I Am So Sorry

She stepped forward as Thaddeus pulled out her chair.

Her heel slid and she toppled backwards. Lyra’s arms flailed as she grabbed onto the nearest life preserver: the tablecloth.

With the grace of a falling chandelier, she landed with a resounding thud on the polished floor, dragging half the contents of the breakfast table down with her in a symphony of crashing silverware, flying toast, and sloshing juice.

A full jug of orange liquid arched beautifully through the air and landed squarely on Elias.

“Oh my God!” Lyra gasped, sprawled. Scrambled eggs clung to her arm, and toast was stuck in her hair. She blinked rapidly as a rogue sausage rolled down her dress and came to a dignified stop on her lap.

Thaddeus looked like he was about to implode. “My lady! I—I am so sorry! Are you alright?” He rushed to her side, helping her to her feet.

Thaddeus took one look at Elias and froze. His eyes widened in utter horror as he took in the juice-soaked attire.

“Your Highness! I… Oh Lord,” Thaddeus breathed. His lips moved but no words came out. He looked like he might start doing the sign of the cross at any moment.

Elias, dabbing at his once-impeccable tunic with the faintest shred of his dignity, sighed with the deep, exhausted breath of a man who had seen battle and survived… only to be taken down by breakfast. “Thaddeus,” he said slowly, “it is not your fault.”

Relief began to flicker across Thaddeus’s face.

“We just happen to have a guest who has issues staying on her feet.” Elias’s tone turned sharp, biting, and then—he turned to Lyra, one brow raised in mock horror—“Were you dropped as a child?”

Lyra, dripping orange juice, and righteous fury, narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, go to hell,” she snapped, standing tall despite the piece of egg in her ponytail.

“I have never in my life,” Elias began, “seen anyone fail so epically at being proper.”

Lyra gasped indignantly. “Excuse me?! I tripped!”

“For the love of God!” Elias threw his arms up in disbelief. “Would it kill you to act like a lady?”

She took a step forward. “Would it kill you to stop being insufferable?”

Thaddeus stood frozen between them. “Perhaps…a fresh dress?” he squeaked hopefully.

Lyra turned to Thaddeus sheepishly. “So… I guess you could say I made quite the splash at breakfast.”

 “I’ll just—uh—fetch a maid.” Thaddeus said and disappeared.

Elias took another deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was really trying not to lose what little patience he had left.

He turned toward Lyra, who was now seated opposite him, looking like a soggy, deflated version of the regal woman who had waltzed in just moments ago.

“So?” Elias asked. “Tell me… how is it you landed here? The sooner we find out how you got here, the sooner we can get rid of you.”

Lyra narrowed her eyes and offered him a sugary-sweet smile that could curdle milk. “Oh please… sound even more eager to get rid of me will you?” she quipped, leaning back in her chair with exaggerated elegance.

Elias’s jaw clenched. “Just speak,” he snapped.

“God, relax,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Well, the last thing I remember, I was at my aunt’s house. She’s been missing for twenty years, and they finally declared her dead. I inherited her place, and when I was looking around, I found this weird mirror in the garage. No reflection. I touched it and voila... here I am, ruining breakfasts.”

Elias raised an eyebrow. “You touched a mirror.”

Lyra gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Yes.”

Elias rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “I have heard about relics that can do miraculous things.... But I thought those were lost during the Great Purge.”

Lyra perked up. “The Great Purge?”

“Yes,” he said, settling back. “It’s in the history books.”

He cleared his throat. “I can take you to the library later. We’ll see what we can find.”

“Thank you. Well, now that I’ve managed to ruin breakfast,” Lyra began, attempting a sheepish smile. “Apologies for that, by the way…”

She tilted her head slightly, trying to come across as both remorseful and adorable.

Elias didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, you apologise in your world? I thought it was a foreign concept to you.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Uh… am I missing something? Am I supposed to owe you any other apology aside from this?” She gestured dramatically at the battlefield formerly known as the breakfast table.

“I guess we can consider bumping into a man while stark naked the norm in your world, then?”

Lyra’s jaw dropped in outrage, and she immediately slapped her palm to the table. “Bumping? You bumped into me! You were in the room without knocking!!! You wanted to see me naked!!!”

“Oh, speak a little bit louder,” he said in a low, venomously sarcastic tone. “I don’t think the entire castle heard you. Please, by all means—broadcast to the staff, the kitchen, the stables—that you, an unmarried lady… yes?... were alone in a room with a bachelor. Oh wait, naked!” He leaned in with a smirk. “That’s not the scandal of the century. So go on… speak even louder. Maybe the bards will write a song about it.”

Lyra narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re an asshole,” she said.

 “You’re a constipated… sad… pompous… asshole!!! You know that?” she shot back, rising to her feet.

Thaddeus, who had quietly been trying to clean up the spill without being noticed, froze in place. How is it that anyone could speak to the prince this way? And get away with it. Even Lady Lirae, whom he was head over heels in love with wouldn’t dare.

“I wouldn’t know…” Elias said, his lips twitching into a devilish smirk. “I have never peeked into an ass’s hole before. Apparently, you have, seeing how you’re being quite graphic. Tell me, Miss Lyra… what else did you find in there?”