It is the season for love and murder in the court of Ravaeryn.
After a chance encounter one winter night, Lady Catarina de Fontaine had fallen hopelessly in love with Julian, the Crown Prince. However, upon discovering his untruthfulness, she immedi...
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1711, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
Ripples formed in the golden liquid in Julian's crystal goblet as the room swayed along with the dance of the common folk, and their visible joy and merriment were almost contagious.
The night was still young, and this was only the tip of the festivities. The sight of such magnificent splendour enamoured the common folk, and that night, they intended to enjoy it to their heart's content.
Julian solemnly stood in a slightly hidden, obscure corner, despite being the focus of tonight's festivities. The golden fireworks, the eponymous to tonight's event had yet to be lit, but judging by how intoxicated everyone was, he doubted that anyone would care.
The events of the past few months had finally come to a head, and tonight, whether he liked it or not, he had to choose one of the remaining six ladies to become his bride.
His entire body and soul only yearned for one, but he was unsure if she felt the same way for him. From the very first moment when he saw her at the academy, he was already besotted, and those feelings never really went away.
But she had turned him away during that night at the library, as if he were a thorn in her side, yet she seemed perfectly content being around Alessandro d'Augustine. Julian was confused, conflicted even.
Then, a soft, demure voice rang beside him, jolting him awake from his thoughts.
"Your Highness," Marguerite greeted, bowing gracefully. "You seem to be in deep thought."
"How could I not?" Julian replied with a chuckle. "Tonight, I must make the biggest choice in my lifetime."
Marguerite softly laughed as she lowered her head. Tonight, she had ensured that her appearance would outshine every lady in the ballroom, and from the looks of it, she had succeeded.
Her long, pale blonde hair was coiffed up in an elaborate pouffe hairstyle, with blue silken ribbons holding the hairdo in place. Pearls and diamond ornaments adorned her hair, and a single feather that had been dyed blue was inserted into her hair, completing the ensemble.
Marguerite's gown was of the latest fashion-- a cornflower blue satin gown with a square neckline that revealed just enough skin to tempt a man without seeming too desperate, sleeves that stretched to her forearm, a cinched waist and a wide, flaring skirt with golden thread embroidery motifs.
Her faux sapphire jewellery adorned her neck and wrists, and though they were fake, Marguerite's noble grace made it seem as if they were the finest jewellery that anyone could find.
"Your Highness, if you are willing, let me ease your troubles away," she said smilingly. "This room is filled with people, yet none of them offered me to a dance. Such a shame, as I do love to dance."
Julian almost guffawed. It was such a blatant attempt to get him to dance with her, it was as clear as day. But then again, a single dance wouldn't hurt, would it?
