♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE PREQUEL, THE GOLDEN PRINCESS, TO READ THIS BOOK!♦
BEWARE--spoilers in this blurb, for those who have not read previous books! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Kings. Queens. Princes & Princesses. Duchesses and Dukes. And... regents?
Eve...
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As Céleste had anticipated, all the women at court ignored her.
It started on February fifth, as she scurried about the castle to find a messenger brave enough to ride to Giroma as fast as possible. She bumped into a group of ladies who usually greeted her. Instead, they sneered, tugging at their petticoats as if poison radiated around her, and flapped their beaks as she walked by.
Thankful as she was to not have to engage in polite chatter with them, or feign excuses to avoid the Solar—the guards loured at her as if she brandished a gun in their faces—it pained her that foul rumors would spread so quickly.
What had Charlotte said to tarnish Céleste's reputation this much, this fast? "Céleste is a cruel snake and you should not speak to her," or "She is vile and petty and untrustworthy, and not a good friend," were what she imagined, and each word brought chills to her spine.
In the absence of a Queen, and without Cordelia around, Jules' wife was the woman with the most power in the castle—though unbeknownst to her, another resentful woman hid in the building.
At the thought of said woman, Céleste uncovered a solution to her messenger problem. Clémentine had access to her spies, now; surely one of them had the means to get a letter to Westten Castle.
So Céleste snuck to the Royal Floor and, after negotiating with the guards before the Queen's bedroom door, she consulted with the Duchess.
The Duchess disapproved at first—too perilous—but she consented to help after reading the note and deeming it cryptic enough. She gave Céleste the name of the Lord from Epifort, and promised he would get the message to Marguerite in record time.
After encountering the man—a gruffy, grumpy individual—Céleste's heart weighed a tad less, despite her mistrust for Clémentine.
When more noblewomen glared at her when she passed them, she ended up spending the rest of the day in her chamber.
On February sixth, she woke from nightmares of Julia marrying Napoléon, and Denis pointing his finger at Céleste, blaming the situation on her.
Throat aching, eyes stinging, she roamed the building in search of Julia, hoping to weed out a few truths from her, and to ensure such a horrid plan—wedding a French general—was off the table.
She started by begging the soldiers stationed at the Solar door, and through gritted teeth they admitted they had not seen Julia yet that day. In the Dining Room, she located a few younger men attempting an early drinking contest. In the Reading Room, she interrupted a clandestine—and likely illegal—meeting between a serving girl and one of Cordelia's ladies. Céleste briefly interrogated the latter, but she assured her she had no news of Cordelia's coordinates.
By midday, already exhausted, Céleste settled in the Library and drowned in piles of books. She enlisted a page boy—who swore he knew the comings and goings of everyone in the castle—to keep her appraised of Charlotte's whereabouts, of Jules' occupations, and any Julia sightings. But he had nothing to give her by the time she exited for supper.
