When Love Runs Red

When Love Runs Red:: Chapter Eighteen

         When fully dressed, Charlotte stepped forward resting her hands against the smooth fabric of her dress. Flattening it down, she then proceeds to do a light twirl; watching as the golden fabric follow her elegant movements. Giving Primrose a quiet smile of gratitude she made her way to her dressing table, knowing full well her hair was to be Primrose’s next focus. Charlotte sat down on the chair before it, only to be met by her almost flawless reflection.

         The only indication that something was indeed out of the ordinary was the sadness that tainted her large eyes. Casting her gaze down, she could not bear to see the change. The rain continued to pour, drowning the air in a grim façade. Primrose unbound Charlotte’s hair, before running a comb through the honey brown strands and untangling the knots. Charlotte winced as the comb tugged against her hair; finding Primrose’s force far too rough.

“Be more careful, I fear you are tugging too hard,” Charlotte muttered, fighting back a scowl.

         “Sorry, My Lady,” Primrose muttered, though upon looking in the mirror Charlotte could tell she was undoubtedly distracted. Bringing her head forward she ended all contact with her hair, before turning and facing Primrose directly; a look of enquiry on her face.

          “You seem to be troubled; would you care to talk about it?” Charlotte asked. It was a polite enquiry but it seemed to shock Primrose into grim silence. Her face went blank; her eyes dull as she went stock-still. Bowing her head in acknowledgment, she gripped onto the comb before answering.

          “It is nothing, My Lady. You need not concern yourself with my welfare,” She replied curtly, before resuming with Charlotte’s hair. After some time – and a considerable amount of tugging on Primrose’s part – Charlotte was prepped and ready for supper with the Queen. Her hair was neatly bound, her dress set and her skin perfectly clear.

        Collecting herself, she rose and clutching the golden folds of her dress, made her way to her chamber’s door. Twisting the handle she opened the door and stepped out – Primrose close behind. Making the prolonged trek from her room to the dinning hall was never pleasant. The palace’s walls seemed to enclose around her, the cracks and corners echoing with forbidding whispers.

         The palace held an eeriness, that wasn’t to be desired. Charlotte often had the sense of being watched whenever she trotted through the soulless hallways. Taking in a deep breath, she tried to ignore the subtle unease that trickled through her body, until her mind began to wonder to him once more: Dante. She wondered now if he would be present at supper, knowing he occasionally sat in attendance with the Queen.

        She soon arrived at the dining hall. Standing before the large gold embedded double doors, she took a small intake of breath. Time pressed down against her, her lips trembling at the prospect of seeing him behind the door. Putting her nervousness aside, however, she lifted her head before Primrose opened the door – admitting her attendance into the room.

         The room was lit with candles, illuminating the large space in an amber glow. The flames danced endlessly, like timeless spirits. The wood too took a fiery tone, like the flames were swallowing the wood whole. Long swirling shadows cast against the walls; taking on twisted deformed shapes and captivating Charlotte’s attention briefly.

         “Lady Watson, so glad you could finally join us,” The Queen said, bringing Charlotte’s attention away from the twisting shadows. The Queen once again was a sight to be seen; a swirling form of pure power. Dressed in a lavishing red gown – a popular item for the Queen – it made her look ever the paler. The Queen gave Charlotte a slight smile, though she was certain she saw a tinge of a sneer in it. Her attention was then brought about to the man also present in the room. He was not Dante. No rather a blonde hair gentlemen that too held an air of power.