A court of wicked lies

Chapter 1

Seventeen years later

It was the time of year when the sunrise still had frost on it but it also brought with it the hope of spring. The winter was slowly fading into tomorrow and the flowers were starting to bloom within the little courtyard that stood just below their windows.  It filled Margarita Bathory with joy and excitement. She always loved the new year, it was a sign of new beings and hope. Change.

"As much as I love winter, I have been dreaming of spring," Margarita said. "Though, I'm surprised you can see it during these times. . . and this place."

She turned her dark eyes towards her two  older sisters. At Clythia, who was twenty-five minutes older than her. At Amarantha, who was a full half an hour older then Margarita.
Clythia, the middle triplet, did not look up from her book or even notice that her younger sister had said anything.  Amarantha was sowing up one of their dresses, it had been too long since their father had sent them any money to buy new ones. So they had to make due with what they had. Which meant, Amarantha had to do lots and lots of sowing. She looked at her finger as she had cut it. Blood ran onto the yellow gown she was trying to fix.

"Me, too." Amarantha said slowly as she cleaned up the blood with a napkin. "Tournaments. Bonfires. CrowingDay. . . perhaps our Lord Father would be nice enough to send us a new dress. . . or the King."

Margarita heard the smirk on her sister's voice. She rolled her hazel eyes at Amarantha's words.

"Court has become boring without all the gossip. All the gossip has been the same." Clythia whispered before her hazel eyes went back to the leather book. "Though, thanks to you darling Rita, we have not been left alone to rot."

Clythia's tone implied that her younger sister should be more excited than the average court girl, but Margarita still had her reservations. Margarita could not allow herself to feel happy about something she did not pick.

"I suppose." Margarita said.

Amarantha looked up from the dress, it was one of Margaritas. It was gold in colour.  Made up with jewelry that would buy them a house. But they could not sell them. The dress had been a gift from the king and it would be treason for them to sell it. That was the only true difference between the girls, the colour of their dresses. Amarantha always wore lilac, while Clythia was always in blue. Once, Margarita's gowns had been as red as her hair though now they were gold. Always gold. Also something she did not pick.

"Margarita," Amarantha warned. "You will undoubtedly be His Majesty's partner and escort for the spring festivities. I don't know how you can be so calm."

"Where is Mab?" Margarita asked.

"Margarita! This is not a game." Amarantha yelled. "Your courtship is not a game. You could well be the next queen."

"Thank the stars we have the king's attention," Clythia whispered. "Or it would be dull as a tomb here. Much like. . .the house was for all these years. At least we can glow here. Like a star." She laughed.

"It is a game though," Margarita said, patting her sister, Clythia's, arm to let her know that she had been heard. "The king will move on, he always does. We must enjoy it when we can. By summer this could all be over and that would be fine by me. . . This so-called 'courtship' is just something I can tell my grandchildren about one day."

Amarantha gave her sister a long look. She then slowly put down her dress. But it was Clythia who said, "You would be a good grandmother, Rere. Is something wrong, Ammie? Your going to make new holes in that dress instead of fixing them."

"Not a thing. I'm just thinking about what a wonderful queen our sister would make. The war has already been going on for nearly a year, so a royal wedding might bring joyment to the court." Amarantha said, forcing a smile. "And to the people. They have been fighting long and hard. Perhaps it's time for some fun, something for them to look forward to."