Elliotte used to always escort me on special occasions.

We would always have to arrive to events before Blanche and our mother, so somewhere while growing up it had become our custom. A few moments to ourselves, usually full of Elliotte teasing me for being nervous, or me chiding him while he nursed yet another hangover. It had always been our special thing.

So when Jourdon arrived to escort me to dinner, for a few moments I couldn't shake the pang in my chest. The wrongness of not seeing Elliotte there. I hesitated a moment before taking his arm--a hesitation that did not go unnoticed. But I couldn't shake the momentary disappointment, the urge to go back to my room, close the door, and wait for Elliotte to arrive instead. To stay there until I was back home again, all of this a bad dream.

But it wasn't I was here in Garnette, and it was clear based on his frown and impatient gaze that Jourdon still held no affection for me.

Tonight Jourdon looked more put together--more like the man I had envisioned. He had traded in his suit for a finely pressed dark long coat, his embroidered sleeves encrusted with glittering garnets. It even appeared someone had attempted to tame his disheveled hair. But his cool affect and silence remained unwavering. I took his arm, turning my gaze towards the hallways, unable to ignore how his body tensed once he touched me.

How would I ever fix this? Despair lingered out of sight, making my breaths shudder until I managed to contain it. I would fix this.

I had to.

Jourdon led me to a set of double doors. He turned to address me, his frown deepening.

Something told me there was more than the Queen's ill health bothering Jordon.

"In a few moments you will meet my father," he said, cooly, his voice lowered so only I could hear. "I do not know what you have heard of him in Rosailles, but he might not be what you expect."

I regarded Jourdon, not sure what to make of him. He held me at a distance, no warmth to suggest he was my friend, yet there was an urgency to him--no matter what he thought of me, his father was worse. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

Jourdon sighed, rubbing a finger over his scar before looking at me again. There was a flicker of...something, but it was gone before I could place it. "My father likes to be entertained, and I fear this evening you, as the Rose Princess, may become easy prey for his entertainment. Just do not give into his wiles and he will bore of it quickly."

I let his words sink in before giving a short nod, trying to prepare myself for what would greet me beyond the dining hall's doors. "Well, there are many nobles in Rosailles like that as well. Nothing I haven't dealt with before."

Jourdon studied me for a moment. "Perhaps." His voice was tight. "I just thought it imperative that I warn you."

The juxtaposition of the concern in his words against the practiced indifference on his face did little to warm me. Governess Bernadette had told me multiple times that women were not viewed the same in Garnette as they were in Rosailles. That showing vulnerability and modesty were ideal feminine qualities.

And I really wanted to appeal to Jourdon, I did. But his concern... I just couldn't tell if it was genuine. One minute he worried I was meek and easily upset, the next he looked upon me like I was the evil Rose-blooded witch his ancestors would have called me. I could not be both, surely he could see that.

"I'll be fine," I replied, somewhat sharply.

If Jourdon caught my tone, he didn't acknowledge it. He nodded to the doorman, who flung open the doors with a flourish as we entered.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Jourdon Gilroy Laurient, Crown Prince of Garnette!" called out a herald as we stepped inside.

Several tables filled the room, one long one at its head. Chandeliers glittered overhead, the main difference from my Great Hall at home—back in Rosailles—being the lack of angels and the very different depictions in the art that made up the walls. Most featured men seated heroically in battle, dark haired and darker eyed. Garnets and gold glittered at nearly every turn. Several courtiers leaned together to whisper, their eyes following me as we swept inside. "And his betrothed, Her Highness Ophelia Giselle Rosiers, Princess of Rosailles."

Whispers flitted behind black feathered fans, the courtiers' rapt attention narrowing in on me, hundreds of eyes weighing down against my skin. As suffocating as it was, I held my chin high. Jourdon's cautions still coiled around me, irritating me more with each step.

Did he really think me so weak I would fall apart at the first royal to try and test my patience? No one would have thought my mother or Blanche were incapable of keeping a hold on their emotions.

I pressed my lips together and tried to cool my anger. Jourdon still barely knew me, and perhaps it was his way of trying to be kind. I should be grateful.

The thought made me want to laugh. For all I knew, with how Jourdon hated me, this was just a way to put thoughts in my head. Mess around with my emotions. Scare me away.

A raucous laugh filled the room. I followed the sound to see a man sitting at the center of the table, the seat directly beside him filled with not the queen, but a tall, regal, dark hair-beauty. She wore her age with elegance, her raven dark hair piled up around her head in a marvelous cascade of curls, a large poof starting at her hairline, accentuating her features. Like the rest of the women in Garnette, she did not paint her skin white, instead a sheen of shimmer warming her already golden skin. Her kohl-rimmed eyes were set on us.

The man beside he was well on in his years, his once large frame already starting to curl in at the shoulders. Unlike most in the court, it was clear he was wearing a wig, the false dark hair styled short, but curled in perfect ringlets around his face. He wore lipstick and had gold dust gathering in splotches against his face. A crooked crown sat atop his head, its garnets shining dully. Before him sat a glass of wine, a servant standing behind him with a canteen, ensuring his cup was never empty.

The king. King Gilroy Laurient.

Beady eyes fixed on me, and a leering smile curved his thin lips. "You are even fairer than they say. Come here, girl. Let me look upon you."

I hesitated, looking between the king and the woman beside him. This was not Queen Carissa, who likely rested in his sick bed right now. Though I knew in Garnette the bloodline was carried on by its men, the blatant disrespect to their queen made me hesitate. I glanced to Jourdon out of the corner of my eye. He appeared to have moved closer to me, almost protectively, unable to hide the glare he gave his father, his lips pressed shut.

Interesting.

I met the King's gaze, planting a  blank expression on my face. Once we reached the table I lowered myself in a practiced curtsy.

King Gilroy leaned back lazily, dragging his glass of wine to his lips, several golden rings glinting at his fingers. "That hair. It truly is delightful." His eyes traversed over me, lingering on the swell of my breasts. I itched to return to my rooms and bath all over again, hoping to wash myself from the touch of his eyes alone.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Behind us, the courtiers whispered. To so blatantly point out my hair was likely considered a slight to them, with their preference for onyx locks. There were also the rumors that I knew circulated about Rose Heir's. Though I had yet to hear any of them directly, I knew some of them to be quite...unkind.

Remembering my strict etiquette, I let a congenial smile grace my lips.

King Gilroy indicated the set of seats to his left, on the other side of him. There sat three empty chairs. "Please, have a seat. We have a long evening ahead of us. Madame Etienne has outdone herself as usual with tonight's entertainment." The woman beside him smiled, her dark eyes penetrating. I looked away, trying to figure out how Madame Etienne fit in. Was she a mistress? It was known the king had many. But something told me this woman was more than that. She nodded to me, and it did not go unnoticed that she remained seated despite he rank being lower than  mine and Jourdon's.

The king gave a slow predatory smile, bring my attention back to him. "I look forward to getting to know you, Princess Ophelia."

A chord of tension passed through the arm connecting me to Jourdon.

With another curtsy, I straightened and allowed Jourdon to lead me to our seats. Eyes stuck to me, and I was aware of how out of place I must look. My Roserian dress was too vibrant, made of up of soft pastel pinks and blues, at odds with the deep, dark tones favored by the northern Garnetti nobles. My pale skin and rose-colored hair were like a beacon against their dark waves of night.

We settled into our seats, Jourdon taking his place next to his father. The seat next to me remained empty, and I connected gazes with Darren as he settled in among the guards--relief flooding me with his presence. He had traded his golden Roserian armor for the preferred dark shades of the Garnetti Court, almost making his unrecognizable.

An arm reached past me, filling my glass with violet colored wine. I looked up to see Sabine, her eyes downcast in respect. She too had switched out her rose colored Garnetti dress for the grey garments of the Garnetti Court. She met my eyes briefly, nodding before withdrawing to the back of the room with the other servants. Strange that she would be serving dinner, as she was my personal handmaid. Were they short staffed?

I still did not really care for her, but now finding myself alone in the foreign court, knowing she was only a few steps away from me brought me some comfort. At least with her and Darren in the room, a little bit of home lingered with me. I wasn't completely alone.

I exhaled. Jourdon was looking steadily forward, his wine untouched. A pursed expression had taken over his face as his father continued to laugh and flirt with the women around the table. Like he had just ate a particularly sour grape.

I leaned over, keeping my voice low. "Who is that woman, Madame Etienne?"

Jourdon's jaw was tense, and he kept his voice low so at to not be overheard. "Marquise Etienne, one of my mother's Ladies in Waiting. She often advises my mother and speaks for her when she is ill." He turned to me. Cool and indifferent. "This betrothal is much a result of her influence. It was she who advised my mother, and thus my father, to agree to a marriage between us."

My stomach sank. Jourdon's distaste for the Marquise was apparent. He had more difficulty hiding it than he did his other emotions. I could see it now. It was not just his ill mother that resulted in Jourdon's indifference. He eyed me, watching my reaction, but I was careful not to flinch. If Jourdon disliked the Marquise, it logically followed that the betrothal orchestrated by her would also not be to his liking.

It was too much. Pride or not I was unable to meet Jourdon's gaze, looking away. "I see," I replied, barely keeping my voice steady. "She must be very wise then to advise the queen on such things."

Jourdon was silent. I didn't try to look at him to see how he was reacting. I suspected I would see nothing different. Just measured distance, mistrust—that was what it was. Jourdon didn't trust me. And not just because I was the enemy--because I was associated with the woman currently sitting in his mother's place while she lay ill.

I knew I needed to try and earn his trust, to try and build something for this relationship. But it was like I had been given scraps of fabric and told to make a dress. There were already too many things working against me. I didn't want to have to grovel and pretend in order to please him. He had been all I wanted, all I had allowed myself to want, but even that had been taken from me.

Now here I was, in an enemy kingdom, betrothed to a man that did not want me, surrounded by people who looked at me like a foreign bird in a cage. Frustration boiled inside my chest, prickled at my skin. A sensation, deep inside me, shifted. A soft whisper coiled at my ear. Like an Angel had crouched down, right next to me, trying to soothe me. I almost closed my eyes and gave in.

A voice broke through my thoughts.

"Your Highness, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I have never seen a Roserian before. Did you travel well?"

I opened my eyes to see a female courtier in front of us. She had dark hair, only it was clear that under all the dark powder it was a shade closer to Jourdon's rather than the dark midnight she was going for. She had glittering green pigment around her eyes, emeralds dripping from her ears and neck. She gave a low curtsy. "Lady Josephé Cabot, Duchess of Emeralds."

I gave her a polite node, trying to swallow the swell of emotion tugging in my gut. I was still here. Still in Garnette. I could not let them see me weak. "It went well, thank you. It is my first time becoming acquainted with Garnette as well."

Her eyes widened. "So brave," she exclaimed. "Coming all the way to a foreign kingdom you have never even seen!"

I smiled, but it was forced. I wanted nothing more than to flee and be alone with my thoughts. The whispering angels made my head throb, and suddenly the lights were too bright. I needed to get it together. Even if Jourdon didn't want this marriage, I was still going to marry him. I was still going to do my duty, serve my queendom. Perhaps, once we knew each other better, I could find a way past the barriers Jourdon seemed so determined to keep around himself with me.

As quickly as Josephé had appeared, more courtiers took her place. Men bearing shades of lipstick brighter than my hair, and ladies with gems indicating the regions they came from dripping from their necks and ears.

I greeted them politely, trying to distract myself. Each courtier introduced themselves, flocking to me. To impress me, or to get a glimpse of me up close, I was not sure. Jourdon remained a silent wall at my side. Just as everything was starting to overwhelm me, the doors were swung open, and the courtiers paused, turning to look at a dark figure as he strutted into the room.

It was the same man I had seen earlier in Prince Pierre's chambers. Only now his clothing was back in order, his blood red lips meticulously painted, not a stray thread out of place. His inky dark hair showed no need to darken it, its raven-like sheen shining brightly under the lights of the hall. Thick dark brows accentuated sapphire eyes rimmed in kohl. He wore the clothing of a man, but his long coat was opened to reveal a decorative golden corset shaping his waist. Black breeches were styled slim to his long legs—a bold and daring choice. Upon his feet he wore high black heels, golden buckles clinking together as he walked into the room.

Our eyes met, and the same smirk I had been privy to before slowly spread across his lips. He didn't look away, and I broke eye contact quickly, a knot twisting in my stomach. A traitorous blush started at my neck and settled on my cheeks as I remembered what I had witnessed earlier.

"His Highness, Pierre Aurel Laurient, Prince of Garnette."

My heart thudded. This man was Prince Pierre? I should have known when I saw him in his room...but he seemed so different. The opposite of Jourdon. Where Jourdon was composed, quiet, distant—Pierre was loud, even when he wasn't talking. I sensed his gaze still hadn't left me, and found the silverwear before me much more fascinating than I had before. Why was he looking at me like that? Catching the attention of someone so...wicked... couldn't be good.

Prince Pierre made his way to the seat next to me, pausing to dip into a low bow. He held out his hand to me. I hesitated before giving him mine. He placed a kiss upon it, letting his lips linger as he gazed up at me He left a smudge of red paint on my skin when he pulled away.

"You must be our newest Princess," he said, voice surprisingly low. "How I have eagerly anticipated your arrival." His eyes swept over me, appreciative. Only unlike the King's, this time I only flushed harder, vividly aware that everyone was staring, waiting. Everyone was eager to see how I would react. I kept my lips tight as I gave him a polite smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness." I drew my hand away quickly, giving Pierre a nod. A grin spread his face and he took the seat next to me. Briefly, the Angel's quieted and I let out a sigh.

This was going to be a long night.

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Hi everyone! Got to meet more of the Garnetti Court in this one, particularly Prince Pierre ;) I hope everyone is doing well and still enjoying things so far. Don't forget to vote and comment!

-Kat.xox