♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE PREQUEL, THE GOLDEN DUCHESS, TO READ THIS BOOK!♦
BEWARE--spoilers in this blurb, for those who have not read previous books! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
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The world is upside down, and those you thought you knew... you no longer...
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Céleste already missed the quiet of her bedroom, during her confinement. Charlotte's constant hovering and bickering and whining caused a permanent throb in her head—and potentially some slight brain damage. Between fittings and speech rehearsing and guidance on how to hold a dress train, Charlotte had become the shadow Céleste had never wanted.
The day before the ceremony, on a sunny January twenty-fourth, Céleste peered into her half-empty cup of tea, praying Charlotte would release her soon; but it was unlikely. They'd been sitting in the Queen's Solar for what felt like hours, surrounded by other ladies who knitted, played cards, and read.
Céleste had no such luxury—she was to attend Charlotte as she scribbled tidbits of things she didn't want to forget before her big event.
They had their backs to the fire, relaxing on a plush cherry couch.
"Where is the Princess?" said Charlotte, her lashes batting so fast they nearly transformed her blueberry eyes to black.
Céleste set her teacup down, pretending not to notice the ladies desperate to overhear their discussion and spread false stories. "She warned us yesterday that she would be late. She had some royal matters to take care of."
Charlotte sneered. "Late, late, always late." She gaped at her paper and jotted down what turned out to be a string of curse words.
Céleste almost agreed, if anything out of jealousy. The Princess had true excuses to cut her time short with Charlotte—she had real royal tasks and lessons, and Charlotte couldn't deny them. But Céleste, not quite a Princess yet, had no choice. She'd considered getting herself in trouble again, but the notion of Charlotte's rage made her rethink her options.
"And Julia?" Charlotte dropped her quill into the book in her lap and squinted at the women fanning themselves, looking anywhere but at her. "She is not a Princess. I expected her here, on time. If not early."
It was odd for Julia to be missing. She never detached herself from Charlotte. Her absence didn't bode well.
"I have not seen her today," said Céleste, glancing at the door.
Said door blasted open seconds later, and the raven-haired Julia plodded into the room, her vibrant violet skirts swishing past chairs and tables as she approached. She smiled; a smile Céleste hadn't seen on her face in a while.
"Apologies for my tardiness," she said, sitting on a chair across from Charlotte and Céleste. Her cheeks were flushed, and several ladies gawked over at her with intrigue, but she kept her back to them. "Did I miss anything?"
Charlotte snarled at her. "What made you so late?" She leaned forward, gripping her notes before they fell. "Even Céleste got here early, for once. What kept you?"
Julia's smirk grew wider—if at all possible. "Well, my father is here, and I had a meeting with him... and the King." She wriggled about in her seat, as if trying not to squeal or jump for joy.
