1711, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
" HOW DID SHE EVEN GET THAT INJURY?" Cosmina whispered into Catarina's ear. "She doesn't even go near the stove nor held a knife. All she does all day is moping around and doing nothing productive."
"She's a big fat liar, that's what," Jessamine interjected. "But if you don't act up quickly, Lady de Fontaine, your man is going to be stolen away."
"He's not my man," Catarina chuckled. "She can have him if she wants to. Then we can all go back to our homes and live happily ever after."
Although those indifferent words escaped from her lips, her heart told a different story. Catarina was convinced that Julian was enchanted by her, completely enamored and whole heartedly in love. While she was still unsure of her own feelings, she was certain that his affections had not changed.
She was certain, she truly was. But when the sweet notes of Vie Sandr il Amalia filled her ears, she was stunned into silence.
This tune was far more enchanting than the one that Julian had played earlier. There was a certain charm about it that drew you into a trance, but instead of enjoying its beauty, Catarina could only stare in disbelief.
Marguerite's lips were gently smiling at Julian, and those clear amber eyes that she once daydreamt about were staring into Marguerite's light blue eyes fondly.
"I suppose it is a good thing that you do not like him, Lady de Fontaine. Look at the two of them, aren't they made for each other ?" Cosmina chuckled. Truly, Julian and Marguerite were wonderfully compatible.
He was tall and charming, while she was demure and delicate. It was a match made by the heavens, but instead of being happy for them, Catarina felt discontent instead.
"Yes, lovely indeed. Now that he's found a bride, why don't we all go home already ?" Catarina retorted bitterly.
And almost simultaneously, the music stopped playing.
All eyes were on her, including Julian's. "Lady de Fontaine, you couldn't have spoken any louder!" Cosmina hissed, and Catarina abruptly realised that she had said those words out loud. In an instant, her cheeks turned a vibrant red shade, and never in her life that she had felt so much shame before.
Marguerite, while annoyed that her playing was disrupted, was more than happy to hear that Elliot de Fontaine's daughter was indeed agitated by her presence. Julian, who sat beside her however, glanced at Catarina with amusement. Those words of her indicated jealousy, and his heart soared knowing that Catarina had been jealous of him and Marguerite.
Afterall, jealousy does not simply bloom out of nowhere. Most commonly there would be a previous affection or hatred, and in this particular case, Julian truly hoped that it was the former.
Now, it was Marguerite's turn to feel threatened. Eventhough he was here sitting next to her, she knew that Julian's heart and soul were elsewhere.
In an effort to gain his attention, she raised her so-called 'injured' hand and let out a loud yelp of pain. In a way, Marguerite was not lying when she said that she hurt her hand, which actually did occur. She did however, lied about how she got the injury in the first place. During that entire week, she had never bothered to go near the stove or hold a knife, which she considered to be a peasant's job.
But she knew that if she had a sleeve full of injuries, the Prince's heart would become soft and sympathetic towards her, which was the exact effect that she wanted. So instead, she purposely heated a hairpin and put it on her skin, letting the flesh scorch and burn.
"Are you alright, Lady le Prince ?" the Prince said, and she dramatically shook her head while clutching her hand close to her chest. "The burn wound suddenly began to hurt again, Your Highness," Marguerite said through gritted teeth, her eyes moist and teary.
"Forgive me, I won't be able to continue playing."
"No, you mustn't play. You should go to a physician and get the wound treated, Lady le Prince," Julian hastily replied.
While he indeed showed concern, it was merely that of a Prince towards his subject. It was not enough for Marguerite, not enough at all. She wanted him to gently take her hand in his and softly blow away the pain, but he gave her none of that.
Marguerite then nodded sullenly after he finished speaking and began to stand up from the bench.
"Don't be sad, Lady de Fontaine," Cosmina whispered dizzily. "Even your cousin is far more handsome than the Prince. Oh, but you cannot marry your own first cousin, can you ?" she sighed, patting Catarina's shoulders gently.
"Also, I have a younger brother who is mildly attractive," she added discreetly. "I thought you should know."
Catarina chuckled, and opened her mouth to refute Cosmina's previous words. "I'm not sad at all, Lady Breckenridge. And Rafael is ugly, who wants to marry him anyways-"
Before she could even finish her words, she heard a faint scream, followed by a soft thud on the floor. Lavinia screeched in horror while Ingrid began to cry Catarina's eyes eventually landed on Marguerite, sprawled on the floor like a wilted camellia.
She let out a cry of distraught, reaching out for her ankle in anguish. "I-I think I sprained my ankle," she said briskly, tears of pain now streaming down her cheeks.
Julian was quick to rush towards her side, and he said, "Let me bring you to the physician. Can you walk, Lady le Prince ?"
"It hurts so bad, Your Highness! I don't think I can even stand!" she cried out.
The Prince frowned before eventually saying, "Come, let me carry you."
At the other end of the room, Catarina inhaled sharply, unable to comprehend the abomination that was unfolding in front of her, and all of a sudden, her side began to ache.
Of course, it was none other than Cosmina, pinching on her skin. "Lady de Fontaine, look!" she hissed exasperatedly.
"I told you to watch out but you didn't, now see what has happened!"
Marguerite was all weak and helpless in Julian's arm, and if one had not known better, they would think that she had been stabbed in the chest instead by the way she was acting.
The Prince rushed out of the room hastily, leaving the remaining six ladies behind. Mere moments after the two left, Lavinia began to cry heartbrokenly.
"Why does she get to be carried by him ? What about me ?" she screamed out, but nobody bothered to answer her.
"I suppose we can go and pack our bags now," Jessamine joked. "Thank the Gods, I can't stand wearing this corset anymore longer."
"Hush," Cosmina hissed. "Can't you see that Lady de Fontaine is sad ? As her friends, we must give her emotional support! Now, Lady de Fontaine, they are not married yet, so you still have a chance to reclaim his heart, if you'd like to."
"I wouldn't want to," Catarina laughed. "I don't even like him that much."
When they walked out of the room, Cosmina whispered to Jessamine, "Do you think that she's lying ? I think she's definitely lying. Her heart is so full of affection, but that ego.. Simply horrendous."
It was only then that they finally recalled about the Queen summoning them over, and Cosmina was grateful that this little distraction had not taken too much of their time. Otherwise, there would be a lot of apologising to do. The Queen's sitting room was only several rooms away from the Prince's piano room, but the decor and aesthetic was vastly different, as if they were in a different continent entirely.
Julian's piano room had simple blue tiles and was sparsely decorated, while Queen Isabel's sitting room resembled a pirate's shipwreck.
The decor boasted an obscene amount of gold, even in places where gold was not necessary, and the tablecloths were all made with rich burgundy brocade, which, on its own was sensible and charming, but when accompanied with the gold decor, it made the Queen's sitting room look rather tacky and excessive.
Catarina thought that it was a shame, as the Queen seemed to have a good sense of style, and her gowns were all in the latest fashion, yet her living quarters were like the insides of a treasure chest.
"There are only six of you," the Queen remarked, glancing at each of their faces carefully. "Where is the seventh girl ?"
"Lady le Prince sprained her ankle earlier, so the Prince brought her to see the physician," Cosmina chirped.
"I see," she hummed.
Then, the Princess, who had been sitting next to the Queen slowly set down her teacup, deep blue eyes flickering towards the six girls.
"Have you all been well ?" she asked magnanimously, yet her lips were pressed into a sly grin. "What did you think of the tasks you were given in the previous week?"
"It was an eye-opening experience," Catarina said truthfully. "I have learned tonnes of new things this week alone, things that no teacher would be able to teach."
Demitria's gaze softened. "I see. That is very good, Lady de Fontaine. Now, how about you, Lady Olivier ?" she said, gesturing toward Lavinia, who had been softly sobbing into her sleeve for almost half an hour now.
"It was awful! The food is terrible, and the bed is so hard that I could barely sleep!" she cried exasperatedly.
"Oh ?" Demitria chuckled. "Should I send you home, then ? I am certain that you will find it more comfortable at your home in Levere rather than here, Lady Olivier."
In an instant, Lavinia's features morphed into that of pure horror. "No, not at all, Your Highness!" she refuted, appearing to have gained a sliver of intelligence. "I'd like to stay here, please."
"You sure are a funny lass," Demitria laughed. "First you say that you hate it here, but you still want to stay here. Funny indeed."
She teared her gaze away from Lavinia and began to walk towards the ladies, her hands placed on her hips.
"Now that you all have learnt well, you will be given better quarters to sleep in, and you can have your maids back. Also, we can now proceed to our next agenda. I hope that your skills have not faded after only peeling potatoes a week."
Catarina quickly nudged Jessamine. "What do you think she wants us to do ?"
"A competition to measure who can sleep the longest would be splendid," the young general whispered back.
"That would be a godsend," Catarina giggled. "I can win even without trying."
Her giggles abruptly stopped when the Princess suddenly stopped right in front of her, and gently she placed her hands on either sides of Catarina's shoulder.
"You should have that competition tonight, Lady de Fontaine. Tomorrow, you will be painting."
Please vote and comment if you liked this chapter! Also, do check out my other story, The Usurper's Queen!