1705. Luck had never been on Eleanora Finley's side. After her father died in a tragic fire, she was left at the mercy of her domineering and abusive mother, being deprived of all love and affection.
Truly, who would have thought that the simple red...
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1711, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
That day, it rained again. Heavy droplets of water pelted the stained glass windows, and the water levels of the streams surrounding the palace had risen overnight.
However, as bad as it was here in the capital, the situation was far worse in Beaummiers, a province down south which was under the rule of Prince John, the king's youngest brother. Never a man of responsibility, as soon as he heard about the villages that were drowned when the water of River Sanea overflowed, he fled for the capital along with his new wife.
Eleanora had been told that they were special guests, but in truth, they were cowards who ran away from their responsibilities. They only wanted to live their life in comfort, never knowing what it meant to face the hardships that life has to offer them.
Although they shared the same blood, Nicholas was repulsed by his uncle, and if he were the king, he would have never allowed Prince John to flee from Beaummiers. But King Guillaume had accepted his brother's return with open arms, so who was Nicholas to question that?
That night, a grand welcoming feast was held to celebrate their arrival, and bottles of the finest aged wine had been brought out from the cellar, suckling pigs and roasted chickens were served on silver platters, and delicate fruit tarts that had been dusted with powdered sugar were neatly placed on luncheon plates.
The whole affair felt extravagant, but deep inside, they knew that it was wrong. The people in Beaummiers were starving and without shelter, and here their prince was, chowing down roasted chicken legs. Nicholas could hardly swallow the spoonful of consomme in his mouth.
It was an entirely different case for Eleanora. She knew little to nothing about Prince John and his wife, Princess Consort Eufemia, hence she did not share the same disdain that Nicholas did.
Eleanora had been craving for sweet foods as of late, so when she saw the fruit tarts, her mouth began to water. In excitement, she picked up a raspberry tart, then a grapefruit tart, then an orange tart. As she bit the grapefruit tart, her eyes began to wander towards the royal couple, the special guests of the night.
Prince John was nothing to write home about, with sallow skin, greasy grey hair that was balding in spots, a bloated stomach, and eerie, dead blue eyes. His wife, however, was quite the beauty. Her light brown locks were sleek and shiny, with ringlets that framed her lovely face. Eufemia had a small mole on her left cheek, highlighting her milk and roses complexion.
Eleanora noticed that she was heavily pregnant too, to the point where she ought to be in confinement by then. Her eyes did show signs of weariness, and she staggered whenever she walked around. She stared at Eufemia longer than she should have, and subconsciously, she reached for her own stomach.
Although she had told Sir Rolf that she was not with child, she did not know for sure. Her monthly cycles have yet to come, and she was becoming more and more lethargic as the days passed. Still, Eleanora earnestly prayed that there would be no child, that no trace of Sir Rolf would be left on this round earth.
