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each oath I swear, each shouldered care
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“More?” the girl giggled at the Prince as he gestured for her to hand him another goblet of wine. Tristan grinned, nodding and wiggling his fingertips at the tray of glasses. She obliged, handing one to him as she tucked a strand her hair back behind her ear with her other hand. Tristan downed the contents of the cup immediately, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The girl laughed again. “Don’t forget,” another of his friends reminded him, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you promised you’d go skating with me later. You need to be able to stand up for that.” The prince raised his hand to his head in a mock salute. He wasn’t as drunk as they supposed. He knew which trays held the glasses of watered down wine intended for the younger guests, and the full-strength adult versions. Having downed a few glasses however, the prince was feeling pleasantly warm and was still very much enjoying himself.

“Want to see something great?” he asked the girl who had handed him the wine, draping an arm around her shoulders, “you like pretty things, right?” Giggling, the girl nodded, and Tristan made eye contact with the redhead on his other side, “and you?” She nodded too. Neither girl, he noticed, was wearing a dress with sleeves, and he could feel them trembling a little as the night began to turn cold. He sent them back inside to fetch their cloaks, on the understanding that he would meet them in the stable yard. Watching them go, he pulled himself a little straighter and meandered his way across the grass, weaving through the crowds. The gardens, it seemed, had become the domain of courting couples. They had found their way to the wooden benches near to the magical hovering lights and lingered there in tight embraces. The prince’s mind strayed a little, to the sight of Alethea in her pretty dress dancing with his Uncle. They had made a handsome couple.

Tristan’s stomach gave an unpleasant lurch as the thought hit home, and it was enough to distract him long enough for him to trip over an exposed tree root poking its way through the lawn. The prince crashed into the shrubbery, his hands reaching out to break his fall. He lay for a moment on his chest, his ribs pressing against the ground, before he rolled himself over and began to laugh. Perhaps he had had more than he had thought. His father would not be impressed. Jumping back to his feet, Tristan dusted the mud from his trousers and began to pick the leaves out of his hair, fully intending to resume his journey to the stable yard.

To his left, the plant life rustled. Tristan had been hunting enough times to know exactly what that meant. Someone, or something, was moving through the undergrowth. “Hello?” the Prince called into the darkness, wishing for one of the little lights that hovered out over the lawn, “is someone there?”

photography by Dominic’s pics | Mark Cutler at flickr.com






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