1711, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
"Your Highness, please do not run around like that!" the middle-aged butler cried out exasperatedly as he chased after the rambunctious Prince Marcus.
The young prince only laughed in reply as he swam through the crowd of people, where his small figure disappeared in an instant.
Though Marcus had successfully maintained a calm, placid persona in front of his mother, the truth is that he was just as wild and naughty as any other child, and tonight was his chance to unleash his true self.
Unlike the mild-tempered Julian and the stern and level-headed Demitria, Marcus was free-spirited and endlessly inquisitive, and he yearned nothing more than to spend the night as a normal young boy, untied to his status as the prince of this kingdom.
He walked through the loud, merry crowd, amazed by their high spirits and love of fun. Their smiles and laughter sounded so genuine, unlike the rigid, forced laughter he was used to hearing from the palace staff.
Their joyous laughter suddenly quietened, however, and was soon replaced with gasps of surprise, and perhaps even admiration.
Marcus frowned as he pushed through the crowd, determined to get a good glimpse at the subject of their adoration, and there, standing near the entrance, he saw her.
Well, not exactly. Marcus did have poor eyesight, though he could tell that she donned a burgundy gown, a stark contrast from the pale pastels he had been seeing all across the ballroom.
Catarina's heart fluttered anxiously when she realised that all eyes were now on her. Her first instinct was to run off, but she kept her head high and took a step forward, paying no heed to the wide-eyed crowd.
It was only when she walked past them did she realise that she had no plan. Now, she stood awkwardly in the middle of the hall, where the only sound she heard was the thumping of her heart against her ribcage. Even the music seemed to have stopped, and the silence was almost deafening.
Thankfully, someone quickly came to her rescue.
"You've shown up, little kitty cat," Alessandro's voice rang as he leaned over her shoulder, catching her off guard.
Catarina first gasped with shock, then she let out a sigh of relief. "Alessandro," she laughed softly, still vividly aware of the eyes watching her and Alessandro's every move.
"Do not be afraid, kitty cat," he whispered. "They are only staring because you look exquisitely beautiful. The dress, I mean. Where did you get it?"
"I made it," Catarina replied, now feeling a bit calmer. "Is it really beautiful?"
He smiled, then nodded. "Truly. See, I knew you had some talent tucked away somewhere."
Alessandro was not exaggerating when he said that Catarina's dress was beautiful. To tell the truth, beautiful was an understatement. The dress has been made with exquisite dark red Castelonian silk brocade, though the intricate golden embroidery on the silk was barely visible as it had been covered by a layer of sheer black tulle.
The dress's neckline sat below her shoulders, with puffy sleeves which were made from tulle that extended down to her wrist. On her skirt, Catarina had sewn red silken roses on the layer of tulle, accompanied by leaves of gold and silver, and her skilled needlework made it seem as if the roses were in full bloom.
A chain of pearls with a ruby pendant rested against her collarbone, and a pair of matching earrings dangled down towards her neck.
She made sure to include House de Fontaine's colours, black and burgundy, which made the dress's colour palette rather sombre. However, the end result was much more beautiful than Catarina had expected, like a blood-red rose blooming in the dead of night with only the moon shining through.
"Let us dance, Catarina. The night is young, and so are we," Alessandro said, extending his gloved hand out to Catarina.
With a hearty chuckle, she accepted. And so they danced to their heart's content. Alessandro was a skilled dancer, as was Catarina, and the sight of the two together, dancing in their magnificent garb was almost hypnotic to watch.
Then, the dance came to an end, and the conductor of the orchestra quickly flipped through the pages of his notes in search of a piece to play.
"Will you dance the next one with me?" Alessandro asked. This time, Catarina was a bit reluctant. Her eyes darted around the room, but the person she was looking for was nowhere to be seen. She glanced at Alessandro and nodded.
Alessandro smiled and led her back to the dance floor, and by that time, the conductor had finally found a piece to play.
It was an upbeat, fiery waltz that was brimming with passion, and as soon as the music began, Catarina felt the room grow significantly warmer.
She spun and twirled as the music became more and more deafening, though she could not help but notice the knowing smile on Alessandro's face, as if he were concealing something from her.
And sure enough, they later collided with another couple. It happened in a blur, and Catarina was left gaping as she watched Alessandro dance away with another lady.
"Marguerite?" she muttered under her breath as she squinted her eyes to get a good look at Alessandro's partner. All the while, she failed to notice her own partner.
"Lady de Fontaine," she heard the familiar voice say, and immediately, she felt her heart skip a beat.
It was the Prince, the man whom she tried so hard to find that night, and now, she finally found him. Or to be exact, he found her.
However, Julian's features were completely devoid of his usual smiles, and his clear amber gaze was chillingly cold. He felt so foreign to her, so alien.
"So it was Alessandro all along, hm?" he said slowly.
"Pardon?"
"The man in your heart. Is it Alessandro?"
Catarina's dark brows furrowed as she gazed up at Julian. "No, of course not. He is my dearest friend. We've known each other since infancy."
"Your intimacy with him suggests otherwise," Julian added rather vehemently.
He spun her around along with the music, and Catarina could not help but notice how tightly he held on to her, as if he were unwilling to let go of her. His right hand, which rested on her waist, felt blazingly hot, and his grasp was tighter than necessary.
"You are hurting me-"
"If it isn't Alessandro, then who, Catarina?" Julian interjected.
The heat of the ballroom, the blaring music, accompanied with her unbearably tight corset had made her feel lightheaded, and now, Catarina felt difficult to breathe.
To make matters worse, the waltzing couples seemed to gravitate closer toward them, making the space even tighter. Catarina felt as if she were slowly being suffocated.
"Tell me, Catarina," he insisted, fastening his grip on her waist.
Catarina could not take it anymore. Her vision was blurred with black and blue spots, and the sharp teetering noise of the violin faded away as her knees gave way, sending her tumbling down to the floor.
With the last bit of consciousness that she had, she braced herself for the impact, but it never came. A pair of arms looped around her waist, and she felt herself being hoisted up.
She blinked her eyes open, and sure enough, looking down at her with worried eyes was Julian. One of his hands was wrapped around her back, while the other was tucked underneath her knees.
"Hold on, Catarina," he whispered. "I will get you out of here."
For reasons unbeknownst to her, she was suddenly overcome with trust, and she mindlessly rested her head against his hard chest.
Then, with Catarina nestled in his arms, Julian pushed through the crowd of people and rushed towards the exit.
When they finally made their way to the empty corridors, Catarina felt a blast of cold air hit her, and Julian abruptly set her down on the floor, allowing her to regain her breath.
The sound of the loud orchestra was pleasantly distant now, and her senses were no longer bombarded by the rancid amalgamation of every scent that a perfumer had to offer.
As she gradually regained her strength, she noticed that Julian was still there, kneeling beside her.
"Allow me," he said softly, and ever so gently, he began to wipe away the sweat that had formed on her forehead with a handkerchief.
Catarina almost laughed at the absurdity of his actions, and she tried to stop him by taking away the handkerchief.
"Shush," he whispered, and Catarina silently let her hands fall down by her sides.
His touch was so tender, like the kiss of a lover, and she could feel his breath fanning her face. He was merely inches away from her, and that realisation made her heart thump wildly once more.
"Your face is becoming red again," Julian said with concern. "Allow me to feel your forehead. You might be having a fever."
Before Catarina could ever say a word of protest, Julian pressed his palm against her forehead. Her eyes immediately became as wide as saucers, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips, betraying her true feelings.
"Do you feel pain, Catarina?" she heard him ask, and she begrudgingly nodded.
"I do. But it is no fever. It is the sickness of the heart."
"Sickness of the heart?" he repeated.
She lowered her head. "Mhmm. I do not know when it began, but every time I look at you, I feel it. It begins to beat erratically, as if I had just ran through a field. It twists and churns, and at times it shatters, then becomes whole again. It hurts, Your Highness. Enormously so. And I don't know what to do."
"What if I told you that I have felt the same way for the past two years ?" Julian whispered. "I have desired for you more than anything else. I want you, Catarina. I want you to be mine. Every night when I close my eyes, I see you. You have bewitched me, Catarina."
For a brief moment, there was only silence. The cold autumn wind howled and blowed, yet neither of them seemed to notice.
Slowly, Catarina's fingers reached out to touch Julian's reddened face, but before she could, she felt her wrist being swiftly grabbed and pinned to the wall behind her back.
"Don't," the Prince growled. "If you do that, I will not be able to hold back any longer."
His pale eyes had darkened, as if he were a predator circling around its prey, and she was that prey.
"Then don't," she murmured softly.
He lifted his brows in surprise, but as soon as the shock faded, his lips curved into a rapacious smile. His grasp on her wrist tightened, and his other hand crept up to her face, gently cupping her cheek.
"I want you, Catarina," he whispered, his face dangerously close to hers. She could hear his ragged breath, betraying his insatiable desire for her.
Then, without warning, his lips crashed into hers. It was not a dreamy, gentle kiss like Catarina had often imagined. Instead, he was vigorous and full of passion, and it was evident through his actions.
He kissed her long and hard, to the point where she almost became lightheaded due to the lack of air. A weak moan escaped her lips, and he reluctantly pulled away, only to attack her the soft skin of her neck next.
Catarina could feel his warm lips against her cold skin, sucking and licking so earnestly that she was certain it would leave a mark. But she could not care less. All her life, she had never tasted such pleasure before. It was a carnal desire that she never knew she wanted, but now that she had a taste of it, her heart and body yearned for more.
She shut her eyes, savouring his gratifying touch, and inhaling his strong manly scent. But when his kisses began to trail lower and lower towards her chest, she could no longer remain silent.
It was a sensation that could only be described as pure ecstasy, and Catarina could not help but let out an exalted cry. She hated how immodest she sounded, but desire seemed to cloud her better judgement.
Each kiss sent a shiver down her spine, and she writhed in his embrace. And then, it all stopped.
Drunken and dazed by this new experience, she groggily opened her eyes, only to see that Julian had pulled away from her, his face still red, though his breath had become even heavier.
"Stop it," he voiced. "Every time I hear that sweet voice of yours, I feel my desire grow tenfold. We cannot do this. Not now, not yet."
Catarina wordlessly stared at him, then gingerly touched her tender, swollen lips. Some spots on her neck were hurting too, and she was certain that they would bruise when she woke up the next morning.
Julian let out a groan as he knelt beside her and cradled her face with his warm palms. "But soon, we will. Tomorrow, the first thing in the morning, I will ask your father for your hand in marriage, and then I shall tell the Queen that I have made up my mind. You are the only one for me, Catarina, and I, I love you..."
He lowered his head and began to press light kisses all over Catarina's skin, his touch as gentle as the autumn breeze. As he kissed the corner of her lips, he could hear her whisper softly, "I love you too, with all my heart."
Then, there was a faint spark, followed by a series of rapid explosions. In excitement, Julian grasped Catarina's hand and pulled her up to her feet, and they both rushed toward the balcony. Illuminating the dark night sky were millions of golden sparks, as if the sun had shattered, and tiny fragments of it were raining down on Earth.
Tis the Night of the Golden Skies, a night of endless magic and joy. As Catarina curled her fingers around Julian's and laid her head against his chest, it began apparent that the saying is true after all.