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.
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When Marguerite is forced to return to Torrinni cour...
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Hours passed—pacing, puffing, pacing some more.
Céleste's woes worsened with every passing minute. She dragged her nails down her cheeks so much she worried she'd peeled off her skin. Her brain throbbed because of all the nightmares she'd caged within.
She is the Duchess again.
Johanna later confirmed this, and told her what Marguerite did. Now they waited together, and went from peering out the window to watch the sun set, to staring at the fire so much their eyes burned.
Where was she? What was she doing? Was she aware of the consequences of her decision?
Even once the sky swirled with velvety violets and sprinkled with glittering diamonds, the Duchess didn't resurface.
"It may be best for you to sleep, Miss," said Johanna, yawning as she fought her slouching posture while seated on Céleste's vanity chair.
"Sleep? You think I could," Céleste released a longer and larger yawn, "doze off with all thishappening?"
Johanna prepared to reply, but the adjoining door burst open, and Marguerite stood in its threshold.
Her golden curls were wavy and wild, and her gaze was dim and distracted. "Ladies?"
"Maggie!" Céleste dashed over to her. "Where have you been?"
"Calm down," said Marguerite, shoving her arms out to stop Céleste from smacking into her.
Johanna winced as she cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders, stiff from how she'd been sitting. "Is everything all right, Miss? I mean—Your Grace?"
Marguerite's lips trembled as she attempted a smile. "Well..." She stepped into the room, but her wobbling caused Johanna to vacate the vanity chair and allow her to sit in it.
She sank into the cushions and let out a lengthy breath.
"Are you hurt?" Céleste's breaths accelerated at the thought of anyone physically harming her Director.
"Not on the surface." Marguerite's voice was frail. "I was with Sébastien. And Antoine, for a spell. We were brainstorming. I made a grave mistake—"
"—you retrieved your title and endangered yourself to save your King? Yes, we are aware." Céleste huffed. "Emeric told me."
"Your Grace, why did you do it? You would not explain it to me before." Johanna kept herself at a distance, angled against the armoire, fiddling with her messy braid.
Shadows danced across Marguerite's face. "I thought it was the only way. To sneak into that meeting and put an end to the grand scheme. Thank you for delaying the Dowager, by the way." She flashed a smirk at Johanna, though it resembled a painful sneer. "It was most helpful. But it appears I only made things worse."
