Chapter 29
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***
Christine stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Cecilia's dress fit like a glove. The maids who were dressing her up left first because the banquet hall was short of staff, and Christine, who was left alone, took a deep breath and looked around the dressing room.
The dresses she'd been fitted for and hung in the closet were by Amarine, a brand she'd never dared to buy. It felt so soft against her skin she couldn't find the words to describe it.
In a room larger than a shabby boarding house, luxurious dresses waited patiently for their owners' touch. Jewelry and trinkets glittered in glass showcases. Bags of glossy calfskin gleamed.
‘It’s a gift.’
Cecilia Deimos was someone who had so much to give away so easily.
The sound of applause came from downstairs. The charity auction had begun. Lost in thought, Christine lost track of time, checking her dress for wrinkles and pulling her black lace gloves taut over her elbows.
She had hoped the Crown Prince would not come, but the world had not been very kind to her.
If she couldn't avoid it, she might as well be shameless.
Christine schooled her expression.
Squaring her shoulders and straightening her back, she turned the doorknob. The host's voice came up the stairs, rushing down the long hallway like the wind.
Christine quickened her steps, lifting the hem of her dress slightly as it curled around her shoes.
She had just made it down to the first floor and turned down the east hallway when she heard the strange sound.
She stopped and stared into the darkness of the west hallway.
***
It was just a hallucination.
Arthur slid a slightly trembling hand inside his top.
"......!"
Fumbling in his empty pockets, he remembered that he'd changed out of his tailcoat top in the carriage, the sleeves stained with blood.
The tranquilizers must be in the clothes he'd left off. Arthur slumped down on the bench. He buried himself in the hard back and tilted his head back. The glass ceiling looked up at the snowy night sky.
On snowy nights like this, his senses were strangely warped, the landscape mysteriously blurred. His unfocused pupils were pointed toward the snowy expanse, but his mind wandered into distant memories.
Then, he heard footsteps again. Damn it. Slowly lifting his eyelids, Arthur managed to turn his head. A tiny figure shuffled through the tall houseplants.
Ehiri------
A harsh sigh escaped his lips. The bloodied figure always visited him when night fell. For a moment, his mind went white. His throat tightened, no air coming in. His breathing began to quicken. Arthur released the bow tie.
With trembling hands, he unbuttoned the choking collar, closed his eyes, and took a slow, deep breath. It's a fucking hallucination. Arthur covered his ears.
“Your Highness?"
The sound of an alien voice, so out of place in his worst nightmare, snapped him out of his barely held grip on sanity.
The sound of thin heels echoing clearly in the darkness, each one distinctly different from the last, their movement sending waves of red rushing over him.
"------Are you okay?"
The figure gradually drew closer in the whitish light reflected by the pristine white marble columns. The familiar voice slowly gradually became clearer. And then, right in front of him, a pair of piercing green eyes peering down at him.
It didn't take long for him to recognize the figure as Christine Peildon. The woman slowly bent down towards him.
"Your Highness?"
Why this woman?
"------I------."
With an unsteady voice, beads of sweat formed on Arthur's forehead and the bridge of his nose dropped to the floor. The air felt thinner and thinner. His large body stiffened and he gasped in the darkness. Christine gasped as she took the Crown Prince's hand, the chill of his body heat radiating through the thin ballroom glove.
"Breathe…. Your Highness, breathe slowly."
Christine locked eyes with the Crown Prince and repeated the slow inhale and exhale. As if she were teaching a newborn child how to breathe. Slowly, without haste.
"You did well, Your Highness. It's okay now."
His breathing slowly returned, but the intermittent spasms didn't stop. Christine dared to bring her hand to the pale Crown Prince's cheek. His body temperature was too low. Christine sat down next to him. Her hand remained clasped with his.
"I used to have scary dreams when I was little, and I'd wake up in the middle of the night crying. I couldn't breathe, and then my mother would sing me a lullaby, and I'd fall asleep like nothing happened."
Arthur turned slowly to the woman.
“Would you like to hear it?"
In the silence, the woman closed her eyes for a moment and breathed softly. Her breath touched Arthur's cheek like a warm spring breeze through an open garden. His heartbeat began to slow from its frightening pace.
🎶 Beautiful roses wrapped around you, countless petals blooming in fragrant dreams.
Her clear voice cut through the silence. For a moment, time seemed to stop.
Mysterious and tantalizing. Between the real and the unreal.
He had heard the song before, somewhere, sometime, somewhere.
When was it............
🎶You are a gift from God
🎶Good night my love
As Arthur sifted through the memories, his head felt like it was engulfed in a thick fog.
🎶Sleep well, my love, until the morning knocks on your window.
He couldn't understand the words.
Why was it that her voice evoked such inscrutable feelings, as if they were connected long ago......
🎶A sweet dream in paradise
Her chest rose and fell in rhythm with her breathing, then stopped. The song that Arthur had hoped would last forever had ended.
It coincided with a gentle stroke on the back of his hand.
"..................Are you all right now, Your Highness?"
She hadn't let go of his hand yet.
Pale moonlight peeked through the fast-moving clouds.
His deep, serene gaze slowly turned to the clasped hands. Her eyes, transparent green in the moonlight, held his.
Unusually long, dense lashes cast shadows at the corners of her eyes, and he blinked, then jerked his hand away in panic as he met the piercing gaze.
Arthur's arm reached out instinctively and caught Christine's wrist.
"You................"
Their breaths were so close they could touch.
"Who are you?"
***
The charity auction, featuring a special luncheon with the year's honorees, kicked off under the glittering chandeliers.
Before the event, the host announced that all proceeds from the night would be donated to the construction of a new pediatric ward at Grita City Hospital.
“I have been very rude to Miss Peildon, so what should I do?”
Rosalyn, smooth-skinned and plump, worried as she rolled the tip of her fan. This was what she meant by restraint. Preferring red wine to champagne, she faltered at the sight of the rare wines only available at Deimos' dinners.
"It's a good thing Miss Deimos's dress fits her, but please, Miss Rosaline, show some restraint."
"I didn't drink enough to get drunk..................."
Rosaline blushed at the sound of the slap.
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Miss Rosaline, you've certainly made yourself the center of attention at tonight's Christmas Night Ball, especially to His Highness the Crown Prince. Didn't you see that look in His Highness's eyes earlier?"
The ladies giggled softly behind their fans.
"Truly, Miss Deimos is too gracious to lend such a beautiful dress."
Just as the praise, like the snow outside the window that never stopped falling, grew tedious, world-renowned pianist Claude Lancefield came to the auction block. His arrival, dressed in a white tailcoat and with his silky light-brown hair flowing, caused a stir in the room.
From the outset, a fierce competition among the ladies was expected.
Cecilia turned her attention to the narrow glass windows. The wind had picked up.
She wondered if she would ever get a good look at Christine Peildon.
Arthur had been sensitive to the color red since childhood.
As he grew older, it seemed to disappear, but did it?
The blood of his brother flowing from the stumps of an ancient tree left puddles in the snow. No wonder he was so traumatized.
Only a monster would be unmoved by such a horrific sight.
While Cecilia was lost in her thoughts, the turn for the captain of the rowing team at Carls River Royal College was also over.
There was only one more to go.
"The new prima donna of the Gounod Opera Theater, Miss Christine Peildon."
***
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