Page 50 of The Truth About Myths
Themorningskyhadno clouds, promising a sweltering day. A breeze shook the olive trees, making them shimmer. Henrique crossed his arms above his chest and glared at the palace's door. The prudish princess had the gall to pursue him into his well-deserved sleep. In his dream, instead of racing to her room in high dudgeon, she kissed him. He had peeled layer upon layer of clothing, never arriving at her pale skin. Just as he had reached her shift, a gull screeched outside his window, and Henrique woke up with a hard-on. No amount of ice-cold water would solve it, and he had to take matters into his own hands. A practice he had avoided since his randy teenage years.
Henrique cursed under his breath. Instead of lusting after Isabel, he should find the letters. As soon as the guests left for their outdoor entertainment, he would continue to search the palace. Hands crossed behind his back, Henrique paced to the Eros statue. The mischievous imp pointed its arrow at him, and Henrique stepped out of his range, an inch from crunching a couple of insects. The male praying mantis flapped its wings and swayed its abdomen to get the female's attention. The female stared, oblivious to his efforts. Henrique wanted to shout to the male that once it climbed on her back and mated, the female would bite his head off. How futile. He would do it regardless.
Males were all the same.
Foolish creature. Henrique kicked a pebble. Movement at the front door alerted him of their exit. His pulse sped up for no apparent reason. He spotted Isabel. Her hair was pulled up, so much so her already strong cheekbones stood out. Human nature was vile. Just because he'd never seen her hair down, he obsessed about its weight, its color, if it smelled of roses or jasmine. He hated her crown, not because it symbolized their different status, but because it forced her to pile up her hair mercilessly atop her head. What would it take to lift the weight of those diamonds from her temple and free her mane? He would do it slowly, kissing and smelling every strand. Lazily, he would massage her scalp, and then he would drink her thankful moans.
Alfonso’s laughter pulled him from his revelry. The prince clung to her side. She rubbed off an air of royalty to the inconspicuous prince, a legitimacy to Alfonso's somberness that clashed with Henrique's breakfast.
Instead of the usual fichu, Isabel wore a scooped gown, chaster than current fashion but showing two inches of skin. A simple strand of pearls graced her neck. Alfonso laughed at something she said, and his eyes danced to her chest. Bastard. Henrique had invented the eye dance.
Dio elbowed Henrique's side. "Perfect, they are all leaving. Where do you wish me to start the search?"
The royal highnesses strolled along the trail to the beach, escorted by several couples, including Rafaela, Canastra, Charles, and Beatriz.
Before he could judge the sanity of his actions, Henrique jogged to their front, blocking the way. "Care for a tennis match, Your Highness?"
The couple stopped.
Isabel's smile was all teeth. "Alfonso planned to show me—"
Henrique shrugged. "Go along then. Prince Alfonso shouldn't risk losing face among such a glittering court."
The prince frowned, no doubt unused to being challenged. What did Isabel see in the guy?
Isabel patted the prince's hand. "I'm sure Alfonso would love to sharpen his technique, won't you?"
The prince took a measured breath and removed his gloves. "Of course."
Henrique stifled a laugh. Isabel had just met him and already knew how to manage him. Should he warn Alfonso of the female mantis mating habits?
Isabel glared at Henrique, all nasty and provocative. It promised a world of painful, hopefully sweaty, retributions.
After sustaining her look for a few seconds, he winked. The game hadn't started, and Henrique was already winning. He had disgruntled Isabel and prevented them from spending time by themselves.
As they convened at the tennis court, Dio pulled him to the side. "Why the change of plans?"
"You whined the Bourbon was dangerous, did you not? This is a perfect opportunity to study the prince. Wasn't it Aristotle who said a man shows his true self at play?"
They faced each other on opposite sides of the net. The sun shone behind Henrique, another of the advantages lady luck bestowed upon him. Slashing the air with his racket, Henrique waited for Alfonso to serve. An itch of satisfaction coursed through him. Dio's talk about heroes must be to blame—he felt a primitive urge to trounce the foppish prince on the lawn of honor and prove to Isabel what a dunce he was.
The lad bounced the ball two times and threw it up in a flawless perpendicular arc. He swung, using his body weight in the attack. The leather sphere grazed the painted line, bruising the grass and isolating itself.
Hearty claps thundered from their small audience. The loudest of all was Isabel's.
"Fifteen zero," Dio declared.
Henrique's smile showed all his teeth. "So, just back from Sandhurst? When do you boys graduate?" Henrique slashed the air with his racket. "Eighteen years old? I don't remember."
The prince cleaned sweat from his forehead. "I've been told it often happens with age."
Henrique narrowed his eyes, his fingers flexing around the racket handle, and vowed swift retribution. The back and forth of the match heightened the tension. Henrique's muscles strained as he chased after shots, his mind focused solely on the game. When the ball flew at his side, he hit it at the right angle. It rolled and scraped the net, falling limply on Alfonso's side. He lifted his palm. "Sorry."
The lad nodded, a flat smile on his Bourbon lips.
They disputed the points thoroughly. Henrique had to admit the prince had some technique. After a pernicious forehand, Henrique veered to the left. When he realized the boy's intention, it was too late. Alfonso pitched to the right. Henrique could only follow the ball with his eyes. Point for Alfonso.
The prince smiled. "I apologize. My friends at Sandhurst are sprightlier."
