Following their actions in The Golden Girl, Marguerite and Céleste must deal with the repercussions of their recent behaviors.
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Marguerite has landed herself in quite the shameful predicament, but she needs to make priorities; to somehow mainta...
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The overwhelming luxury surrounding Céleste made her uneasy. As if every step she took might be too big and might somehow trigger the majestic sculptures to shatter or the elaborate paintings to rip from their hooks. Her manor was fairly large and imposing, as her father had an impeccable taste for fineries; but the Torrinni Castle Royal Floor alone was something else.
Such a grandiose place didn't impress her; it frightened her. After all, half the royals in the castle were deceiving, corrupt, or liars. She worried well-dressed foes waited behind every corner, behind every intricate piece of art.
Yet there she was, about to visit someone she loathed, about to offer deceits of her own, to extend condolences to someone who didn't deserve them.
She didn't know Queen Adelaide well, as they'd only spoken during formal occasions, but her recent etiquette class had taught her that it didn't matter how well you knew someone; what mattered was making efforts to try to. So, as a future Princess, Céleste had to call on the Queen.
She'd overheard a few ladies babbling on as she finished her meal with Sébastien, saying the monarch's wife would remember those who visited her in her moments of need. To fit in at court, Céleste neededapproval from the Queen. More so if she wanted to maintain her position as Sébastien's fiancé.
It infuriated her that her Prince might have been concealing truths from her. He knewthat Marguerite was the mystery woman seen entering Antoine's lodgings, right? That he wouldn't think it necessary to tell her, his fiancée, and Marguerite's best friend, made him nearly as guilty.
Refocusing on her task, she recalled the instructions the guards had given her; the Queen's quarters were straight ahead and to the right, down the Monarch Corridor.
She halted. Who did she think she was? Some unimportant social rank-climber who served a Director turned Duchess?
Why would she agree to meet with me?
What if the Queen harbored the same suspicions? Would she shun Céleste, blame her for being in Marguerite's high esteem? Or attempt to draw information from her to better frame the Duchess, to better shame her?
Before she could decide what to do, loud voices carried up from behind her, from the stairs. Thundering footsteps followed, rattling the porcelain vase to her right and the potted plant to her left.
She moved to the side in time to witness a group of individuals hurrying up the steps, their faces red and their eyes wide and alert. One wore the typical bright colors of Adelaide's ladies, a few sported the worn-down gowns of serving girls, and several others were men in the off-white uniforms she recognized as medical staff.
What in the world is happening?
They whipped past her in a blur, not noticing her as she dipped her chin, blending into the décor. Their paces were quick, thumping down the hallway until they rounded the corner, headed where she'd been meaning to go.
