Book One: The Marigold's Larkspur ~ A tale of mystery, magic, and obsession.

Chapter Nineteen

Cilla knew right away.

The moment her blue eyes landed on Cressida sitting on the edge of her bed, already awake, she knew.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice sharp.

Cressida gazed up at the ceiling. "I'm asking myself the same question." She murmured, feeling the weight of her sleepless night in the pits of her eyes.

"Your Highness, you never wake up on your own."

Cressida let out a soft sigh, feeling the exhaustion seep into her bones. "I suppose I'm just filled with energy today," she mumbled.

Cilla's gaze bore into her, unamused by the flippant response. "Clearly," she retorted dryly.

Cressida closed her eyes, hoping to find a brief escape from the mounting pressure, "I'm tired, Cilla." She complained. "I'd rather not delve into it right now."

"So, there's an 'It'?"

Cressida pressed a hand to her temple, massaging away the stabbing ache that had taken root. "Isn't there always?" she replied wearily.

A subtle shift on the mattress beside her indicated Cilla's presence. "Your Highness, tell me. What happened?" she inquired; her voice gentle yet insistent.

Reluctant to face Cilla's stern disapproval so early in the morning, Cressida shook her head. "I just want to get dressed," she mumbled, her words barely audible. "Can we talk about it later?"

Though her eyes remained closed, Cressida could imagine the thin line forming on Cilla's lips, a telltale sign of her displeasure. "...alright, Your Highness," Cilla replied curtly.

Cressida could sense Cilla's concern, even without looking at her. She knew she couldn't avoid the conversation for long, but she needed some time to gather her thoughts and emotions before facing Cilla's scrutiny.

As she began to dress, Cressida replayed the events of the previous night in her mind. The intense passion she had experienced with Callidus had been undeniable, but now she grappled with the consequences of her impulsive actions.

"Unusual of you to wear jewelry to bed," Cilla remarked, her voice cutting through the air as she skillfully laced Cressida's corset.

Cressida's eyes shot open, instantly drawn to the silver sapphire bracelet still adorning her left wrist. The intimate gift from Callidus. "I couldn't take it off," she confessed uneasily, her fingers instinctively caressing the cool metal. "Physically, I mean. The clasp is stuck. It won't budge."

"How inconvenient," Cilla muttered. "Now we have two things in this room that refuse to budge."

Exasperated, Cressida tried to defend herself. "I'm not hiding anything from you, Cilla. I just don't want to talk about it right now," she pleaded, hoping her friend would understand.

A brief puff of air escaped Cilla's lips - an equally exasperated sigh. "You couldn't hide anything from me even if you tried, Your Highness," she responded, a hint of fondness creeping into her voice. "It always amused me how everyone used to succumb to your blatant flattery." Cilla paused, briefly adopting a slightly higher tone. "Oh, Duke Frander, that cravat is an exquisitely bold choice. The vibrant green perfectly complements your yellow coat. As eye-catching as a frog in a crown."

Cressida's lips curved into a reluctant smile. "You've always been able to see through me. Are you sure you don't have Sense-based magic, Cilla?"

Cilla shook her head, "It's a shame you don't have it, Your Highness,"

"It really is. It would be so helpful right now," Cressida murmured, lost in thought. "If only I sense the future, like the woman in that Merossian myth."