Marguerite, the former Duchess of Torrinni, receives two letters that will change the course of her life forever; and that will impact young Céleste Richel's life too, in more ways than one.
*****
When Marguerite is forced to return to Torrinni cour...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Standing before the giant window-panes, staring out onto the semi torch-lit gardens, Marguerite sighed. Her breath fogged up over the glass and she wiped the surface with her sleeve. She'd assigned a serving girl to fetch her a cloak ages ago; she hadn't grabbed her own to avoid rousing Céleste's suspicion.
The girl had tried to follow her, Marguerite knew; but for both their sakes, she hoped she'd returned to her room. Céleste's spying was a risk she couldn't take. It would jeopardize her already fragile situation.
The serving girl appeared at last, carrying a scruffy and used brown coat; it would suffice. She also produced a lantern, warning the path would be treacherous once she passed the Gardener's Cottage.
The Gardener's Cottage was her destination.
She threw on the shroud, lifted the hood, thanked the girl, and clutched the light. Each motion sent shivers up her arms as memories of similar moments unfurled in her gut and swirled in her mind.
Clémentine would be in the Solar, and Adelaide with her or yelling at servants in the Ballroom. Sébastien would be lounging in the Library, and Jules likely gallivanted in town—she'd heard of his escapades by many a serving girl at the Academy.
This would be her only chance. But upon re-entering, she'd have to use the underground halls to sneak about and reach the service stairs.
Moonlight spilled onto the polished floors as she gathered her courage and marched to the garden doors.
The guard straightened up as he glanced down at her. "Miss?"
"I am going to take a stroll outside. Is that forbidden?" She kept her chin low, wary of being recognized, like earlier.
The man grunted. "Should you not have a chaperone with you?"
"I am a chaperone." She stifled a groan, quite tired of repeating herself. "I am the Director of the Academy, and I wish to get some air. Watching over all those girls makes me want to faint."
He chuckled and moved aside. "Fine. But be careful—the pathway can be slippery at night."
As she passed the threshold, a whiff of ice nipped at her cheeks. She sucked in the fresh oxygen and prayed she'd never have to brave such conditions for him again.
Amid her unwinding emotions, the tingling cold made her smile. She enjoyed the chill and breathed in the winter breeze with pleasure, happy to leave the stuffy confines of the scary place she no longer called home.
Her heels crunched on the frosty pebbles, so she obeyed the guard's instructions and paced herself.
The grounds up ahead were ominous, but she didn't fear them. She knew them best by night, anyway. The parallel pathways, bordered with colorful tulip bushes and lively wildflowers—she could navigate them with her eyes closed. At the moment, however, most vegetation had gone to sleep for the season.
