Page 19 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens

The dress reminded me of autumn... and blood. Hating that Francis had brought it for me, I sat on the bed contemplating my options.

I didn’t need anything from him. He and his constant smirk disgusted me to my core. Although, I didn’t seem to have much of a choice: it was either his dress or my old nightgown.

My hands stretched out toward the nightgown, brushing over the familiar fabric. Dried blood painted the gown dark—almost black—red. Small cuts covered every inch of the material rendering the gown unwearable. Francis’ dress it was.

The dress sat perfectly on my skin as if it had been made by my measurements. I refused to think how Francis had known my size.

Putting my hair in a simple braid, I tied it around itself in a low bun. The action immediately calmed my breathing. Even being alone in a room with my hair down was unbearable.

A loud knock made me jolt in place. “Are you trying to flood the castle there, Princess?” The smirk in Francis’ voice was unmistakable.

Rolling my eyes, I slowly made my way back to the mirror: just a quick glance. The dress was even more gorgeous than before, embracing my light skin and dark features.

Staring at my smooth skin, my eyes widened. The small scar on my cheek had disappeared. It had been there ever since I was little, it became a part of me. If that scar had disappeared perhaps—

My trembling hands moved the fabric from my chest as disappointment washed over me. No. The scar Timothy had left me was still in its place. The memory of the knife flashed through my mind, making me shudder.

The knock on the door distracted me from my disarray. “Princess! My patience is running out. If you don’t come out in aminute I will be forced to—” I didn’t let him finish the sentence as I swung the door open. “You look—” Francis trailed off.

“Let’s be on our way.” I cut him off, annoyed. Annoyed at him, at myself, at this stupid ball. Annoyance and anger were my new companions.

“Of course,” Francis said without the arrogance I’d grown accustomed to.

I started towards the music, not wishing to look at him for a second longer. I was not eager to attend the ball, although there was a small part of me that was curious to see what all the fuss was about. Or maybe it was the isolation I’d lived in the last couple of months. Either way, I was never going to admit I wanted company, even to myself.

We made our way through the labyrinth of endless hallways until I could finally recognize the music that was being played. It was a waltz. One of my favorites, actually.

I remembered learning it on my violin a few years back. I remembered my tutor, Master Waldrey, telling me to feel it rather than play the notes. The memory faded as though it had been in another life. Perhaps, it had been.

I quit thinking about it, afraid I would break down in tears.I will not cry today!Especially not in front of Francis.

Putting on the mask of indifference that I'd mastered in my years of being a future queen, I prepared for the worst.

Francis opened the door to the ballroom.

Chapter 7

“Moonshine, sweetheart.”

For a few moments, all I could do was gawp at the view of this gigantic room. I could hardly call it a room, it must have been at least five times bigger than the ballroom at home.

I hope you won’t be too disappointed, since our balls could never hold a standard of a royal event.Francis’ words flashed in my mind. Arrogant man. Of course, thisgathering—as he’d called it—was more luxurious than any I’d ever attended before. I should not have been surprised, but I was all the same.

The room—more like a hall—was truly glorious. Stained glass decorated every window, depriving the sun of the ability to intrude the space, wherever I looked. Every single one was different: from beautiful landscapes to mythical creatures. On the sides of each window sat many different sculptures, some of them made me feel uneasy.