But again, not seeing how I looked drove me crazy day after day. I couldn't even get a feeling of it in the eyes of other boys my age. None of the boys in our land dared to lay eyes on me. They feared my father, who, although kind and gentle to me, was a feared warrior and count outside our castle's walls. His overprotectiveness turned the beautiful boys away from me.
One day I sat weeping for hours under a willow tree, wondering how I was going to ever meet my knight in a shining armor—although I preferred his armor wasn't "shining," so I would not see my reflection and be the cause of my family's pain.
The other disadvantage was that I never learned how to swim. In fact, I began fearing water in many ways. All circumstances led me to give in. I was never going to see my reflection. Ever.
Until…
13
Until my whole world crumbled when the most beautiful boy in the world laid eyes on me for the first time.
The first boy to ever dare lay eyes on me in spite of my father's promise to punish whoever did. If you were a boy, looking at me equaled an iron maiden slicing your throat.
He was an unusual boy. His boldness and steady gaze were admirable, yet intimidating, as if I had wished to be looked upon by softer eyes. The boy's eyes promised great passion, intense desire, but also dire consequences. I could read it all in one glance.
But it wasn't only the boldness in his look. It was the admiration for my looks that shook me all over. He looked at me as if his life depended on coming closer, as if he had been parted from the air he breathed when he saw me, and as if he had known my soul since long ago and was about to not only introduce himself to me, but introduce me to my real self.
I estimated him to be two years older than me. He was taller than my father. His eyes were black with that unexplainable hue of gold, like meteors that fell from the sky every now and then. His hair was black too; so black it wouldn't show in the darkest nights. It fell down his shoulders, caressing his pale face, which was a bit paler than usual, but still hard-edged, with a light stubble. Not many Austrian boys had dark hair, so it was a most desired trait.
The world around me froze for a long time. I was entrapped by his gaze. None of my father's guards stopped the boy—which was abnormal. I was almost sweating in this cold when he began approaching me slowly. I shrugged and blinked repeatedly. No boy in this land had ever dared look me in the eye, let alone approach me.
"No wonder apples bloomed the day you were born," he said with a sincere smile. Too sincere—I was so infatuated that no words dared escape my open mouth. I could have told him this was one of the silliest lines a boy had told a girl, but I loved it. No boy had said anything to me before, let alone this one, in whose presence I felt both fear and desire.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, doing my best to hide my feelings behind a mask of irritation.
"So you can heal my soul," he replied. I swear a gleeful tear was about to fall from my eye while snow fell from above. "Your face is like sunshine piercing all this cold in the world that surrounds us. I wonder how my life would be like if I woke up to these eyes every day."
The world was spinning around me, and all I feared was that I'd faint and fall to the ground and embarrass myself. I had never shared attraction with a boy before. Feeling such unexplained intensity was premature death to my fragile heart. I still couldn't shake the idea that I must have been only dreaming. Who talked like that? Who said things like these when first meeting someone? This sounded crazier than romantic stories I read by Shakespeare.
And then the strangest thing happened…
"Angel Hassenpflug!" my father hailed with welcoming arms from behind me. I turned my stiffened neck in wonder as I watched him hug Angel as if he were his long-lost son coming back home.
"Count Karnstein." Angel bowed his head, taking off his hat. "I should apologize for my delay, but me and my crew faced a heavy snowstorm in Hungary on our way."
"I heard about the storm," my father said. "I hope it wasn't her doing, if you know what I am implying."
Angel nodded with a slight smirk, as if he had a toothache or something. They were talking about the nameless witch. I didn't want to talk about her now. I wanted to look at Angel.
"I knew a young and strong lad like you would pass through," my father said. My mouth was still agape. How was he talking casually to a boy who had just approach me? "How are our friends in Lohr?" he asked Angel.
"They love your apples, Count Karnstein," Angel said, suppressing a laugh. "They not only devour them, they believe they could heal their sorrows." I think my father hadn't noticed that Angel slightly shrugged when saying "sorrows."
The two men laughed, and I was burning in silence. Not only did my father not worry about Angel's proximity to me, he also seemed to respect him dearly. Angel, the beautiful apple trader from Lohr.
I coughed so they would pull me into the manly and loud conversation.