vice gripped his other hand with link-locked fingers.

  Deklan appeared out of touch with his new female partner since his visual connection had remained on Oakland still standing at the foot of the stairway.

  Oakland held back his white toothy grin, replacing it with a slight one sided smirk.

  Prince Deklan, as Oakland had named him, let go of the lady and begun walking his way. Their eyes met again and stayed fixed. As Deklan strolled toward Oakland, the kerosene lamps behind him seemed to intensify to a brighter burn.

  Within moments, realization of what was happening had circled the room. The grand hall had gone quiet, nearly silent, along with dropping jaws and hand covered whispers.

  What had taken place could not have been expected, and the idea that half the town had witnessed it, had put Oakland’s anxiety level on the up rise. He wasn’t prepared for a public display, however by no means was he letting a prince like Deklan slip away. If… he… was who Oakland was there to meet.

  This was his moment and all the hoping he’d gone through was coming true.

  Before Oakland turned and moved to the wine table for a chalice of much needed confidence, he transferred another nervous half smirk at Deklan. Looking over the piled fruit in the center of the table, Oakland finally reached for a metal goblet, and at that moment, a white-gloved hand brushed up against his.

  It was him.

  The Prince was standing there.

  “Let me get that for you,” Oakland heard him say, quiet like a whisper. Deklan’s deep voice rang beyond sensual, sending burning chills through Oakland’s entire body.

  What did his fairy know that he hadn’t?

  Oakland softened like a thirsty flower when he felt Deklan’s warm breath gracing his ear. The heat of his body had sent a terrifying love sick signal through to his bones. He was uneasy, yet at the same time felt secure with him there.

  “Sure. Okay. Yes. Please.” Oakland stammered, clumsily bowing as if the man was a true prince. That was his first reaction. He couldn’t think of anything else to do. He was new to meeting an heir of such impressive standards. He was terrified standing so close to an attractive man who had hundreds of eyes pinned on him. Deklan was the sort of man Oakland had always been attracted to. It had nothing to do with status or financial security, but a pure heart to heart connection, and by Deklan’s actions, it seemed clear to Oakland, he was Deklan’s preference as well.

  Oakland wasn’t sure if Deklan was smiling or laughing at him, knew his greeting wasn’t the best, but it was a good attempt considering what was taking place.

  Smiling and looking directly into Oakland’s eyes the entire time, Deklan skillfully reached for the carafe of red wine and with his hand still locked over Oakland’s, poured it into the goblet they were both holding.

  Deklan’s deep voice soothed Oakland’s nerves when he said, “I presume you know my name. How about you tell me yours?”

  Oakland found it difficult to believe Deklan hadn’t recogniz
ed him from their encounter at the river, or the night he’d taken him home on horseback. Had Oakland’s fairy godfather altered his appearance as well, or perhaps cast some strange spell on the handsome prince?

  Deklan leisurely released his grasp, leaving Oakland holding the goblet alone. “Thank you,” Oakland said. “I mean… Unh… Oakland. My name is Oakland, not thank you. I mean, thank you for the wine, and my name is Oakland,” he stumbled with his reply.

  That time Deklan’s true laughter had come out.

  Oakland felt a sudden wave of heat cover him and he needed fresh air to cool off. He fanned himself with his free hand while turning toward an open door at the side of the great room. Before taking a step, he asked, “Are you able to follow me outdoors or do you need to stay in here with your invited guests?”

  Still holding the carafe of wine, Deklan snatched another goblet from the fruit table for himself. “These people are known by my father and will certainly be fine without me. Besides… I come to believe this birthday party has just served its purpose. Lead the way. I’ll be but a step behind you.” He looked at Oakland with glazed eyes as if he were trying to see his soul.

  Oakland smiled, but was grinning inside.

  Their exit was more that of a hurried escape through the side door, taking them to a well-tailored courtyard. Green topiary and floral arrangements were scattered everywhere and the air was much fresher than the dusty odor that had taken over the Manor’s ballroom.

  They walked side by side along a stone pathway that wove through the garden and circled a pond at the center of the lawn. They marched to the far side and sat at one of the sporadically placed marble benches alongside of the water.

  They carried on with the usual chatter when two people meet for the very first time. Likes. Dislikes. Life in general.

  Even though Oakland had spoken much about himself, he had however kept the secret about working at the Manor out of the conversation, preferring his status about being poor and bathing in the river to remain out of Deklan’s ears. The dazzling clothing he had on was misleading and surely was giving the wrong impression about his actual character. He wasn’t certain if the real Oakland would change Deklan’s mind about staying or going.

  Deklan was charming in the way Oakland thought a prince might be and found the handsome man was giving the impression he’d like to be more than a social acquaintance. He’d sensed that by the way Deklan smiled at him, looked at him deep in the eyes. The way he leaned into his personal space and the way he casually pressed his knee and shoulder against his while sitting with him on the bench. Call it a hunch, but Oakland had a good feeling there was an attraction settling in, felt it the moment they met at the wine table. The connection was sincere and above all, he could tell it was coming from the heart.

  Deklan pressed himself tighter against Oakland’s shoulder and surprisingly whispered, “Would you dance with me?” He stood and reached for Oakland’s hand.

  Oakland looked up at Deklan, giving an excuse to avoid leaving his seat. “But there’s no music.”

  Deklan flipped his hand in a hither inviting manner. “Come. Rise up. You don’t need music to dance with me.”

  “The truth is… I don’t know how to dance,” Oakland confessed.

  “I’ll lead.”

  “Where you taking me?” Oakland clowned.

  “To the stars and back.” Deklan’s smile was too infections to ignore.

  “This isn’t going to be good. I haven’t any rhythm even with music playing in the background,” Oakland admitted, getting more nervous as time moved on. “You’ll probably turn me away after this.”

  “Not possible. Come now. Dance with me.” Deklan waved his hand at Oakland again, signaling for him to rise.

  Considering there was no music playing, Oakland discovered he wasn’t doing too badly. He held onto Deklan the same way he had when they were on the horseback ride, with a tight grip and very close.

  Something about dancing with Deklan helped Oakland maintain steady footwork. His rhythm remained intact and it appeared as though he knew what he was doing. Deklan was good at leading and Oakland was happy to follow the man.

  Deklan pulled Oakland tighter against his body, his heartbeat banging against Oakland’s chest. They swayed with their cheeks less than an inch from each other’s and Oakland nearly dissolved when Deklan whispered in his ear. “Look see, you have excellent rhythm. Might I be wrong, but this could work out well for the both of us in the days yet to come.”

  Oakland backed away. If he hadn’t, he might have panicked and blown the whole deal. He quirkily smiled at Deklan and sat back down on the bench where he probably should have stayed in the first place. Oakland lifted the goblet of wine for the much needed support he had abandoned earlier.

  Deklan sat next to Oakland and commented on his eye color, mentioning the shade of gray was what he first noticed when he saw him on the stairway. They captivated him instantly and were what influenced the uncontrolled reaction that had come out of him.

  Deklan took the goblet from Oakland’s grasp and set it down on the bench beside them. “I’d like to kiss you,” he politely asked, holding his hand.

  Oakland hadn’t expected Deklan’s request, and at the same time thought he was taking huge strides at getting closer. It must have been the way dominant men operated. He had no idea—had never been in that situation before. His face went long as Deklan moved in. Oakland hadn’t answered at first, but stuttered, “I… I’m sorry. I’d never kissed a man before.” He slightly backed away.

  Deklan moved with him, his hot breath blew over his skin when he said, “Please.”

  Oakland stayed where he was, trembling the moment Deklan gently kissed him. It felt tender and flawless. The perfect kiss had lasted more than a single red handed spin on a timepiece.

  Deklan softly nipped Oakland’s bottom lip as he pulled away. “That wasn’t so bad now was it?” he spoke in a whisper, still holding Oakland’s hand and caressing it with his thumb.

  Once again, Oakland’s face had gone long, but with certain traces of a slanted smile creeping up one side of his face. He hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t had to. Deklan might have been able to identify his answer without him speaking a word.

  Deklan blinked, leaned forward and pressed his lips to Oakland’s again.

  Oakland stirred inside and could sense a union of their souls had taken place. They’d come together by the blessing of his father and the mirror man. He’d been directed to where he was at, as though the two mysterious beings had known the way he was and there was a man waiting for him.

  “I have much I would like to tell you, but I cannot stay long,” Oakland owned up.

  “Will I see you again after tonight?” Deklan gripped Oakland’s hands tighter.

  Oakland hesitated with his answer and attempted to pull his hands away. “I’d like that, but I’m not sure that would be a good idea.” He shifted where he sat as if ready to get up.

  “Why would you say that?” Deklan asked, leaning in front of Oakland as if trying to stop him from running away.

  Oakland glanced away to hide his eyes. “The two of us together won’t be easy. People don’t understand us. What will your parents think? We’d have to hide in dark places whenever we wanted to be together. Trust me. I’d seen what happens to the meek and unique. With your white skin and me a man of black flesh, it’ll be much worse for us. How do you think that will look to the majority of the people in the village and those inside the Manor? A cat may love a fish, but how would they live?”

  “Hog wash, I say.” Deklan stood up, turning away from Oakland while talking to the sky. “They cannot expect me to marry a maiden. It won’t work. Men appeal to me, not women. You appeal to me, Oakland. You. You’re exactly what I’d been meant to find and everybody needs to understand that.” He turned back toward Oakland and took both hands in his again, knelt down in front of him and said with a quieter voice, “I cannot go back in that house without you with me. I find it impos
sible to do that now. It’ll never be the same. I won’t be able to keep my mind off of you.”

  Gripping Deklan’s hands tighter, Oakland couldn’t let go. “This will be a struggle. For you and for me. How can we be happy with that?”

  “How can we be happy without that?” Deklan argued.

  The bell tower had rung in the distance, giving warning that midnight had approached. Oakland looked up toward the reverberating tone and remembered what the mirror man had told him. He would lose the magic at midnight and for all he knew, Deklan would disappear right along with it. “I’m sorry. I must go.”

  “NO! You can’t.” Deklan squeezed Oakland’s hands tighter. “You can’t go. I won’t let you.”

  The bell continued ringing and Oakland felt a strange sensation swirling around him. “Tonight was one of the best nights I’d ever had, Deklan. But I must go now.” He struggled to pull his hands from Deklan’s grasp. The grip was tight, but he managed to pull free.

  Oakland had to leave. If he hadn’t, he risked being seen as the silhouette before meeting the mirror man.

  Deklan appeared sad. He bowed his head to the ground. He whispered, “Don’t go.”

  Oakland turned away and ran through the darkness until he reached the stone wall at the edge of the garden. He climbed over and jumped to the ground on the other side. He felt a sharp tug on the cloak he was wearing and noticed that a small piece of it was clinging to the spiky iron framing the topside of the stocky wall. As quickly as he saw it there, it vanished. Copper embers flickered and rose to the sky where it once had been.

  Back at the fish pond where Oakland had left him, Deklan had dropped to his knees. In his hand was the silver ring that Oakland had been wearing. He stood and faced the empty space in front of him and softly muttered, “When will I see you again, Oakland? Will you ever come back?”

  Just as the mirror man had said, the brilliant clothing on Oakland’s back had begun to fizzle and disappear. As he ran away, he lit up like a burning torch, glowering embers circling him, rising to the sky, taking refuge in a world where they must have come from. In a glimmering flash, it all vanished and he was running back home barefoot and unclothed. Everything that had happened seemed dreamlike. Oakland collided with anxiety, but he kept running away.