1712, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
"Have you heard? Master Lombardi was mauled to death by a wild bear!"
"Such a beautiful man, yet such a pitiful ending. The world is truly cruel."
"Why must he be taken away from us so soon? My heart aches when I think of his final moments. Imagine his divinely beautiful face, twisted in pain and agony-"
Demitria gritted her teeth in anguish as she quietly listened to the maid's chatters. It is inevitable that Rafael's death would be widely talked about throughout the kingdom, but unbeknownst to them, each and every word that came out of their mouths were like a sharp, burning hot dagger that was thrust into her heart.
The once lively and handsome young man had become a feast for a wild bear, not even leaving behind a corpse to bury. And it was all her fault.
The manner of their parting was not at all pleasant, and Demitria could not help but wonder if her rejection had pushed him to enter the military, resulting in his premature death. The dashing, charming Rafael was gone now, gone forever.
Her Rafael, the only man whom she ever loved, was gone.
Demitria abruptly stood up from her bed and rushed towards her wardrobe, flinging the mahogany door wide open.
Hundreds of dresses were neatly hung inside, made with exquisite materials such as silk brocade, taffeta, organza, satin, and muslin. There were tons of different colours too, ranging from bright pink to the deepest of green. Demitria found no need for them anymore.
She resolutely stepped into the wardrobe and plucked out each and every dress that was not black, flinging them to the floor.
"Your Highness!" she heard Ursula cry out. "What on Earth are you doing?"
Demitria paused her actions and calmly turned around to face her maid. "Take them and divide them amongst yourselves. I have no need for them anymore."
"But why, Your Highness?"
"From this day onward, I shall live as if I were a widow. I shall only wear black, and nothing else."
"Is this about Master Lombardi? You mustn't punish yourself for his death, Your Highness!" Ursula protested.
"Oh, but I must. I only have myself to blame for his passing, and now, I shall suffer this loss for the rest of my existence."
1712, De Fontaine Manor, Lorewell
"A bed of grass... A shower of sunlight... A blanket of daisies... Will you hold me tonight? "
"The wind is cold... The wolves await... But as long as you're here... I know that I'm safe..."
Catarina let out a soft sob as she toyed with the opal locket around her neck, tracing her fingers over the engraved symbol of the three-pointed orchid.
"I never should have let you leave," she murmured weakly. "How horrible it must have been, to be mauled and torn apart."
The de Fontaine Manor had always been empty to begin with, but now that Master Lombardi was gone, the bleak silence became even more unbearable.
With no letters from Jessamine and the passing of her cousin, Catarina became even more withdrawn from society, and it has been months since she left the manor. At first, she felt grief and sorrow, but now, her heart felt empty, as if there was a cold, hard stone lodged in her chest.
There was a light knocking on the door, and Rosie's voice rang, "Miss, a letter has arrived for you. From the Andrades."
Catarina wearily stood up from her place on the floor, letting her long, scraggly dark hair tumble down her slender back. She turned the doorknob, revealing her maid on the other side of the door.
"Look, Miss," Rosie said, trying to feign a smile. "It's a wedding invitation. Will you go?"
The envelope was glossy and shiny, with golden embossed letters. She reluctantly tugged the red ribbon that was tied around the square envelope and flipped it open, revealing a delicate and fragrant piece of paper in the shade of pink.
Dear Lady Catarina de Fontaine,
We invite you to share in our joy and request your presence at the wedding of Master Florian Andrade and Lady Cosmina Breckenridge. The event shall take place at the Andrade Manor in Aurigny on the 15th of March.
Viscount and Viscountess of Aurigny
"Will you go, Miss?" Rosie's voice rang. "You should go there, Miss. Go and be happy. You have been crying long enough."
Catarina's lips curled into a smile, the first in many many months. "Well then, I shall like to wear dress number 21 to the wedding."
Rosie beamed. "Of course, Miss!" she exclaimed as she headed into Catarina's wardrobe, smiling from ear to ear.
1712, Andrade Manor, Aurigny
Catarina had never been to Aurigny before. The tall, slender pine needle trees that dotted the snowy white terrain seemed so foreign to her. All her life, she had only known the vivid green leaves sprouting on the oak trees at de Fontaine manor, where the air is faintly perfumed with the sweet scent of roses.
Up north, it was bitterly cold, and Catarina regretted wearing her beloved dress number 21, which would have fared quite well if the wedding were to be held down south, but since it was held in the snowy mountains of Aurigny, it proved to be a disastrous decision.
Catarina let out a sneeze as she stepped out of the carriage, clinging tightly to Rosie for warmth. Unlike Catarina who wore a dress of lustrous silks with little to no padding, Rosie had worn sensible winter garments.
"Take my scarf, miss," Rosie insisted. "At this point, I fear that you will freeze to death."
"But then you will freeze," Catarina countered.
Rosie shook her head. "I am used to the cold, miss. Here, just take it."
Catarina carefully wrapped the scarf around her neck, and she finally felt a semblance of warmth. With Rosie in tow, she made her way towards Andrade Manor
The residence of Cosmina's husband-to-be was a vast estate built alongside the sprawling mountains of Aurigny, with four towers on each corner of the main building. The walls were a pale, creamy yellow, contrasting with the cerulean blue tiles of the roofing.
Intricately carved gargoyles and cherubs adorned the courtyard, upon entering inside, one could see the masterfully crafted gold door handles and embellishments on the manor walls.
"The ceremony shall take place in the main hall, Lady de Fontaine. I shall escort you there," a young butler said as he walked up to her.
"That is very kind of you," Rosie replied on her behalf. "My mistress would very much like that."
As they made their way toward the hall, Catarina could not help but recall the days she spent at the palace. As horrendous as the ending may be, she had to admit that she somewhat enjoyed her time there.
There was Jessamine, who treated Catarina as if she were a pearl in her palm, the apple of her eyes. Then there was Cosmina, the one who understood her the most, who never failed to make her feel beloved.
The main hall came into view, and although the décor was blindingly beautiful, Catarina had no desire to indulge herself in beauty. She walked past the faceless crowd and sat down on one of the chairs that were laid before the altar.
Despite the loud chatters around her, Catarina was quiet and wordless, her mouth dry and clamped shut. She knew nobody in this room, and she felt no desire to know. It was as if she had become invisible, nothing more than the figure in the corner of your eyes that you do not bother to take a second glance at.
But then, the chatters around her faded away, and Catarina wondered if the bride and groom had finally made their entrance. She could not have been more wrong.
There, near the entrance of the hall was the Prince and his future consort, Eleanora. If all the heartbreak in her life could be condensed into a single moment, then this would be it.
The couple wore garments of opulent gold silk, and though they were yet to be married, in the eyes of the people they already were. The child in Eleanora's belly had to be almost seven months by now, and it sickened Catarina to think that the child was conceived when the ceremony had already begun, which meant that she was also under the same roof when it happened.
She averted her gaze, trying to ignore the presence of the couple within the hall. If she were lucky, then he would not notice her, and she could silently sit there throughout the entire ceremony and then quietly leave.
However, Catarina had not been so lucky. She heard a pair of footsteps approach her row, and then they came to an abrupt halt.
Julian had not been ecstatic to attend this wedding between Lady Cosmina Breckenridge and the son of Viscount Andrade, but his mother the Queen thought that it would be good for him to travel the kingdom with his future bride in tow.
Julian knew that Catarina was close friends with Lady Cosmina Breckenridge, and he could not help but wonder if she would be here or not. He did not wonder for long though, for as soon as he stepped into the wedding hall, he instantly saw a pair of dark, limpid eyes staring at him from amongst the crowd. He felt his heart skip a beat.
There were muffled murmurs all around him, with a few people gracefully greeting him, but their voices melted into an incomprehensible noise, and the only sound he could hear was his own heartbeat. His feet became to move on their own accord, and before he could even blink, he realised that he was standing only a few feet away from Catarina.
She sat at the very end of the row, and no one was seated near her. It looked painfully lonely. An exquisite dress clung onto her bony frame, though it was much too thin for the cold north. Her face was burrowed into a scarf, and only her dull eyes and the tip of her pink nose could be seen.
He missed her, miserably, but he could never approach her, not here. He felt Eleanora's slim fingers slither around his arm, and he aggravatedly sat down. It was only after he sat down did he realise that he had sat only two chairs away from Catarina.
The space between them was so narrow, only an arm's length, but it felt so far away. He wanted to reach out for her, to hold her, but he knew that he could not.
Then, the ceremony began.
The sweet, heavenly music of the orchestra flooded the hall, with heartfelt piano notes and teetering strokes of the violin. White sunlight shone through stained glass windows, illuminating the hall. Ten or so little girls dressed in pure white ran down the aisle, giggling and shouting while tossing out a medley of flower petals with their chubby little hands.
And at the altar, stood a man. Walking down the aisle was a woman.
What if things had turned out differently for them? Julian closed his eyes.
The opulent halls of Aethiel Palace were conjured up in his mind, and he could faintly smell the sweet lavender air of the capital. The marble floors glistened underneath his feet, like water, and the crystal chandeliers above him glimmered like stars in the night sky.
He envisioned a woman. A pair of dark eyes. Long black curls. Blooming red cheeks.
And there was him. His fingers were intertwined with hers, and her dark eyes locked with his. She was smiling, as if today was the most joyous day of her life.
'Today, our wedding day, the sun shines brightly, and how could it not? Our love warms the planet because our hearts beat in unison. I adore you and am completely devoted to you. You're my light, my soul, and my love. You're the one who makes me sing, smile, and laugh all the time. Like the circle of this ring, I give it to you as a symbol of my love that is timeless, eternal, and never ending, my dear Catarina.'
She giggled in between sobs. 'Today, the world stands witness to the union of our love. I am honoured to be your wife and to be able to share my life with you. I promise to constantly stand by your side, to encourage you, and to adore you. I will be by your side for as long as we both live–for better or worse, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer. Today, and every day, you are my one and only.'
But when he opened his eyes, he saw a pair of green eyes gazing upon him instead. Long red curls, not black.
"Are you quite alright, Your Highness?" Eleanora's voice rang.
Julian did not bother to answer. The crowd around him erupted in cheers of joy as Master Florian Andrade and the now-Lady Andrade descended from the altar, a flurry of white rose petals showering them like the first snow.
Through the corners of his eyes, he glanced at the silent Catarina. The ghost of a smile bloomed on her dry, pale lips, and it disappeared as quickly as it came.
That was when he realised how weak she looked, how thin she had become.
"Catarina," he murmured under his breath, and before he knew it, he found himself heading towards her. But as soon as he did, she stood up from her chair and walked away, as if she had never saw him.
It was as if they were never destined together, never fated to cross paths.
Author's Note: No, this is not the end yet! We still have around ten chapters left, so stay tuned!