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, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
No one would have expected that such a seemingly sweet and calm lady could harbour such hatred and vengeance in her heart.
Inside the bathing chamber, Marguerite sat on the floor all alone. Her inner clothes were still soaking wet and clung to her skin, and in front of her was her precious silk dress, horribly stained by a splash of black ink.
She did not know how it was stained in the first place, but even if she knew, the dress was already ruined nonetheless. Marguerite held onto a cleaning rag, trying her best to scourge away the stain, but to no avail.
The black splatter would remain there forever, ruining both her hopes and dreams.
Marguerite had purchased that dress with the little money she had left, in hopes that she would be able to charm the Prince and have him wrapped around her little finger.
But no matter what Marguerite did, it seemed that the Prince's eyes were always on that ditzy little fool, Catarina de Fontaine.
Now that she thought of it, Marguerite recalled that the fool and her buffoon friends chattered about a spilled pot of kohl. Her grip on the cleaning rag tightened, causing soap suds to leak between her fingers.
Catarina, Marguerite growled. Why can't you just drop dead? If it weren't for you and your family, I wouldn't be living like this! I would have been the finest lady in this kingdom, and the Prince would be mine! Mine!
The young Lady le Prince had always despised House de Fontaine, but she never tried to harm them. Not yet, at the very least. Now as she looked at that black splatter, she realised that she had long passed the threshold.
By hook or by crook, she would destroy House de Fontaine.
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"Oh, the weather is absolutely dreadful," Cosmina remarked as she pulled the windows shut. "It started on that night at the opera, and it hadn't stopped raining since."
Catarina looked up from her novel and glanced at the window. "You're right," she murmured. "At this rate, the capital city will be flooded by water."
