Usually so good at maintaining his kingly composure, Prince Albert was unusually agitated. Isabella just watched him with a constant, unflinching gaze while wiping a bead of perspiration from her forehead with a charcoal-dusted arm. Warm and smart brown, her eyes appeared to cut right through the meticulously built façade of his princely behavior. He cleared his throat, trying to reclaim the air of authority he generally commanded. "Your work is... amazing, Mistress Isabella," he said, the words sounding stiff and unsatisfactory.
"It is my life, Your Highness," she answered, her voice unexpectedly light but with a suppressed power like tempered steel. "And it calls for focus. Are you here only to see or to inspect?" A weak, difficult sparkle flashed in her eyes. Albert sensed a pull, a weird magnetism to her bluntness that was totally missing in the perfumed murmurs of the court. He was attracted to the raw intensity of her forge, to the sparks that circled her like small, flaming sprites, and to the scent of heated metal and coal that coated her like a second skin. He was really interested for the first time in a long time in a world entirely unlike his own.
Asking questions ranging from the practicalities of her craft to the more philosophical nature of creation, he spent much longer at the blacksmith's shop than any royal inspection would justify. With surprising candidness, Isabella responded; her passion for her job shone forth from her traits. Her hammer's rhythmic clang against the anvil seemed to provide a constant, gripping beat to their chat, dragging Albert farther into her universe. But as the afternoon wore on, darkness started to intrude. Certainly, whispers of his lengthy stay would arrive at the castle. The king's ears were everywhere.
A sudden, terrible summer thunderstorm, unanticipated and violent, erupted over Eldoria as Albert finally prepared to leave. Thunder cracked directly overhead as rain poured down and converted the dusty paths to mud in minutes. Isabella said, her voice worried, "You cannot ride in this, Your Highness; the roads will be treacherous."
Albert gazed out at the furious weather and then back at Isabella's forge, a tiny haven of warmth and light against the darkening sky. Unexpectedly seductive was the idea of prolonging his visit and spending more time with her. Still, every minute he remained unseen and unaccounted for was a gamble. Would a few more hours of her company be worth the king's inevitable wrath?