The golden flickers of the ballroom swoosh around me, intoxicating in their beauty. As the music dies down, the next giggling young lady steps up for her chance at my hand. They don't see me, and I don't begrudge them. I am too regaled as the prince. Does anyone ever see the true beauty of the prize-winning rose, or do they just see the prize? I know the answer.

Another swish and swoop, another twist and giggle; throughout the night, I am the prize. None of them will win. Indeed, a crown will don some young lady's head. A child will be born to bear the weight of the King's crown at my passing, but love, love will not be more than familiarity, a friendship of time in the best of circumstances.

I search for my one true love. The forbidden burning that is only allowed to engulf me in stolen moments and darkened shadows. The twirling hinders my search. I know she is here. She is always here, my greatest protector. The song again slows as I give an obligatory bow to the lady whose name I never learned and step back to survey the room. From nowhere, she is here, at my side.

"A break, my Prince?" Her voice comes low and formal with so many eyes on us.

"Yes, I could do for some fresh air," I agreed.

"This way, my lord," she directs.

The crowd parts to allow me and my trusty knight to pass. If only it were the parting of an aisle. If only we could be joined and share the weight of the crown.

"You are not keeping up appearances well," Catherine scolds as we entered the gardens.

The setting sun could not diminish the sweet perfume of the roses. It engulfs us in a welcoming blanket, a familiar setting for our privacy.

"I try. I do, but..." I have no words. The ladies are not unpleasant or droll even, but I entirely committed my heart. Their efforts are futile and grate on my desires.

"It is a compliment that could bury us. You must be more careful," Catherine scolds again.

"Are you ever not caring for my safety?" I tease, as our eyes met in the moonlight.

"Yes, I fear I have let us go too far and put us both at risk," she condemns.

"Is love too far? Is my love too far?" I press.

"Our love." Her voice cracks at her admission. It is not new, but still exhilarating. Her hand lifts to my cheek before she whispers, "my prince."

We fall into each other, into the forbidden love that will never be known. I will marry an intended. I will sire an heir. I will do as my family's name prescribed, but I will live for these moments. I will live for the touch of her skin on mine. And I will cherish the moments we steal in defiance of our circumstances.