Of Blood and Roses

Chapter 1

I looked down at the red wine licking the edges of my crystal glass, the golden cutlery shining brightly under the chandeliers hanging overhead. I tried desperately to ignore the swarming whispers that gathered at my shoulders and giggled at my ear. My temples throbbed, another headache looming. If only they weren't so loud.

The Angels would not leave me alone this evening. Usually hearing voices in one's head meant they were broken in some way, but for me it was a sign of my gift. A blessing. I knew I should be grateful, that I should smile and laugh with them. Be happy for my gift, be reverent of what I was lucky enough to have inherited from my mother and the many Mothers before her.

But right now, all I craved was silence.

Peace.

Because tomorrow I was leaving, off to Garnette to marry a prince. Another thing I should be happy about. Something I was happy about. I just...

"Won't you share at least one glass of wine with me before you go, sister?" Elliotte said, his pale white, manicured and uncalloused fingers floating into view, cutting me off from the Angels and the traitorous thoughts running through my head.

The room around me came into focus along with Elliotte's light hazel eyes and icy blonde hair. Courtiers in powdered wigs and dresses of shining fabric glimmered around us, more blinding than the polished dinnerware.

The giggles of blushing women and the words of charming men hit me with ferocity, my temples throbbing sharply at the onslaught. Colours swarmed, the gentle music gone shrill to my ears as those around us flirted and manipulated one another, all while watching Elliotte and me from the corners of their ever-conniving gazes.

I looked away, my stomach turning. I never much liked events like this, but this was one I couldn't avoid. Elliotte cocked his head, silver brows puckering in concern.

"What were they saying?" he asked. As a male born into our line, he had been doomed to never know the voices of the angels. But there was no trace of jealousy in his gaze.

Just soft, gentle, pity.

I hardened my features as I focuses away from his face, shaking my head. , I took a long swig of wine, then winced as its sweetness brought on another wave of nausea.

"Couldn't hear them clearly." I sighed. "It's unlikely I ever will. Mother can't either. Not so long as our gift is locked away."

Elliotte frowned, leaning back in his seat, relieving me from the conversation. He scanned the room, gaze catching by the door as it had been all evening. Darren stood, perfect as a gilded statue, his golden cape spilling from his shoulders. I wasn't the only one leaving tomorrow.

"I'm sorry," I said before I could stop myself. I bit down on my tongue, cursing myself for even bringing it up.

I just couldn't stand the way his lips puckered, the glint in his eyes dimming. Darren was one of my closest friends, and a man I had long suspected was something even more to my sometimes flighty brother. But Darren was also the captain of my own personal guard, and would be leading me and a small contingent of specially selected men to Garnette where he would stay by my side, protecting me until one of us no longer drew breath.

He had vowed so much a year ago when my mother, the queen, promoted him to the title. He had accepted without hesitation. To Darren, Rosailles had always come first. Much like how my marriage had been penned before I was even born, our fates were bound to always leave the place we grew up in order to serve it.

Elliotte did not reply right away, finishing off his glass of wine. Almost instantly, a servant appeared, wine flagon in hand, refilling his glass. My gaze caught on her. Warm brown skin, a few tightly coiled ringlets escaped hair pulled into a knot to frame dark eyes. They met mine a moment, and lingered a few seconds before she dropped her gaze and withdrew, blending in almost seamlessly with the other servants. I pressed my lips together. She seemed familiar yet I could not place an instance I had seen her before. The Verenice Palace boasted a large contingent of workers, and it was not possible for me to keep track of them, but something about this particular woman struck me as odd.