Hey! I hope you’re doing well ❤ I wrote a short story back in the fall, and I hinted at/promised/planned on (who knows lol) a sequel! Today I bring you the second part to that story 🙂 ❤ I hope you enjoy!
Go read a prince in distress here.
a knight in shining satin
Struggling to keep her smile at bay, Celia clung to her skirts, holding them back from the wretched floor.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this.
Who would have thought? When did a prince ever need rescuing… especially from someone like her?
She wanted to approach him gallantly, in a fashion similar to a knight reaching his damsel on horseback. She’d swoop down with the golden key and set her captive free.
Celia tripped slightly over the cobblestone floor – or, what she could see of it through the grime. It could have been exposed earth, its texture and consistency were that vile. She took in another breath, thankful for her swimming experience, and held it there precariously, as if teetering on the edge of letting go.
Just a few more cells and soon after, they’d both be released.
Something echoed against the metal, causing Celia’s lip to curl upward against her will. What was that? She began picturing all sorts of culprits: mutated rats, unidentified bugs –
“What an attractive expression, Your Ladyship,” a familiar voice said, laughter lacing his tone.
Celia nearly face-planted, courtesy of her custom satin slippers. Not exactly dungeon-trekking footwear. “Derrick,” she said breathlessly. Her hair flopped into her face in an un-elegant fashion, and she bumped her elbows along the damp wall as she turned to face his cell.
“I could liken your entrance to that of a chicken,” Derrick mused.
Celia’s smile was one of awkward mirth. “Amuse me.”
Head tilted to one side, he explained, “You came in a’fluster and your little feet near sent you asunder.”
“Your dear mother delights in you, I’m sure.” Celia stepped forward, locking eyes with the captive. “Hold my skirts, if you will.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Indeed?”
“If I am to free you, my skirts must be tended to. This situation is most indecent, of that I’m aware-“
“But your frills need not kiss the floor.”
Her smile was contagious. “I am not a scullery maid.”
“Of that, I am sure.”
A tender expression was shared between them, and with that, they tended to their respective duties. Derrick worked at not catching her skirts on the rusted bars as she sorted through the keys.
“How, my lady, did the keys chance themselves into your possession?” Derrick asked as the door swung inward.
Retrieving her skirts, Celia replied, “Most miraculously.” Then, with a grin, “The guards cannot oppose me.”
“Forever I am in your debt.” He offered her a hand, and she placed hers in his. Kissing it gently, he said with a cautious smile, “Maybe there’s a chance for us.”
Celia’s smile was equally guarded. “Perhaps,” she said mysteriously.
With a grin, Derrick gallantly accepted their unique relationship. Standing up straighter, he offered her a sooty arm to accompany her out of the dungeon.
Accepting his gesture gracefully, Celia allowed him a moment of masculine dignity. She hoped in the days to come that a romance would blossom between them.
Yet neither of them could have foretold what happened next.
Tune in next time I share installments of this story for the answer to that mysterious cliffhanger! hehe