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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1712, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
"Have you heard? Master Lombardi was mauled to death by a wild bear!"
"Such a beautiful man, yet such a pitiful ending. The world is truly cruel."
"Why must he be taken away from us so soon? My heart aches when I think of his final moments. Imagine his divinely beautiful face, twisted in pain and agony-"
Demitria gritted her teeth in anguish as she quietly listened to the maid's chatters. It is inevitable that Rafael's death would be widely talked about throughout the kingdom, but unbeknownst to them, each and every word that came out of their mouths were like a sharp, burning hot dagger that was thrust into her heart.
The once lively and handsome young man had become a feast for a wild bear, not even leaving behind a corpse to bury. And it was all her fault.
The manner of their parting was not at all pleasant, and Demitria could not help but wonder if her rejection had pushed him to enter the military, resulting in his premature death. The dashing, charming Rafael was gone now, gone forever.
Her Rafael, the only man whom she ever loved, was gone.
Demitria abruptly stood up from her bed and rushed towards her wardrobe, flinging the mahogany door wide open.
Hundreds of dresses were neatly hung inside, made with exquisite materials such as silk brocade, taffeta, organza, satin, and muslin. There were tons of different colours too, ranging from bright pink to the deepest of green. Demitria found no need for them anymore.
She resolutely stepped into the wardrobe and plucked out each and every dress that was not black, flinging them to the floor.
"Your Highness!" she heard Ursula cry out. "What on Earth are you doing?"
Demitria paused her actions and calmly turned around to face her maid. "Take them and divide them amongst yourselves. I have no need for them anymore."
"But why, Your Highness?"
"From this day onward, I shall live as if I were a widow. I shall only wear black, and nothing else."
"Is this about Master Lombardi? You mustn't punish yourself for his death, Your Highness!" Ursula protested.
"Oh, but I must. I only have myself to blame for his passing, and now, I shall suffer this loss for the rest of my existence."
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