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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1712, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
The past few weeks had been uneventful for Eleanora. Winter came and went as it always did, and spring was in full bloom. Springs in the capital city had always been touted as a sight to behold, with vibrant colours and fragrant scents. But in Eleanora's eyes, the colours were muted and dull, and the fragrant smell of roses and jasmine failed to enchant her either.
Eleanora was six months pregnant now, and she would find herself staring at the ceiling in a daze every morning when she woke up. Her body no longer felt like hers, her stomach not flat like it once was; it was round and soft, and so full that she could barely see her feet.
Not much has changed in those four months. Her betrothed, the Crown Prince, was still cold towards her, just like when they first met. The Queen still treated her warmly, but Eleanora knew that it was all half-hearted. Her smiles barely reached her eyes, as if she regretted bringing Eleanora here.
Perhaps, the only thing that changed was Eleanora herself. Under Dinah's constant scrutiny and scolding, she folded over, becoming a malleable substance that they could shape as they pleased. They could pour her into any mold that they wanted, turn her into whatever person they deemed worthy of the crown.
Eleanora barely received any letters, though that was hardly a surprise. After what had happened, she would be surprised if any of them would reach out to her. She knew that her reputation was in shreds, and in their eyes, she was nothing more than a greedy wench.
But deep down, she hoped that one day, a letter from Catarina would arrive. She did not care about how Cosmina or Jessamine perceived her, but she did care about Catarina. Cosmina and Jessamine were Catarina's friends, and they had only gotten close out of convenience. But Catarina was her friend. Catarina could have ignored her like the other ladies did, but she did not. She was a true, genuine friend-- something that Eleanora never experienced before.
So when a letter arrived for her, Eleanora's heart soared. "Who is it from?" she briskly asked the maid, unable to contain her excitement.
"It is a letter from Lady Marguerite le Prince of Fiorio, my lady," the maid replied as she handed Eleanora the small white envelope.
She frowned. "Marguerite?"
That was a name that she had never expected to hear. They hardly spoke throughout the entire ceremony, though Eleanora did notice how Marguerite stared at her back then. Her eyes were full of disdain and disgust, as if Eleanora was nothing more than a stain on the floor.
Eleanora tore the envelope open, unease filling her chest. Nestled inside was a piece of parchment, and on it, Marguerite wrote,
To Lady Eleanora Finley, Countess of Abbington,
I would like to congratulate you on being chosen as the Crown Prince's consort. I am certain that you had never expected to be chosen, and to be frank, neither did I, nor anyone in this kingdom. Lady Finley, I believe that everyone's station in life is determined at birth, and you have definitely risen high above your station. Forgive my harshness, but you were simply not born to be queen. The place you sit rightfully belongs to a highborn lady from one of the old families, not a little street rat. Although, I must admit, I find your feats admirable. You are pregnant with a common bastard, yet you managed to make everyone believe that it is the royal heir. I know more than you think I would, and should this information spread, I fear that your head would end up on the chopping block.
