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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1711, Opera d'Ghislaine, Kestramore City
As soon as she took a breath of fresh air, the pain in Catarina's chest alleviated, and she finally let out a sigh of relief.
The cool night breeze gently caressed her hair, as soft as a lover's touch, and she would rather remain outside than to go inside again.
Besides, the city was much more entertaining to watch anyways. There were hundreds of stalls and shops on the side of the road, all exquisitely decorated with bright golden lanterns, and they glittered in the distance like a million fireflies.
Her gaze slowly travelled down towards her long and narrow fingers, tightly wrapped around the cold metal railings. Catarina had always thought that her fingers were particularly pretty, but as her tutor once said, they were pretty but practically useless.
She could not play the pianoforte, nor could she paint. She was not bright enough to write rivetting heart rending plays that would suit Cosmina's elite taste, and cooking was definitely not her forte.
Two years have passed since the sweet eggs incident, and she only made one improvement, which is to break the eggs in a bowl before pouring them into the pan. They still ended up as burnt bits anyways.
No words could describe how much Catarina abhorred her tutor. There must be something that she is good at, something that she has not tried before.
Eventhough she has yet to discover this revolutionary talent of hers, Catarina thought that she was nowhere near as talentless as the tutor made her seem to be. Afterall, being pretty is a talent, is it not?
"Should I try to sing ?" Catarina murmured to herself. She could still remember Lavinia Olivier's ungodly rendition of Vie Sandr il Amalia in the Prince's piano room, and she was certain that she could do better than that. At the very least, she had to be better than Lavinia Olivier.
After ensuring that there was no one at the balcony other than her, she opened her mouth and began to sing.
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Julian was about to push the balcony door open when he heard the sound of a faint singing.
It was very slow and sweet, unlike anything he had ever heard of before. Julian recognised the song to be Vie Sandr il Amalia, but it sounded very different from what he was used to listening.
