It is the season for love and murder in the court of Ravaeryn.
After a chance encounter one winter night, Lady Catarina de Fontaine had fallen hopelessly in love with Julian, the Crown Prince. However, upon discovering his untruthfulness, she immedi...
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1709, Lorewell
"Miss, Master Rafael has returned !" Rosie exclaimed loudly as she burst into the room, face flushed and red, eventhough it was snowing heavily outside.
Catarina, who was laying idly on top of her silken sheet covered bed, with her face slathered with a facial mask made of snail slime and aloe vera, simply nodded and said, "Oh."
"He brought a friend too, Miss," Rosie hissed, and Catarina raised one of her delicately trimmed brow in intrigue.
"Oh ?" she murmured, lifting up the sliced cucumber that covered her left eye, while letting the other one be.
"Which friend is it ? If it's just Alessandro, tell them that I am sick and that I am unable to receive guests as of currently," she mumbled, as it was hard to talk with the mask on.
"I think it's that man from before, during the last night at the academy, Sebastian !" Rosie beamed cheerfully. Catarina shook her head, raising her left hand, and gestured 'no' to Rosie.
"Actually it's Bastien, not Sebastian," she corrected snootily as she gently placed the sliced cucumber back on her eyelid, smiling smugly. "Wait, Bastien is here," she suddenly gasped.
"Yes, Miss. That is exactly what I have been trying to tell you," Rosie replied, a hint of annoyance lacing her voice.
Catarina abruptly sat up, sending the cucumber slices off flying, and the facial mask began to drip down her chin, and it looked like as if her face was melting. "He's already here and I'm looking like this ! Quick, fetch dress number 54!"
"Are you talking about the pink flowered robe a l'anglais with the silk ribbons and tight bodice and large cuff sleeves ?" Rosie cried out as she ventured into the closet.
"No Rosie, that is number 32! Number 54 is the yellow robe a l'anglais with chartreuse stripes, laced bodice and extra large sleeves !" Catarina hastily corrected as she haphazardly slipped her white stockings on.
Exactly thirty minutes later, Catarina was standing in front of the mirror, wearing the immaculate dress number 54, her glossy black hair coiffed into a delicate updo.
"Miss, don't you think that we should go downstairs now?" Rosie interjected, frowning at the sight of her mistress admiring herself in the mirror.
As she turned around, Catarina flashed a bright, almost blinding smile for Rosie, and shook her head.
"It's perfect, Rosie. I look so beautiful that I can't bear to look away from the mirror."
Rosie sighed and walked towards the door. "I'll just tell Lord Bastien that you can't receive guests then. That you're gravely ill." Sick in the head, she would like to add, but of course she did not dare to.
