Homeless girl, Rosalie, is found on the cold streets of Crausley Sands with nothing but the clothes on her back and a black obsidian stone key around her neck, having no memory of who gave it to her.
When Rosalie is taken in by none other than Princ...
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In the four days Rosalie had been in the mansion, there were a few rooms she was yet to explore.
One being the library.
After she had fetched the tray of assorted wines and delivered them to the dining room as requested, Rosalie was then asked to assist with hosting duties and as she made her way back to the kitchen, she happened to pass the unstudied library.
Perhaps, I could have a quick look, she thought, mild curiosity getting the better of her.
Glancing behind her, checking no one bore witness to her truancy, Rosalie carefully and quietly turned the doorknob and crept inside, shutting the door just as quietly behind her.
The first thing that caught Rosalie's attention were the high ceilings towering over her like a sky of pyramidal beams. Denying the room was infinite would be like denying the cosmos its source of food from the sun's rays and the cloud's waterfall.
Gigantic shelves dominated the space, filling the walls entirely with a substantial variety of books.
Although, it wasn't the tremendous amount of print that fascinated Rosalie.
It was the portraits hanging in a perfectly vertical line; faces of past Kings and Queens of the Quentin ancestry. The most recent to join the collection was that of King Frideric, Prince Darick's father.
He exuded pride and dominance.
From the top hat with a ribbon of gold silk tied around its bodice sitting atop his head of grey wavy hair cut to his earlobe. To the golden and black cravat tied precisely around the crisp white collar of his shirt, an adequate match to his black waistcoat and the gold-black embroidered jacket. The entirety of the King's stance aggravated the long buried anger Rosalie had kept at bay. She had always told herself being angry could not change the past, could not give back what she had lost. But Rosalie could not stop the ripples of rage from sailing across her heart.
"He was a cantankerous old git."
Rosalie was startled by the hiss of Madam Francine's statement reflecting off the walls around the library. How long had she been in the room with her?
"My apologies, Ma'am," Rosalie quickly said, "I didn't mean to abandon my duties, especially at this crucial time."
Madam Francine waved her hand, dismissing Rosalie's concern. "Nonsense, Darick has plenty of labour to accommodate him and his counterparts."
Why, all of a sudden, was the future Queen addressing her with grace?
Only hours prior she was chastising her and Liliana. Suspicion married her brow.
"Even so, I suspect I will be needed. If you'll excuse me," Rosalie said, hastily making a retreat, but unable to complete her leave.
"You appear to show disdain to Crausley's former King." Francine observed. "As did most of the town, yet ... I suspect yours is more personal."
