♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE PREQUEL, THE GOLDEN DUCHESS, TO READ THIS BOOK!♦
BEWARE--spoilers in this blurb, for those who have not read previous books! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
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The world is upside down, and those you thought you knew... you no longer...
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The next day, Céleste received an invitation to travel into Torrinni City, to explore the town and its potential venues, to inspect the cathedral, to taste local dishes. Prince Jules and Charlotte decided to employ outside help for their wedding meal, as a gesture to the people. Though Céleste admired the intention, she suffered through the entire process.
Charlotte once caught her zoning out the carriage window instead of listening to her babbling about the wedding dress she'd finally found. She yelled—but Céleste talked her way out of the girl's anger by claiming to be stalking the landscapes for perfect places that a painter might paint her royal portrait at. Charlotte liked that idea, and allowed Céleste to remain in her thoughts for the rest of the ride.
Later, in the cathedral, Charlotte barked at an altar boy for more light. Céleste, still stuck in her dreams, knocked over a pillar, which pulled on a string, which brought down a curtain—and Charlotte's requested light blasted in. Céleste had stilled, her jaw dropping, as Charlotte clapped and ordered that that curtain be opened for her ceremony. She had no clue Céleste hadn't meant to help; she was only being her usual clumsy self.
At one of their restaurant tastings, Céleste scarfed down a meat pie too fast, and choked on a massive piece. Instead of screaming at her, Charlotte took it as a sign to not use that cook's services.
The future Princess spent most of the day running over the cobbled streets of Torrinni, hands flapping about with excitement, adrenaline, or anger. Julia was always in her shadow, trying to tame her. Cordelia tagged along, rolling her eyes at every occasion, often linking her arm with Céleste's while whispering under her breath.
All the relentless meandering around the city had one advantage; it tired Céleste so much that that night, she slept better than she had in weeks. She had no haunting memories of Prudence, saw no ghosts of Clémentine, and didn't hear Adelaide's whispers about dashing off to find a new King to terrorize. Nor did she think of her father's cruel letter and its consequences.
When she woke, on January the fifteenth, fresh and rejuvenated, she stretched, and promised herself today would be a good day. No Charlotte meetings were planned, and she had no tedious lessons or events in the evening. Today, she could take care of herself, and what she craved most was to see her betrothed and do her damndest to not divulge Antoine's secret discussions with the military.
She scribbled a note requesting that Sébastien meet her for breakfast or lunch or both, then settled onto her sofa with a sigh. In her silence, her father's words came back to bother her, threatening to dampen her mood. But she'd received no news from him, meaning Antoine's trick of wasting time had worked. For now.
Had Sir Richel figured she'd turn to the King for help? Or had he expected his youngest to heed his every word, never disobey, and be the sweet yet spunky daughter he'd raised?
Céleste had changed while at the Academy. Her first few years she'd been timid, kept to herself, stuck her nose in books; but in her Junior year, thanks to her Golden Girl book, she'd blossomed. She gotten caught reading it, talked back to those who'd punished her, defied Seniors for mocking her... but did her father know any of this? He'd visited over the years, but the professors—and even Prudence—never seemed to apprise him of his daughter's sly transgressions.
