Hohenfels

By the time Katharina managed to calm herself down, it was evening. The light falling in through the tinted window was taking on a distinctly orange tone.

Now that her head was a little bit clearer, she realized just how clean the niche was. Without all the dust and fallen books, it no longer had the same atmosphere. Even the half-collapsed shelf had been dusted off and haphazardly ‘fixed’ with a chair now supporting the brittle boards.

The cushions were great, though. And so was the cleaned-up table–

With a start, she realized that Arnold was still holding her hand. The Prince was lost in his thoughts, staring into space and completely oblivious of her growing embarrassment.

As if he had read her thoughts, he suddenly refocused and looked at her. “Is something wrong?” he asked, before his gaze fell on the table and he came to the same realization.

“Oh, pardon,” he mumbled, and pulled his hand away.

Katharina’s body betrayed her. She reached out reflexively before she could think better of it, and caught his fingers with her own.

She immediately let go again, but the damage had been done. She felt her face flush a deep red as his eyes widened. She had already mentally prepared for the inevitable mocking grin – but he simply grasped her hand again, with a light blush of his own.

They sat in awkward silence for a while, until Katharina gathered the courage for a polite cough. “Ahem. I’m… Thank you,” she said, cringing at her inability to find the right words.