Marguerite, the former Duchess of Torrinni, receives two letters that will change the course of her life forever; and that will impact young Céleste Richel's life too, in more ways than one.
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When Marguerite is forced to return to Torrinni cour...
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Céleste's slippers glided onto the first-floor landing, where the yellow color scheme from below switched to bright turquoise. Detailed portraits and landscapes hung from every wall, entrapped by white marble pillars and glowing chandeliers. The polished wood-paneled floor was, in places, coated in thick red carpeting, cushioning her steps.
"Wow."
Miss Marguerite swished past her, her back stiff but her movements gracious and confident.
Why did the Princess' gaze linger on her for so long? Why did she appear so cold, so unhappy with the Director? Did she knowMiss Marguerite?
Corridors sprouted from all areas of the landing, and the Director bustled about as if knowing where each led to. She swooshed across the vast area to the wall opposing the steps, stopping before two doors with gleaming plaques on them.
She studied the first. "Harriet Thatcher," she slipped to the door on the left, "and this is not one of ours."
Céleste advanced to her and motioned to a hallway on the left, containing more grand doors with inscriptions. "I saw Charlotte and Julia meander down there." She recalled the two squealing in delight as they flew to either part of the T-shaped hall.
"Yes, that would make sense." Miss Marguerite straightened and widened her eyes. "I mean, there may be more chambers that way. From what I understand, this floor is for debutantes, lesser nobles, chaperones, and non-royal ladies-in-waiting." She whipped around and set her hands on her hips. "Did you see where Cristina went?"
Céleste pointed to another oak door with a plaque, to the left of the stairs they'd come up. "In there. She has not come out."
Another staircase began at the foot of that door, and Miss Marguerite glanced at it warily. "Please, do me a favor," she motioned at the staircase, "do not go up those, ever."
Céleste tried to ask where the stairs led, but Miss Marguerite tutted.
"Do not go up, all right?" She whisked around and disappeared down the corridor to the right of Harriet's chamber.
Céleste drifted closer to the stairs, unable to stop staring at the golden-threaded carpeting covering each step. They had to lead to the royal floors—this resembled the staircase described in her book. The same high banister that curved up to a dark opening in the ceiling; an opening that screamedher name.
She let out a gasp as someone tugged her sleeve. "For royals and higher nobility, or their representatives," confirmed Miss Marguerite, grimacing as she hauled Céleste away from her wandering. "Come, our rooms will be this way."
Céleste scrunched her nose. "How did you—" she paused, barring Miss Marguerite from pulling her any further, "—did you say higher nobility? My father's apartments are up there? My brother's? Because that means I can go, I am his sister—"
