Nonsense! Unbelievable! Atrocious! I knew the prince was nothing more than a godforsaken impf.
All Elizabeth was receiving after the dance were stares. Some curious, some astonished, some condescending, and some...well, ready-to-kill.
And no further offers for dancing. None. Zero. It felt as if she were a prized jewel, claimed by the prince, to which nobody dared to lay an eye on. It was a relief that she didn't have to do something she despised any more, but the relief was short lived. Dormant.
What was more profound was the anger. The fury she felt as the crowd parted to make way for her, the prince's "chosen one". And all in a bloody dance!
The first dance of this season! Impossible!
Her blood boiled as she observed men trying to avoid her. More so when she thought what others saw her as right now-the prince's possession. If she had despised the prince earlier, it was nothing compared to what she felt now. It was pure, unadulterated hate.
And blood thirst.
Elizabeth already had her aunt coming in between her plans. And now she had the prince. And everybody in the room. To say this didn't bode well with her would be an understatement.
But it had just been a customary kiss on the wrist, a social obligation? Why was it such a big deal in here?
"It's a big deal because this is Warnia, Elizabeth," a sly voice sounded from her behind, answering her unspoken thoughts.
It wasn't an unknown voice. In fact, it was her favourite voice, until the voice chose to annoy her. Which was just the case at the moment.
"Greetings to you too, Catherine. I hope you find yourself well this evening," Elizabeth spun on her heels to face her sister's attractive face.
Catherine Rose Hastings was every inch the beauty one dreams to be. Her clear, fair complexion, high cheek bones and dazzling brown eyes were enough to have a person mesmerized, but it didn't end there. Her long and curly brunette hair, tall yet petite stature, thin waist and wide hips had men grovelling at her feet. It didn't help that she was the daughter of a rich marquess, having personal connections with the King of Demonire himself.
She was what the ton called 'a diamond among a sea of pearls' back in her debutante days. Just like every perfect personality has a 'but', our Catherine had it too. Her smart, over-working mouth who put every self-centred suitor of hers in his rightful place. It was her defiance against the pricks of the so-called gentlemen of the social class that had her happily don the spinster's cap at the ripe age of one and twenty.
Dear Catherine was convinced that no man was worth her, all were, in her words 'pricks with nothing to do in life other than gloat about their hunting and womanising escapades'.
With the coveted Lady Catherine off the marriage mart, disappointment must have circled among the men. Or so was the general assumption. Well, it hadn't been the case. Lords of the aristocracy, married and bachelors alike hadn't been more ecstatic.
It would have been difficult to have a bold and unruly wife, but not a lover. A bold lover only made the things more exciting. The limelight didn't leave Lady Catherine after she sought spinsterhood. Instead, it grew all the more. Now she was the most sought-after lover among the aristocracy.
The most sought-after. Not the most easily-caught one, though. Lady Catherine only entertained those she deemed worthy of her bed, and those were only a select few.
The arrival of Elizabeth's favourite cousin was a bonus. A bonus she was ecstatic she could have, because of the unforeseen obstacles that had chose to obstruct her. Lady Catherine was not your regular spinster. Unlike what the others thought about advantageous marriages and the power they brought in; Lady Catherine had garnered her power on her way.
On her way to different countries-on her foreign escapades. It was the most unusual and scandalous pursuit among women, something looked down upon by the society. But a lofty title and deep pockets had the power to silence them all.
And the knowledge about faraway lands and sexual exploits was everything that Elizabeth needed to know.
So when the said lady chose to interrupt her murderous thoughts, she obliged dutifully. Because Lady Catherine, however sly and annoying, knew exactly what she was doing. Just like the Marchioness.
"You don't seem very pleased with your first dance. It was, after all the prince you had danced with. And, not to forget the kiss on the wrist...how very enchanting," Lady Catherine smirked behind her glass of wine.
She could handle her cousin being authoritative, but not annoying. She had chosen to agitate her nerves at the wrong time, and at the wrong place. Elizabeth spared her cousin a glare, before picking up the spot-free white plate and loading it with a variety of sweets.
Sweets to appease her sweet tooth, and perhaps the spew of unpleasant words that were sure to lash out at anyone who tried to grate on her nerves. And her sister wasn't helping the situation. Catherine continued to eye the feisty girl in front of her before letting the cheek go.
"Customs like the ones that exist the continent over aren't necessarily followed in Warnia. There's no particular reason for it. They just don't deem them important enough or society-friendly. And that includes the little stunt that the Prince pulled on the dance floor. A greeting like that is only reserved for the ladies the lords favour. The ones they have a liking for," she said, taking a sip of her drink while witnessing Elizabeth's face turn into a bright shade of prune.
His act of revenge, how she had known it all along. But that didn't mean she wasn't surprised. She was, not at the act, but at the magnitude of it.
It was physical torture to not march up to the godforsaken prince and land a suitable punch on his face. But she resisted it alright. What was more important was to know Warnia better. And there was no one better who could give her an unaltered picture than her very own cousin.
Catherine looked at her for a second more, then swirled her drink before glancing up at her again. "You would like to know more, I presume. And you know how I love to talk in riddles..."
Elizabeth didn't spare an eyeroll this time.
"...so, you were assigned a ladies maid and a battalion of servants on your arrival, weren't you?" Elizabeth nodded.
"You weren't allowed a single servant from your own household to accompany you to Warnia, were you?"
No, she wasn't. In fact, now that Catherine had pointed out, it was certainly the most strange thing ever. Young, unmarried women were forbidden to travel alone, without their set of servants and hand maids. And yet, she had alone made the voyage to Warnia.
Without a single servant!
Elizabeth remained silent. Catherine's face glowed with a sense of satisfaction, clearly knowing that she had piqued Elizabeth's interest. Nobody spoke a word after that, both waiting for another to break the silence.
Elizabeth huffed in annoyance, forfeiting at last. "What does it mean?"
Catherine smirked, much to Elizabeth's chagrin. "Isn't it plain, dear? Warnia doesn't allow visitors from another land to bring in their own servants into the castle. It is, as they say, and I quote, 'a great way for their poor to find work during times of unemployment, which seems to be rampant in Warnia, and also a way to glorify Warnian culture.'"
Elizabeth's eyes widened. It was impossible for her to school her emotions at the moment. A moment of revelation, and certainly not something to look forward to. A slow worm of dread crept into Elizabeth's heart.
It was a lie. Of course, all of it was a farce. The royalty didn't give a fig about 'employment for the unemployed'. They were ways to keep conspiracies at bay. No one shall cross the borders who the King didn't know. It was whom the king trusted in every room, with his guests.
She was awed by the sheer brilliancy and lunacy of the plan.
It was then Elizabeth realised why Warnia had the reputation that it had. Warnia had ears, eyes and hands everywhere. Even in one's chamber. It was an almost impossible task to overthrow the monarchy, every coup shall fail.
Warnia was dangerous because nobody knew who must be keeping an eye on them. Who must be searching their belongings, tracing their every movement, or probably the monarch's next target?
Everything was shady, and nobody dared to uncover the shades to find what lay within.
Elizabeth wasn't interested in suicide either. It was just a matter of time before she escaped to her estate, having earned her place as the rightful heir.
All she needed was help. And Catherine was enough for that.
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