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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1712, Fort of Verdun, Southern Amaris
The snow crunched underneath Julian's feet as he approached the tent that housed his best friend, now the pretender to the throne of Amaris, King Anton's greatest threat.
Having shed his old persona a long time ago, Rafael Van Den Berg has now shown his true colours. His cold, stormy gaze was trained on the leather map spread over the table, while his anticipating fingers trailed over the hilt of his sword again and again as if he was murdering Anton a thousand times in his head.
"We will attack tomorrow, at dawn," Rafael informed Julian as soon as he walked into the tent. "Tell the general to stay put, for this war soon shall end."
"I will. Although I would advise you to put that sword down, lest you'd injure yourself before you even enter the battlefield," Julian said with a frown.
Rafael let out a low grunt as he laid the sword on the table. "I cannot help it. To think that I will finally avenge my parents tomorrow... My blood screams with excitement."
And how could he not? In 1692, Rafael's father, the Crown Prince of Amaris, Maximillian Van Den Berg had met a brutal death on the way to his own coronation, and his corpse had been strung up for all to see in the city hall.
His mother, his poor mother, had escaped to Ravaeryn with the infant Rafael in tow. She would have been safe by then, if it were not for the injuries she sustained during the botched assassination. Rosalind Lombardi, the Crown Princess of Amaris, met her end at the doorstep of de Fontaine Manor, moments after handing her son to her sister-in-law, Lucianna de Fontaine.
"What of your aunt?" Julian suddenly asked. "Do you think that the Amarisians killed her too?"
Rafael frowned. "That would be the most likely explanation. Although, there are quite a few discrepancies. My aunt had faked her death a few years prior to the uprising in order to avoid a marriage to her own half-brother, hence she escaped to Ravaeryn with the Duke of Lorewell. Here, she assumed the identity of Lucia, a runaway minor noblewoman.
If they had known that she was the Princess and subsequently poisoned her, what stopped them from doing the same to me, who had been only four at that time, and my cousin, her direct descendant?"
It was a question that constantly haunted Rafael. How long have they known? Will they soon make another attempt? Is Catarina truly safe, now that Anton thinks that he is dead and no longer a threat to him?
"Unless it wasn't the Amarisians," Julian suggested. "House de Fontaine's rise to prominence was astronomical. No family had risen to such heights in such little time. It would be inevitable for someone to hate them so deeply to the point where they are willing to shed blood. Perhaps, your aunt's murderer is walking right under our noses."
"And Catarina is her father's sole heiress," Rafael murmured.
For a moment, both men sat in austere silence, benumbed. There was only one question in their minds.
