Lady Zelina was born into one of Europe's most influential families and raised in the French court by her beloved aunt, Catherine de' Medici. But when she's captured by corsairs and sold into the Ottoman Empire, her noble identity dies with her.
Now...
Even in the darkest hours of the night, servants crossed marble corridors carrying candles, diplomats whispered behind closed doors, and somewhere beyond my window, musicians still practiced for tomorrow's banquet.
Royal courts were strange places. No one ever rested. They merely pretended.
I stood beneath the open balcony, allowing the cool evening air to lift the loose curls from my face. Below me, Paris glittered beneath hundreds of lanterns.
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
Beautiful.
Powerful.
Lonely.
"You hide out here whenever you're thinking." A familiar voice made me smile. I turned.
"My lady."
The woman waved away my formal greeting with amused annoyance.
"How many times must I tell you?" she sighed. "When we are alone, I am simply Caterina."
I laughed softly.
"And when we are not?"
She smiled. "You'll remember your manners."
I crossed the room, kissing her cheek affectionately.
"You've taught me well."
"I certainly have."
She studied me for a long moment. Her eyes always seemed to notice things others missed.
"You've grown."
"I should hope so."
"I don't mean taller."
Silence.
"You've become harder to read."
My smile faded.
"You always told me emotions were dangerous."
"They are."
She stepped beside me, looking over the city.
"But locking them away forever is dangerous too."
For a long while...
Neither of us spoke.
We never needed words to understand one another.
≻───────── ⋆✩⋆ ─────────≺
A servant entered quietly.
"My lady."
Caterina turned.
"The carriage is prepared."
She nodded. "Very well."
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