Rendezvous in the Romanowskian Empire

49. Bloody hell

Althea

I had freshened up after a bath, but my eyes still looked puffy with the amount I had cried last night.

Misunderstandings were the best kind of scum. 

Though I'd tried to hide it with kohl, Phoebe was quick to notice.

"We are so sorry, Althea," She shifted beside me in the dining, looking remorseful, as I sipped on the morning tea. They were still feeling guilty at their actions that was the reason for my current gloominess.

"My eyes have caught a cold, nothing much," I mumbled over the rim of the cup, gaze wandering to the hazy winter sky.

It was true that I could never keep everyone pleased. But I didn't know I would lose trust of the one person whom I owed everything.

The one who'd made my survival possible. The root cause of my travelogue.

The one who had made me feel things which, deep inside… I'd always wanted to feel.

Danae looked on with curiosity, and whispered something to Caspara, her eyes repeatedly diverting to my direction.

I was seriously sick of these concubines.

Julian said he despised gossiping. Wasn't he aware that his lovely women were doing so, right under his nose?

Julian.

When the men were served breakfast, I refused to go out. I was avoiding him, his very name since morning, but now when it came up, my eyes welled up again. I sniffed them back. 

Why do you forget it, dear me? That you are Coretta Hayes. You cannot remain Althea Rosemary forever… 

I hummed at the thought, fighting back the sobs. It was good for the previous night to wipe out the emotional aspects of my relation with Julian. A relation that should've been strictly professional as I'd stated to the concubines. 

And as pointed out by the department. Be emotionless.

Be as good as a humanoid.

When at last I'd made it up to Armonia, she wasn't here, having already left for Greece early in the morning. Because of her absence, the concubines weren't silent, leaving no chance to nail each other down with their nasty remarks. 

And for no reason, dragging me into their gossips now and then.

I had watched ample historical documentaries at how it was women pinning down women in the race of charming the king/prince. So much that they were having bloody fights of their own.

My eyes skimmed over the chatting women. I could already imagine being murdered by one of them someday. 

A few women who weren't concubines, also sat today. Most of them huddled around Caspara as they watched me with a hatred that could make anyone squirm in their seat.

But I've had enough of hiding behind Phoebe and Zurin or keeping myself to the room. I directed my gaze at one of the orange-haired women and stared into the depths of her eyes, my cup resting in my hands. 

I am not after your king, dear witches. Please leave me the hell alone.

That creeped her out and soon, she was back to mumbling in her neighbour's ear, barely able to look at me.

Out of nowhere, a monstrous laugh sounded from somewhere down the floor, causing two women to get up and peer down. I finished my tea and gave Phoebe a questionable glance. 

When the women turned around, their faces were white as a ghost.

"M- Mistress, Ionna," They uttered, their lips trembling.