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, Palace of Norwick, Bourles
ELLIOTT never thought that such a day would come. His daughter, his dear Catarina, was getting married. While he had initially had many bones to pick regarding the union, his opposition eventually melted away with time. After all, he had married a princess himself, so who was he to speak?
Catarina resembled her mother so greatly that it was almost eerie, from her long dark curls to her impressive height. Elliott imagined that it must have caused Alberta le Prince a great deal of unease, to see the shadow of the woman you killed prancing around so freely.
"Our little girl is getting married, Lucie," he murmured under his breath as he strolled around the vast Palace of Norwick, where the Crown Prince was expected to establish his household after marriage. "It is a decent estate. I imagine that she will be quite comfortable here."
The Palace of Norwick was nowhere near as large as the Palace of Aethiel, but what it lacked in stature, it compensated with charm. The palace had been built deep in the lush green forests of eastern Ravaeryn, and a vast, blue river flowed just outside the palace compounds. The palace itself was quaint, overgrown with flowers and vines, and it lacked the stiff, formal air that seemed to dominate the Palace of Aethiel.
Elliott's intuition told him that Catarina would be very happy here, in this beautiful estate, with the man that she loved. It was the life that he had envisioned for himself and Lucianna, although their own fairytale was tragically cut short.
"I wish you nothing but joy, my dear. Your mother and I, we will always love you."
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"Miss Rosie? Is that you, Miss Rosie?" a familiar voice echoed throughout the hallway. Rosie quickened her steps. In a bizarre turn of events, she had been chosen as Catarina's bridesmaid. It was unheard of for a mere servant to become a bridesmaid in a royal wedding, and it ended up garnering some buzz among the Ravaeryn high society.
That day, Rosie had donned a gown of deep red silk, which was far more sumptuous than anything she had seen before. Her long brown hair had been pulled up into a magnificent fontage, while a few tendrils were tightly curled and placed by her neck. Her face had been powdered and her lips smeared with rouge, and when she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself anymore.
