1709, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
"Are you looking for someone, Jules ?" Julian's elder sister, Princess Demitria de Lavilliers asked.
As an unmarried twenty-one year old woman in Ravaeryn's high society where girls were married off at sixteen, she could be considered to be quite the spinster, although no one dared to say it.
It is not the princess's looks that was the issue. In fact, she was a famous beauty with wispy light brown hair and bright, vivid blue eyes, her lips full and red like a ripe cherry. It was the fact that there were no suitors highborn enough to be considered worthy of her hand.
The only one that was close enough to her in age, Prince Dominique of Phoenicia, had wedded a Lecarrian duchess last year. The king of their neighbouring kingdom, Amaris, had no son nor heir, so she had no luck there either.
"I haven't seen the de Fontaines yet. Mother sent out invitations, didn't she ?" Julian replied, his light amber eyes darting around wildly in search for the person he anticipated to see the most that night.
Every New Year, invitations were sent out to the twelve noble houses of Ravaeryn, to put aside their differences for once and dine peacefully.
There was House le Prince, the immensely rich noble family that owned multiple shops and businesses all around Ravaeryn, and of course House de Fontaine, which was rising steadily in terms of wealth, power and influence.
There was also House Breckenridge, who owned the academy that Julian studied in beforehand, House Blanchard, the largest supplier of livestock in the kingdom, and House Olivier, that actively engaged in foreign trading.
For the past seven years, Julian was unable to attend the feast due to his studies, and when gazing upon this familiar yet unfamiliar environment, he did feel a little odd.
Ravaeryn's southern wing general, the Marquis Giuseppe le Comte, was seated at the long dining table together with his wife, Maeve le Comte, and his only child and heir, Jessamine. Right beside them were the Andrades who lived far up north, all the way in Serafin. The viscount's eldest son had not come along though, Julian had noticed.
Eventually, the tables were filled with members from all but one of the noble houses. House de Fontaine had yet to arrive. House le Prince's eldest daughter, Marguerite, was seated right in front of Julian, and he could finally get a good look at this person who Catarina abhorred so much.
Marguerite was as fair and delicate as the flower she was named after, with gentle light blue eyes and thick, pin straight blonde hair.
She was a traditionally lovely girl by Ravaeryn's standards, but when compared to the strikingly beautiful Catarina, she did seem rather dull.
"Your Highness," she greeted, her mellow and sweet like honey. "It is so good to see you here tonight."
Julian glanced at her for a split-second, let out an awkward chuckle and said, "Yes, yes. Please excuse me, I'm looking for someone."
And with that, Marguerite was left gaping like a fool while Julian disappeared from sight, escaping into the hallways.
Count le Prince's daughter was known to be sweet-tempered and mild, and her smile did not falter when Julian ran away from her, but for a very brief split-second, her exquisite, well-maintained mask cracked, and disdain shone through her narrowed blue eyes and gritted teeth.
The kingdom of Ravaeryn was far down south, and it rarely snowed here, sparing its people from the delights of avalanches and freezing to death.
However, it would rain heavily from November to March, and thunderstorms were all too common.
Julian could already imagine his mother crying upon seeing her ruined rose garden the next morning, and his head began to throb.
His mother could have chosen to plant other types of flowers that would not die as easily, but of course Queen Isabel had to favour the delicate, fragile roses the most.
In fact, they died so often that Julian wondered how it was even possible. Perhaps, there was a gnome living in the gardens, who would pluck out all the rose petals out of spite and water the bushes excessively so that they would die.
Julian never thought about the supernatural, but when standing in the dark hallway alone accompanied by only his thoughts, the thought of the spiteful gnome did make shivers run down his spine.
Squelch!
Splish!
Squelch!
Julian's heart began to somersault, and a drop of sweat trickled down his forehead despite it being a very, very cold evening. The sound came from behind him, and slowly, it drew closer and closer to him.
He could already hear the heavy, ragged breaths, and Julian imagined a vengeful gnome dirtied with mud standing right behind him.
Splish!
"Mama!" he inadvertently cried out, and almost immediately, he heard a loud, ridiculing peal of laughter.
"Oh dear, you really are a Mama's boy," the voice panted between laughter, and the red-faced Julian turned around only to see a soaking wet Catarina, teeth chattering from the cold, yet still able to make fun of him.
"Lady Catarina!" he exclaimed in aghast, not knowing of how to act in front of her despite having been actively searching for her for the past hour. "You are here..."
And you are soaking wet. Why are you soaking wet ? Julian wanted to add, but the words never left his mouth.
"Did your cousin come along ?" he asked, curious as to why Catarina was there alone. Her nosy maid was nowhere to be seen either.
"Well yes."
"It will be nice to see him again," Julian said to drag on the conversation.
Disinterest flickered in Catarina's eyes, and she said, "Judging by how excited you are to see Rafael, one would assume that you were in love with him, Your Highness."
If Julian had been drinking something at that moment, he would have sputtered and choked, which would have brought on a bit of a dramatic effect. But he had not, so he was left chuckling awkwardly.
"No, not at all, Lady Catarina. I was wondering why you are here alone. If Rafael were here, surely he would accompany you?" Julian quickly interjected.
Catarina let out a loud sigh. "When we were travelling in town earlier, our horses were spooked and ran off, but not before crashing our carriage beyond recognition first. Father and Rafael are chasing after the horses, and Rosie is somewhere in the palace, searching for towels to dry ourselves with."
"Is it really necessary to chase after the horses ?" Julian said with a frown.
"They're purebred black stallions from the Cantergarre mountains. Costed Father quite a fortune too," she explained.
Catarina's voice hitched as she spoke, and Julian realised that her lips had begun to turn a pale, almost purplish blue.
"I don't think Rosie will be coming back soon. Let's get you changed into fresh clothes, shall we ?" he suggested.
Hesitance flashed in those dark depths, and Julian found it necessary to elaborate a bit further. "I shall take you to my sister, and hopefully she'll let you change into her clothes."
"I can't meet the princess while looking like this! What will she think of me ? A dirty, untidy girl with no sense of decorum ?" Catarina cried exasperatedly, and Julian stifled a chuckle of amusement.
By now, he already knew how much care and thought Catarina put in her appearance.
"I'm looking at you right now, and no, I do not think that you are a dirty, untidy girl with no sense of decorum," he countered.
"It's not the same," Catarina retorted almost immediately. "You're different."
Julian began to smile with intrigue, and he asked, "Different ? How so, Lady Catarina ?"
The dark haired lass quickly stepped back, stunned. What had she been thinking ? How on Earth could he be different than the others ?
The man standing in front of her was the Crown Prince, and she had just conversed with him without any propriety. Whenever she gazed into those honey brown eyes, she would forget that he was the Prince, not the amiable Mister Bastien that she met at the academy.
"I've misspoken," she replied after a moment of consideration.
"No, you did not-"
"I hope that you will pardon all my wrongs, and forget that we have ever spoken, Your Highness."
Julian frowned and quickly shook his head. "Why are you being like this ? You haven't done anything wrong. Have I offended you, Lady Catarina ?"
Instead of answering him, she curtly said, "I shall take my leave now," and turned around, ready to walk off.
She had barely taken a step forward before her right wrist was forcefully caught by the agitated and confused Julian.
"Catarina !" he exclaimed, ignoring all decorum and bounds. "Answer me !"
Catarina's heartbeat began to speed up and fear bloomed inside her chest, but she did not let it show on her face.
"You are being very improper, Your Highness," she spoke in a formal, level tone.
Julian's grip on Catarina's wrist tightened. "Answer me," he repeated, this time in a softer tone.
He would have never acted this way with another woman, but with Catarina, it was different. He was attracted to her the same way moths are drawn to a flame, and her piercing dark gaze filled his mind for days, as if it were magnetic.
Her skin felt so soft and delicate against his calloused palm, hardened by years of sword training. He yearned to intertwine his fingers with hers, to stroke her smooth, ruddy cheeks. But she was not his. Not yet, at least.
If they were to be caught like this, her reputation would become tarnished, while he would be lauded instead.
With that thought in mind, he let go of her wrist as if it seared his hand, and shakily, he stepped aside.
Forgive me, he wanted to say, but Catarina had already walked away, leaving him alone in the darkened hallway. And that night, none of the de Fontaines attended the New Year feast.