Celine tied his handkerchief around her neck like a scarf. The fabric was warm, the scent familiar. The image of the gruesome scene flashed through her mind, his screams still ringing in her ears, tears filling his eyes, as his body convulsed, begging her for mercy, crying out, "Why?"
Yes. Why?
Celine's lips curled up.
If she ever died, she wanted her last breath to be taken by him, and no one else.
If anything was to be taken from her, it should have been by him, and no one else.
That's what she thought when the Rocheforts' were at their lowest point, when news of her father's death reached her ears, when only a young girl was left to carry the family's legacy.
Celine blinked, remembering how her father showed up in front of her a month after the engagement announcement, saving her from a terrible fate. His bloodied hands had cupped her face, rubbing away her tears, staining her skin with the enemy's blood, his lips forming an apologetic smile.
"How can a Rochefort die so easily?" he had said, his eyes twinkling, "I'm proud of you, my little dove. One day, I'm sure, you will be the one who'll fly the highest. You have nothing to fear, and everything to gain."
That's right. She still had so much to gain, but also so much to lose.
Celine walked past the guards, and they fell into place behind her, following closely.
She was used to people hating on her, but why was she so bothered by Lucian's words, that they echoed in her ears, and refused to fade away?
'He is going to stab me in the back when I least expect it.â
âNo normal person would just forgive and forget, would they?â
âI wouldn't have, and I doubt anyone else would either.'
Lucian's face flashed in her mind again and she tried to shake him off with new designs of sapphire jewelries, the whole line already taking shape in her head, a matching pair of earrings and necklace, maybe a bracelet, and a tiara for the finishing touch.
Only for the image of his bright, golden eyes and the blinding smile to return.
"Ugh," Celine groaned, feeling her temples throb, 'He hates you. Instead of moping over him, start taking measures to prevent him from plotting against you, will you?â
And yet, for some reason, her mind kept drifting to the days, when he would sneak inside her room at night,l to study together.
He always came prepared with a small vial of essence or perfume, gently dabbing some onto her wrist, a small gesture that would calm her nerves, and make the studying session much more enjoyable.
She would have a pot of tea ready, a plate of snacks for his hunger, and sometimes a new pair of gloves or socks. As winter neared, she'd have a hat and scarf waiting for him.
They were using each other for their benefits, and they both knew that, and yet, those memories seemed to have more color, more warmth, than the rest.
She found out that she understood the concept she learned much faster if she tried to teach it to someone else instead of just memorizing it the usual way, and Lucian happened to be the best option.
She didn't have the nerves and patience to put up with another person, especially when their enthusiasm for studying was as low as the number of coins in their pockets.
Lucian was the opposite. His energy and excitement were boundless, and his optimism was a cure-all for her gloominess and irritability.
It was fun.
It was...
Stolen novel; please report.
Celine's mood dropped further, her headache intensifying, the music and conversations around her blurring together into a single buzzing noise.
Yet, instead of rushing back home, she lingered.
With the guards trailing her, Celine visited the garden, plopping onto the bench. Placing the book on the table, she rested her chin in her palm and closed her eyes, listening to the crickets, the leaves rustling, the sound of a violin somewhere nearby, and the soft whispers of the wind.
She was tired, the events of the evening wearing her out, and her feet were killing her.
· · âââââââ · â±ââ°Â· âââââââ · ·
Meanwhile, Jax was fuming as he threw the handkerchief at Lucian, "That damned witch! Who the hell does she think she is, acting so high and mighty?! I'm never getting anywhere near her again! You hear me, Lucian? Remind me to never make a bet with you ever again!"
"Did something happen?" Lucian caught the handkerchief, watching Jax pace around the balcony, venting his anger.
"Do you have any idea what it felt like, to ask the most stuck-up, arrogant, and rude woman in the world for a dance? And the way she looked at me, like I'm a speck of dust on her dress, an insect buzzing around her head! Do you have any idea, Lucian? DO YOU?!" Jax ranted, gesturing wildly, "She was a total bitch! If the Crown Prince didn't interfere, I would have knocked some sense into her and taught her a lesson!"
"And that would have gotten you into a lot of trouble, so count yourself lucky," Lucian commented, "It's not the end of the world."
"Oh, shut up, and let me enjoy the moment of wallowing in self-pity."
"Enjoy all you want, but you're not getting off the hook that easily. You still owe me a hundred gold pieces," Lucian reminded him, tucking the handkerchief into his pants pockets.
"You sadistic bastard! You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"I'm merely having fun, Jax, and I know you are too. This is why you agreed to the bet in the first place, isn't it?" Lucian humored him.
Was it always this bad? He wondered. He rarely saw her interact with other people when they were together, so he didn't have the full picture. It seemed that she really was disliked by many.
Who was the person who showed him that glimpse of a different side, and what was the truth? The person, who would smile, laugh and tease him, or the one who had a permanent scowl on her face and a venomous tongue?
He was too busy with his side projects to pay attention to the rumors and gossips, and she always said they were lies and slander. He trusted her, and the times, when he heard her defend herself, she was calm, composed and her arguments were rational.
Being too briliant and skilled would paint a target on her back, and being too weak and helpless would make her the victim of bullying. It was a fine line she had to walk, and he was sure she had mastered it over the years.
Lucian walked inside the ballroom, and began asking for the Crown Prince's whereabouts.
Not much effort was required. The Crown Prince appeared in the ballroom shortly, and made his way towards him, grabbing a drink on the way while offering polite farewells to the guests.
The banquet was coming to an end. The staff started cleaning up, and the last of the dancers trickled out, leaving the ballroom empty.
Lucian's eyes moved to The Crown Princeâs gloves in a silent question. They didn't match the attire as if he put them in a hurry, without paying much attention.
"I can see you're having fun."
"I'm having the time of my life, that's for sure," Lucian replied with a smile, "Shall we discuss your proposal in more detail?"
"My office is just a few minutes away from here, we'll be able to talk undisturbed there," the Crown Prince suggested.
"That would be great," Lucian agreed, and the two of them started making their way out of the ballroom.
On their way, Lucian noticed a few flustered guards, looking around in panic. One of them spotted the Crown Prince, and immediately rushed to his side, whispering something in his ear.
"What do you mean, fell asleep?" the Crown Prince asked sharply, causing the man to stiffen.
Lucian's legs moved before his mind caught on. He heard enough to piece the information together.
Celine was a light sleeper, always quick to stir at the slightest noise, always aware of her surroundings. So, for her not to wake up from the murmurs of the guards or the soft shuffle of footsteps would be strange.
Lucian couldnât shake the feeling that something was off. Was she feigning it?
Celine lay with her head cradled in her arms, eyes closed. She looked vulnerable, her posture slumped, yet there was something about her that kept others at a distance.
The table was littered with various foods, and a half-full glass of orange juice. Celine didn't drink alcohol as far as he knew, so it didn't strike him as odd. She couldn't risk getting drunk, and her judgment getting impaired. He did notice, however, the way her breathing was labored.
She should have heard them by now, should have stirred at the disturbance, but she remained still, as if the world around her had simply faded away.
Lucian outstretched his hand to check her temperature. He was a few inches away, his fingertips almost grazing her skin, when the guard stopped him.
"Sir, with all due respect, please refrain from touching Lady Rochefort if you don't wish to have her wrath fall on your head," the guard from before warned, "Only His Highness is permitted such proximity.â
A lump of emotion rose to Lucian's throat, his hand still outstretched in mid-air, "It looks like she has difficulty breathing. The corset is probably too tight."
"Call for her maid and the doctor," the Crown Prince ordered, and the guards dispersed to follow his orders.
He appeared beside Lucian, his gaze sharp, calculating, watching her as if expecting her to act all wronged to gain his attention.
His hand moved to her back, but before he could loosen the strings, his wrist was grabbed in a deathly grip, and his eyes met with Lucian's.