Behind the Curtain

He knows that he should turn around and leave before he�s seen, but for some reason he can�t move. Can�t even think. Maybe he�s got a circulation problem or he�s having a stroke, he�s not even sure any more.

Behind the Curtain

by Natasha Phillips

There’s a million reasons why he can’t take his eyes off of her—he’s sure—but he can’t think of even one. All he knows is that he’d standing there looking and feeling as awkward as he possibly could, with a silver platter and a kettle of tea in his left hand and the doorknob in his left. He knows that he should turn around and leave before he’s seen, but for some reason he can’t move. Can’t even think. Maybe he’s got a circulation problem or he’s having a stroke, he’s not even sure any more.

She’s there, hardly ten feet in front of him, her figure clearly discernable through the lace curtain of her four poster canopy bed. She’s not asleep like she should be, instead she’s sitting up, leaning against the open windowsill. Her legs are tucked beneath her body in a manner that suggests delicacy and they’re angled just a little bit to the left since years of etiquette instruction have nailed into her the proper way to sit when one is in a dress.

Both of her arms are resting flat on the white pane of the windowsill, her chin set on the middle of her overlapping forearms. He can’t help but stop breathing for a second as the clouds part and moonlight spills down upon her graceful features.

It’s nighttime, he tells himself, she shouldn’t still be awake. He’d only just come in to set down her morning tea so that it could steep overnight—she’d never liked hot tea—and even though he’s been doing it for over a year, she’s never once been awake for it. He’s suddenly aware that his mouth has gone dry and he tries to force himself to take a step back—out the door, down the hallway, back to the kitchens, it’s not exactly rocket science—but he’s too late.

The princess turns toward the doorway as the footsteps of a passing maid catch her attention. Her gray eyes land upon him and his heart nearly stops beating as her full pink lips curve into an exhausted smile. With the moonlight surrounding her she looks something like an angel, he thinks. She c***s her head to the side just so and her eyes flutter closed for a moment as if she’s making some important decision in her mind. After a moment’s pause the princess smiles and pats the bed beside her.

“Come here.” She says, and despite the fact that her voice is so soft it’s almost a whisper, he knows it’s a command.

With a bow and a balance he’s taken years to master he nudges the door closed, keeps the silver tray aloft, and makes his way over to her bed, his knees trembling the whole time. When he’s finally there he moves to set the tray down beside her and is surprised when she takes it from him and sets it upon her oak nightstand. Now that he’s closer to her he can smell that odd blend of peppermint and vanilla that he has long since identified as the scent of the princess and it’s so faint and delicate that he’s half drugged by the scent alone.

“Sit with me awhile,” The princess murmurs and he obediently settles himself on her plush bed, sinking the mattress down with him weight and sullying the perfection of her still made bed. The color of her sheets is a deep crimson that he’s always been confused by—it doesn’t suit her at all, he thinks—but they’re soft as silk and he’s starting to think that they probably are, even though its winter and she’d freeze to death if it actually was.

A draft of cold night air sweeps by them and he can’t help but shut his eyes as the wind combs through his rather messy blonde hair. When he reopens them he’s surprised to find that the princess’s eyes are gazing at him with some emotion that he can’t quite place, but thinks is a mixture between sorrow and amusement. Her waves of auburn hair have been set free and they flow elegantly down past her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face and flaring out with the beginnings of another curl just beneath her shoulder blades.

He’s rather alarmed to find that she is dressed only in a plain white shift that goes perhaps half-way down her thighs and is accented with lace. Her skin is milk pale and looks smooth and flawless. He doesn’t doubt for a second that her skin is as soft and inviting as it looks. He can feel heat flaring into his cheeks and he averts his gaze from the princess’s intense stare, sitting in an uncomfortably stiff manner with his muscles tense from nervousness.

“You have been taking care of me for this past year?” The princess asks, and he feels a familiar sense of embarrassment rising up again. Her tone is soft, but it does not suggest curiosity so much as it does affirmation.

“Aye.” He manages to say and his voice seems misplaced in the room. He has always been one who has ease with conversing, but this time he can’t even seems to find his words, let alone his voice. “I have, Your Highness.”

The princess’s eyes shut briefly and she turns her gaze back to the open window once more, staring out at the darkness of the night sky, obscured by thick gray clouds except for the area just outside of the palace.

“I see,” She murmurs, hesitating before turning back to him. He’s shocked to recognize signs of embarrassment in her features, and he has to check twice before he’s certain. Her smile is a little more uncertain and her gaze isn’t as steady and piercing as it usually is. And if he looks closely he can see a bloom of faintest pink crawling across her cheeks.

“This…” She began. “Surprises me.”

He can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the peculiarity of her statement. He has, after all, been a servant for her family since the day he turned ten and it’s been very nearly nine years since that fateful day. There’s something odd about this whole situation that he can’t quite place, and the fact that he doesn’t exactly know how to talk to the princess is starting to get on his nerves.

“I have been trying to find you for a very long time,” The princess finally says and he can feel his eyes go wide as she averts her gaze and a guilty blush makes her flush the color of a new-born babe. “To think that you’ve been coming here all along and I have just been sleeping.”

His heart skips a beat and his mouth hangs open in what he is certain is a thoroughly unattractive manner. However, as he watches her he notices that her hands are balled up into fists and that she still can’t quite look at him after her revelation, and all of a sudden his words come flooding back to him. With a certainty he hasn’t felt since the second he came into her room to find her awake he grins and places a hand over hers. When she looks up at him, he knows exactly what to say.

“I’m Elliot.” He says as she looks up, and for once he isn’t aware that he’s a servant and she’s a princess. At that moment they’re nothing more than two people, a little uncertain and a little nervous, who had a one in a million chance of falling in love. “Let’s go sneak some food from the kitchen."