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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trigger warning: rape and death
1711, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
"It was a pleasure to dance with you, Lady le Prince," Alessandro d'Augustine's voice rang as soon as the waltz ended. "It would be my greatest joy if you were to grant me the honour of dancing the next waltz with you."
Marguerite deafened her ears to Alessandro's words, and instead, her eyes were wildly searching for the Prince, and most importantly, the de Fontaine whore who had snatched him away from her. Much to her disappointment, neither of them could be seen.
"Lady le Prince," Alessandro called out, noticing Marguerite's sudden change in temperament. As in the case with Catarina, he knew Marguerite ever since they were toddlers too, though he was never quite fond of her.
He found her to be sickly sweet at times, as if her manners had been rehearsed beforehand, and at times, her gentle and demure persona would crack, giving him an insight into the demented soul that resided deep within Marguerite.
But Alessandro had to admit that she was indeed a good actress. When he told his mother about Marguerite's odd behaviour, Lady Cecilia d'Augustine would say that he was being cruel, and that he should apologise to Marguerite whenever they crossed paths. He never did, and he never planned to do so.
Tonight, he had purposely led Catarina to Julian, in hopes that the Prince would finally get the guts to confess his love rather than to silently brood in a corner. Although his plan seemed to have worked, he was now stuck with Marguerite le Prince.
"Will you dance the next waltz with me?" he reiterated, though it was all pleasantries.
Marguerite scoffed as she glanced elsewhere, and said, "No. I am needed elsewhere."
Upon hearing that, Alessandro silently let out a sigh of relief. As he watched Marguerite huffily walk away, he grabbed a glass of wine from the refreshment table. Now, all that he had to do was to wait for the wedding invitations to be sent out.
Marguerite was not as joyful as Alessandro was, no, not in the slightest. Tonight was her greatest opportunity, and she thought that she already had him wrapped around her little finger. How wrong she was.
She began to round the entire ballroom in search of the Prince but to no avail. Marguerite had worn her mother's old pearl-encrusted shoes, an ancient relic that the le Princes had not been able to pawn off, and while the shoes were still quite lovely, they were two sizes too small for her.
Her toes felt as if they were being squished inside the shoes, and her ankles began to ache. Before long, even taking a single step felt unbearable for Marguerite.
With great difficulty, she waddled towards the nearest chair and sat down, but before she could even catch her breath, Marguerite saw Nathaniel rushing towards her, his face twisted with agony.
