Lady Theodora has always known her path in life. As her grandmother's heir to the dukedom of Shefolk, becoming the perfect duchess is her primary goal. Her life is peaceful and her juvenile fantasies are fulfilled by travelling cousins whilst she de...
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The marble floors of the ballroom were so glossy that I could see the reflection of my deep scowl within it. The sight only further aggravated me as I thought I'd been wearing somewhat of a polite smile. No wonder I'd been receiving odd looks from the staff. And they weren't the usual odd looks either. It was as if they could sense something behind my grimace, sense the underlying stab at being nice. What a sight I had to be.
A small orchestra was off to the right, velvety tunes filling the air as Wilkins stood atop the balustrade, announcing noble after noble. Each one was dressed more pretentious than the previous; as if attempting to assert some kind of dominance over the other. I assumed the rest of the night would be like this, as it always was. A whole lot of boasting and fabricated words.
They all contended for my parents' favour, gliding elegantly down the massive staircase and across the ballroom to bow before the king and queen. Egos had been inflated so much, I was sure I could've used them to attach balloons to the entire fucking castle and float away from the bullshit of it all. The idea remained only a distant fantasy the longer the event wore on. It only became more real that I was utterly trapped with no chance of escaping whatsoever.
God, what I would give to be anywhere else.
I stood leaning against an unnecessarily large statue of some greek god, a marble bicep concealing my face from the party-goers. The Countess Jane of Duxbury was currently curtseying before the two thrones, a giddy smile on her face as she tossed poorly disguised smirks at an uncomfortable Eric. My brother stood to the left of our father, posture straight, shoulders tensed and a courteous smile on his face. His dark blonde hair was gelled back, revealing bright eyes I could see even from afar. Those same eyes watched Lady Duxbury with revulsion as she gushed over how much he'd grown. Still, he remained courteous, thanking her for journeying all the way from Duxbury to celebrate our mother.
My nose wrinkled when she asked if he'd save her a dance, and I silently observed the way Eric's brows drew together. He subtly peeked over the elderly woman's head in search of her even older husband and earl, Lord Pascal Duxbury. I wouldn't have been surprised if the man had given his last breath whilst taking the steps into the castle. He was pushing eighty at the least. But he made no appearance, leaving Eric to nod at Lady Duxbury, promising to find her later in the evening. A small wave of pity washed over me at the sight, and I reined myself in before I stomped over there and smacked Lady Duxbury's withered hand away from my brother's arm.
"She's getting out of hand, isn't she? Seems like she's waiting for Pascal to kick the bucket and Eric happens to be her next prize." The voice came from my right, and I turned to find a grimacing Sabella making her way towards me.
Despite the whispers and unhappy stares pursuing her, Sabella kept her head high, deliberately swinging her hips and forcing the already short hemline of her tight velvet dress to crawl higher. Long braids were coiled into a bun at her nape, exposing audacious make-up consisting of nearly blood-red lips and eyeshadow that ran across her nose bridge to form something she liked to call art. The woman had been painting her face for as long as I could remember. And she tended to wear some questionable things during important events.
