"Words, Black. Words and sentences..."
Adelaide Rose Fawley, member of the sacred 28, The Pureblood Princess, heiress to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Fawley. She grew up amongst the proud, noble, and prejudiced, raised to conform to the belie...
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The grand marble ballroom of Fawley Manor glowed in the warm light cast by the floating candles and glistening chandeliers.
Women in gorgeous gowns fluttered and flowed across the dance floor as men in perfectly tailored dress robes led them in a waltz. Goblets clinked and laughter rose above the lively music.
Everyone looked so happy and untroubled.
So very unlike how Adelaide Fawley felt.
Adelaide wrung her fingers together, trying to keep the smile on her lips as her stomach twisted in discomfort. She hated these sacred 28 parties. The dancing wasn't so bad, but she hated the people, the crowds, the chit chat. She wanted nothing more than to run up to her bedroom to read... preferably in her cozy nightgown with a steaming cup of tea—
"Adelaide, your dress looks soooo pretty..." Cleo Greengrass whined, disappointed.
Adelaide blinked away from the dance floor to her... well friend would have been too strong a word. Cleo was more of an acquaintance, if anything. Their parents had forced them into having tea parties periodically ever since they were in nappies. And though Cleo was the least snobbish of her circle of acquaintances, eleven years had done nothing to deepen the relationship beyond clothes and crumpets.
Cleo might not have shared Adelaides love of reading, but at fashion she was an expert (or as expert as an eleven year old could be on such matters). Adelaide's gown was, admittedly, very pretty.
Floor-length shimmering silk, the same deep green as her eyes—a symbolic expression of the house they would both soon call their own. It was only made more stunning by Adelaide's pale blonde, nearly white hair, falling in loose curls down her back.
"Yours looks pretty too, Cleo," Adelaide said quietly.
Cleo frowned down at her bubblegum pink dress as if she didn't believe her. "Mmm... I think I'm going to go see if there's any eclairs left on the desserts table..."
Adelaide opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Cleo hustled away. Adelaide thought about joining her, but her eye caught instead on something, or rather someone. A boy, specifically, lurking in the corner of the room near a gaudy flower arrangement.
Dark hair fell in his eyes as he reached—
"Adelaide! What are you doing?" a woman hissed cooly, grabbing her by the arm.
Adelaide jumped and let out a small squeak of fright. "I was—I was just—"
Her mother rolled her hazel, hawk-like eyes, lips pursed. "Come, I don't want you running underfoot."
Adelaide followed after her mother dutifully, successfully hiding her dread as they approached a handsome woman with cruel features.
Walburga Black was rather frightening. Maybe it was her unpredictable nature or her flair for the dramatic, but she always made Adelaide feel uneasy.
