ONE SUMMER DAY, all the nobles of the kingdom were summoned to court for a grand occasion, and that included my own family, the Winterbournes. My mother had arranged for Lisbeth and I to be clothed in the finest fashion, with gowns of silk brocade and tall hennins with white veils that flowed down our backs.

     Perhaps to the king, it was a simple feast with his subjects in attendance, but in the eyes of my parents, the Earl and Countess, every single public appearance was tied to our family's honour. Every article of clothing that we wore would be under scrutiny, and every word we spoke could be interpreted in a hundred ways. This, I soon realised, was the world of court politics.

When it came time to greet the Queen, I noticed that she was cradling a small bundle in her arms, and she held it so close to her chest as if her entire life depended on it.

It was a tiny baby, swaddled in cloth woven with gold, and I could see tufts of blonde hair peeking through the cloth. That little boy is the king's long-awaited heir, and my mother is disappointed that the queen had not popped out yet another girl.

My Lady Mother's greatest pleasure was the misfortune of others, and the fact that the Queen had finally gotten a son greatly displeased her. If the Queen were to fall from her high pedestal, then my mother would be the happiest woman in the entire world.

    I sometimes wondered if my mother is the incarnation of Eris, the Greek goddess of discord.

Once the pleasantries were all done and dealt with, we were seated at a long table that stretched from one end of the room to the other. In front of me was a spread of dishes and delicacies from all four corners of the kingdom, such as horse meat from the north, berries and apples from the east, beef and mutton from the west, and honey and spices from the south, where I was from.

Before we dined, however, the king stood up from his seat, his hand holding onto a goblet of wine.

    "Good people of Phoenicia, this is truly the most joyous day of my reign. After fifteen years, I have finally been blessed with a son. An heir. The future king of this blessed kingdom! I raise a toast to the longevity of Prince George!"           
He raised the goblet of wine in the air, and the rest of the nobility followed suit, echoing, "For Prince George!"

I stared at the goblet of watered-down grape wine in my hand, and reluctantly I chugged it down.

     "However, that is not the only happy news that I would like to announce. It has come to my attention that the Marquis of Lansbury's daughter, Lady Grace Ainsworth, has grown to fancy the son of the Earl of Aldridge, Lord Benedict Moreau! As a gift for my dear sister-in-law, I shall issue a decree for marriage between these two."

I found the usage of 'happy' rather misleading. Other than Lady Grace Ainsworth herself, I saw nobody who was pleased by this news. My mother's face had darkened instantly, and her eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown. I then turned around to look at my cousin Benedict, who was staring agape at the King, his face pale white.

The Earl of Aldridge was my uncle, my mother's elder brother, and Lady Mother had ensured that we had a very good relationship with the Moreau family.

      Benedict is not exactly my favourite cousin -- I felt that he was too rough and boisterous to become friends with, but his sister Corinne, whom I was rather close with, always assured me that Benny had a good heart underneath all that tough exterior.

Despite her constant reassurance, I was not fooled. If someone is truly a good person, then why would there be a need to assert that fact to everyone? People will be able to tell themselves.

Lady Grace Ainsworth, who was sitting by Queen's side, was blushing furiously, her round cheeks as red as a rose in full bloom. She was a great and renowned beauty, just like her sister, the Queen.

    Corinne glared at Lady Grace with visible discontent, and she whispered into my ear, "Oh Annie, she's no sister-in-law of mine. She does not deserve the Moreau name."

At the same time, I noticed my uncle glancing at my mother, his eyes full of malice and dissatisfaction, and my mother gave him a nod in return. From that seemingly short and simple exchange, I became aware that they would do anything in their power to stop the wedding, even if it meant shedding blood.

The current queen of Phoenicia, Queen Helene hailed from the House of Ainsworth, and when she rose up, she brought her entire clan with her. As a result, the previously obscure family had become a massively influential powerhouse. However, House Moreau held half of the kingdom's military, while we, the Winterbournes are the ones who keep the King's coffers full.

   Neither House of Moreau and House of Winterbourne were too pleased about House of Ainsworth's rise to power, and now, they had forced the king to decree a marriage between Lady Grace, a daughter of the House of Ainsworth, and my cousin Benedict, the heir to House of Moreau.

     "Well Annie, since they're already targeting Benny, I suggest you watch over Gilbert," Corinne whispered, gesturing to my twin brother. "Or you might become in-laws with the ugly princess."

I then glanced at Princess Cecily,  who was only eleven years old, but was already staring at my brother Gilbert with stupid puppy eyes. If Lady Grace, the daughter of a Marquis, could force the king to decree a marriage for her, then surely Princess Cecily could marry whoever she wished.

A surge of anger suddenly filled my chest. Perhaps, is this the start of my family's decline? To be controlled and subdued by our greatest enemies? Do they feel like we are an easy target for them to rob and drain of all wealth?

    As if sensing my sharp glare, Princess Cecily turned to face me. Upon noticing my hostile gaze, her ugly face contorted even more, and her shoulders shook dramatically while tears rolled down her pale cheeks. What a little crybaby.

       I gritted my teeth in disdain and rolled my eyes while a sob escaped the Princess's lips. The young man next to her, the King's nephew, looked at her with concern, and his dark gaze eventually landed on me.

Like a coward, I immediately looked away and pretended to be talking to Corinne, who was murdering the already dead roast partridge on her plate.

      I then snatched a cream-filled scone on the communal dish, but the taste of it was not to my liking, so as I always did, I put it in Gilbert's plate. My brother looked at me with a displeased frown, but he finished up the scone nonetheless. Gilbert was never wasteful. Although we were twins, we were polar opposites. He was prudent and thrifty, and he was truly honest and never kept any secrets from our parents. He seemed to be satisfied with our father's position as the Earl of Rhyland, which he would inherit after our father's passing, and did not seem to desire for anything more.
 
      I, on the other hand, was power-hungry and dreamt of having an entire kingdom at my disposal. My mother would dismiss my dreams as mere fantasies and told me to focus on being a good wife to my future husband. In her eyes, there is nothing more dangerous than a woman with ambitions.

Father, however, would entertain me and assure me that with House Winterbourne's power, he can surely get me to sit on the throne.

    As I ate, I could feel that someone was staring at me, though I could tell whether it was with good or bad intentions. Thinking that it was Princess Cecily, I turned around to look. However, I saw that Princess Cecily had stopped crying and was no longer looking at me nor Gilbert, but the man next to her was.

The King's nephew, Edmund, was without a mother nor a father, and the king's family became his, albeit he was more like a pet dog rather than a son. At the age of five, he was sent off to the cold north, and I had little recollection of him. He seldom returned to the capital, perhaps only once in every two or three years.

       The Duke of Cindertrappe had downturned pale green eyes that captivated anyone who dared to look, but I could not decipher the emotions lurking in those depths. His black hair was long and crept down to his chin, curly and unkempt, yet it did not alter his noble air, and he looked as princely as anyone could be. His looks, however, were dark and beautiful, the kind that you could not take your eyes off of.

      When seated next to the ethereal, golden haired royal family, he was like a black sheep - no, he was like the devil.

∆

     That afternoon, a ball was held at the palace hall, to celebrate the betrothal between Benedict and Grace Ainsworth. That cousin of mine is almost eighteen now, four years older than me. I wonder if I would also be betrothed at eighteen.

Lady Grace Ainsworth, the sister of the Queen, skillfully maintained her bashful act when Benedict went to offer her his hand, making it seem as if he were the one who wished to make her his bride, not the other way around.

She briefly ran her fingers through her straight blonde hair which flowed down her back like a halo, swayed her derrière, and smiled coquettishly, but my cousin Benedict showed no interest whatsoever, and acted as if it were a mere duty.

    "Let me tell you, Annie, that woman can never marry my brother. My father will do anything to prevent that," Corinne hissed, her knuckles growing white from strangling the sheer shawl in her hands.

      "She's an Ainsworth, Corinne. The King will force your brother to marry her, if necessary," I said nonchalantly. Corrine shook her head wildly and leaned in on me.

      "What King?" she scoffed, her words dripping with malice. "He is no King. He is a mere servant to the witch that he married."

Corinne grabbed my shoulders and forcefully turned me around, making me look at Queen Helene, sitting gracefully on the throne, while her little golden boy obediently played on her lap, adorably sucking on his plump thumb.

      "That woman is the real ruler of our kingdom. She is the one who hides behind the shadows, while the King bears the brunt of trying to reverse the effects of the misdeeds she had committed."

I pushed Corinne away, saying "I shall not entertain your antics any further, Corinne. You may talk to me again once your head is free from all those slanders."

      "They are not slanders, Annie," Corinne hissed. "My father had said it himself."

I shook my head and walked away. The Earl of Aldridge and my mother are brother and sister. The same blood runs in their veins, so how different could their mindsets be?

       I ventured into the palace gardens to get away from Corinne and her nonsensical ramblings. There was a white marble bench on the side of the path, and since it was a summer afternoon, the bench had absorbed an ungodly amount of heat, turning into a literal frying pan. As soon as I sat down, I flinched from the shocking heat and stood back up. If I had cracked a duck egg onto the surface of the bench, I was certain that it would be fully cooked in a heartbeat.

      That was when I saw a large oak tree, with its branches spread out so wide that it formed a large canopy to shelter from the sun.

    I leaned against the trunk of the oak tree, enjoying the afternoon breeze that kissed my skin gently, and my surroundings were blissfully silent except for the chirping birds and the sound of the river nearby.

       "Lady Winterbourne," a deep voice called out from behind me.

My eyes flew wide open, and I immediately became vividly aware of my surroundings. Who was that? A robber? An assassin? An enemy of my father?

       "Who's there?" I shouted while quickly retrieving a small dagger that I had tucked neatly inside my stockings.
I hear the rustling of leaves behind me, and my heartbeat quickened.

Whoever it was, they were closing up on me. Luckily, I managed to pull out the dagger, and frantically, I turned around, dagger in hand.

       There was a squelching sound as the blade pierced through his flesh, and all I saw was red, endlessly pouring out. I gasped in shock, wondering if he would slash my throat with the very same dagger in retaliation, but then I saw the face of the person whose arm I just stabbed.

It was the King's nephew, the Duke of Cindertrappe. Edmund nonchalantly pulled out my dagger and tossed it onto the ground as if it were a tiny, worthless rusty fork. More blood had poured out from the wound, but it was barely noticeable due to the dark clothes he donned.

    The Duke showed no pain nor anger, and his eyes were still staring at me - just like before. I could not read his expression, and it frustrated me.

       "Do you usually carry a dagger to stab people here and there, Lady Winterbourne?" he chuckled. I pursed my lips with disdain and knelt down to pick up the dagger.

      "I see that you are fond of wandering in the woods, whispering like a ghost. I suggest that you take good care, because if you don't, you might actually end up as a ghost these days," I countered resentfully while wiping the dagger clean, and the stupid smile on his face grew even wider. "You are lucky that my dagger is not laced with poison. Although, I am contemplating doing so."

     "Very well. If a dead body shows up, then we will know who to suspect," he then said, acting oblivious to the fact that blood was steadily dripping down his arm.

I rolled my eyes. Sighing, I knelt down, picking up my damask skirt, and using the dagger, I tore apart a piece large enough to staunch the bleeding. Such a shame, since I quite liked this gown.

I hand him the piece of damask. "Wrap this around your arm and go find a physician. I'm certain that they will be more than willing to treat the King's precious nephew," I said nonchalantly, now ready to walk away.

     "Precious?" Edmund laughed, his voice filled with ridicule and discontent. "That might be the case half a year ago, but now I am a mere obstacle for his son to get on the throne."

      "Don't jest with me," I scoffed. "They say that you are as loyal as a dog, the one who stays with the King through thick or thin."

The Duke chuckled sardonically as he wrapped the cloth around his arm and said, "Even a dog, once starved and deprived of its rights, can bite the hands that feed."

I was a mere child of fourteen on that fateful summer afternoon, and I barely understood what he was trying to convey. But as I grew older, I knew exactly what he meant by that.

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