1711, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City

The skies were a beautiful blend of greys and blues, like a solemn watercolour painting, and trailing down the canvas were clear droplets of rain.

Why does it always rain whenever I see you?

       "Come with me. I will escort you back to the palace."

Julian's words fell on deaf ears, and Catarina found herself mindlessly staring at him. Those bright amber eyes glowed like liquid gold, and Catarina was certain that even the most talented of painters could not recreate the beauty that the Prince possessed.

Her gaze trailed down towards his firm lips. They were stern and unsmiling, but they looked so full, so kissable.

    "Lady de Fontaine?" the Prince's voice rang, jolting her awake from her trance. "Stand up now, we're going back to the palace."

Catarina blushed furiously as she scrambled to her feet, still unable to comprehend why her heart was beating so erratically. Her cheeks felt oddly warm, so she must be sick, right?

    "Here, take this," he said, holding the umbrella handle for her to take.

    "No, there's no need for that," Catarina replied, though a bit too enthusiastically. "I'm already soaking wet, so there's no point in using an umbrella."

Julian frowned. "If you stay in the rain any longer, you will freeze to death. We don't want that to happen, do we?"

As he said those words, he noticed that Catarina's lips had already started to turn into a horrific shade of blue. Despite that, she was still hesitant to take the umbrella.

This girl is truly too stubborn for her own good, he thought.

    "Fine," he declared. "If you don't want to take it, I will hold it out for you."

He outstretched his arm, and the rain falling on top of Catarina's head abruptly stopped. Droplets of water splattered down on Julian, soaking into his black coat.

    "We can share the umbrella," Catarina proposed as she slightly pushed the handle towards Julian. "See? Now we're both sheltered from the rain."

    "Yes," Julian answered with a shrug. "We should be heading inside now. It isn't safe out here."

As they trudged through the mud, Catarina suddenly realised that this was her opportunity to find out more about the death of Eufemia Dubois.

Not only had a royal consort been poisoned to death, the crime actually occurred inside the palace, mere feet away from where she and the rest of the ladies were having evening tea.

    "Your Highness," Catarina eventually said. "Who do you think poisoned Eufemia Dubois?"

Upon hearing that name, Julian turned to glance at her with intrigue. "Why do you ask? Do you have any idea of who might have done it?"

    "I do not, which is why I'm asking you," Catarina retorted.

    "As of now, we don't have any leads of who might have done it. And frankly, I don't think anyone has a reason to harm her. My uncle John is far from an eligible bachelor, and her family is extremely obscure. There aren't that many people who would benefit from her death."

Catarina let out a scoff. It was full of disgust and disdain, a sharp contrast to her usual upbeat and cheerful nature. "It could be an act of revenge," she suggested.

    "Revenge?" Julian repeated. "But why?"

    "She isn't a good person," she murmured. "While there are few that benefit from her death, many will be pleased."

Julian wanted to ask further, to dig deeper into the rabbit hole, but he found himself unable to say a single thing. Catarina was trembling with rage, or was it fear? Julian could hardly tell.

He decided to deviate from the original topic. "Earlier, you really shouldn't have brought out your purse and revealed how much money you carried. What if you had bumped into a robber instead?"

    "I wasn't thinking straight back then," Catarina murmured in reply. "I thought that I was lost. You see, I tend to get lost a lot. This is my second time, actually."

    "You better take care, then," the Prince told her. "You might not be lucky enough to bump into me the next time."

    "Who knows, maybe on a rainy evening such as today, I will bump into you again," Catarina said with a smile. "I am a very lucky person, you see."

Julian almost let out a chuckle. "Evidently no, since this is your second time getting lost."

At that moment, the rain grew even heavier, and Catarina instinctively shied away, bumping into Julian in the process.

    "We should hurry," Catarina stammered through her clattered teeth. "It's very cold out here."

Without saying a word, Julian unbuttoned his coat and handed it to Catarina, leaving him in nothing but his white undershirt.

    "I can't take this," she said, though it was quite evident that she was lying through her teeth. The coat was incredibly soft and warm from Julian's body heat, and Catarina wanted nothing more than to slip it on.

    "I'm not giving it to you," he retorted. "I'm lending it to you. Wash it clean and return it to me when you have the time."

Julian seemed to have misinterpreted her question, but Catarina was not about to question her luck any further. As soon as she slipped on the coat, she felt instant warmth, as if she were being tightly embraced.

    "Thank you, Your Highness."

As they continued on their muddy journey, Catarina could not help but notice a dull glint just below her line of sight. She lowered her gaze, and there, on the Prince's black leather boots were gold buckles.

Although she had long suspected that Julian was the man from the maze, this only further confirmed it.

    "Why are you staring at my boots?" the Prince suddenly said.

    "Oh, I was just admiring the design. The design must be top-notch to accommodate your royal feet, isn't that right, Your Highness?"

It was only after she had spoken it did she realise how odd that sentence sounded, and judging by the Prince's expression, he must have shared the same opinion.

    "You are a very peculiar lady, did you know that?" he said with a grin. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to put Catarina at ease.

That was when she came to the decision to finally ask him, to make him admit that he was the man from the maze. She wanted to know how he eventually found her, and why he did not want her to know. There were so many questions, and now was her opportunity to get an answer.

However, just as she opened her mouth to speak, the entrance to the palace came into view.

    "You should go inside," the Prince said. "I am needed elsewhere."

It is now or never.

    "Your Highness!" Catarina called out, catching his attention right before he left.

    "Yes, Lady de Fontaine?"

However, when she came face to face with the Prince, the words died in her throat, and she found herself tongue-tied.

    "The coat," she quickly spat out. "When should I return it to you?"

Julian paused for a moment before eventually saying, "Whenever you see fit."

And with that, he was gone.

    Today, the golden curtains of the ceremonial hall were switched with solemn white drapes. White lilies and chrysanthemums decorated every nook of the room, though they were likely put in place to mask the strong smell of embalming fluids.

There, in the centre of the hall were two caskets, one larger and one smaller. The larger casket was opened, revealing the corpse of the late Princess Consort Eufemia Dubois, while the smaller casket was closed shut.

        Such a scene was not unfamiliar to Catarina. Sixteen years ago, her own mother had died under similar circumstances, and although she had no recollection of it, being a two-year-old toddler herself, her aunt, Clarice de Fontaine, the Duchess of Esterdel, had recounted to her about what the funeral was like.

There were two caskets, one containing the corpse of her mother, and the other containing her unborn brother.

    "Your father was completely heartbroken, Nina dear. I remember seeing him kneeling by your mother's casket, begging for forgiveness. That was when I knew for sure that there would never be any other woman for him," the Duchess had said.

However, there was no Prince John by Eufemia's casket. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. Catarina knew the sort of man that Prince John was, and unfortunately, it was very likely that he was off to pursue another woman.

        There were few people in the memorial hall. Besides herself, there was only Eleanora and Jessamine, all quietly staring that the embalmed corpse of Eufemia Dubois.

The corpse itself was perfectly preserved, and it showed no signs of decomposition despite Eufemia being dead for almost two weeks now. Her pale face had been carefully powdered and smeared with rouge, giving her the appearance of someone in deep sleep.

    "She is a very pitiful woman," she heard Jessamine say softly. "Look at her, laying there all alone, with no one mourning her. Such a sad existence."

    "That is true," Catarina murmured in reply. "But she had brought it upon herself. Her actions in life are what caused people to resent her. Her death does not turn her into a saint."

As she bitterly said those words, she subconsciously touched the burn mark on the back of her neck. That was just one of the many gifts she had received from the Marguerite and Eufemia duo.

    "But to die in such a way," she added calmly as she gently laid a single white carnation on top of the casket, "I could not help but pity her."

Catarina turned to glance at Eleanora, who was still staring at the corpse in shock and horror.
      Eleanora was seemingly deeply affected by Eufemia's death, which Catarina found odd. After all, Eleanora never even spoke to Eufemia during her lifetime, let alone personally know her.

In the end, Catarina chalked it up to mere sympathy, as Eleanora was indeed known to be softhearted.

    "Nora," she called out softly. "Jessamine and I are heading back now. Would you like to come with us?"

Eleanora shook her head. "I'd like to stay here for a while, Catarina."

        Jessamine too was confused by Eleanora's sudden grief, but she did not question it. In the end, they both walked away, leaving Eleanora alone in that cold and lonely hall.