Catherine - Past - Before Her Abduction

  “Catherine!” A young woman resembling her, but with much more voluminous hair and wider set eyes, trotted over. “How dare you arrive te to your own party and leave me here with these…people.”

  “Oh, Evalice, forgive me for my transgressions,” Catherine pleaded fmboyantly, holding her wrist to her forehead in faux shame. “How dare anyone speak to you, the audacity.”

  She sniffled, “They were so rude, sister.”

  They shared a ugh and a loose hug.

  “Father is looking for you,” Evalice added quickly, swaying her own gown. “He’s been pacing about for half an hour. In quite a mood I’m sorry to say.”

  “When is he not in a mood?” Catherine sighed.

  “It gets worse…”

  “Gods—Why?”

  “HE is also looking for you.”

  Catherine looked at her sister for a moment in confusion, her dark eyes telling a dreadful story, “No. Nooo, Eva. Not this year, I cannot spend a single moment with that absolute hog’s testicle.”

  Evalice cackled, “I see you’re in a mood as well. Anyway, Lord Stannard is here and he brought his whole loathsome family. Been asking for you all night.”

  “You don’t think he will—

  “Propose to you in front of the entire ga?” Evalice asked knowingly, eyes bulging with sick interest. “If he doesn’t, I’ll set father’s study on fire. And you know how fmmable it is with all that parchment—

  “This cannot be happening.” Catherine interrupted, “have I not been clear that I am uninterested?!”

  “Oh, no, you have been quite the horrid tart. Unfortunately, I think that is his preference…but don’t fret! Being the amazing sister that I am, I will make absolutely certain to distract him properly. For as long as I can, of course.”

  “Father has me performing Thespa’s newest ballet ter tonight, there will be no dodging him.”

  The pair quickly wiped the concern from their faces as one of Dowelshire’s premier, and aged, physicians wobbled into view, tipped his hat, and continued onward. Politeness, where dies were concerned, insisted that they wear no obtrusive emotions upon their fair visage. An archaic line of thought, perhaps, but it did assist in keeping other’s noses firmly out of business that did not involve them.

  “Well,” Evalice whispered, craning her head about to see who might be in earshot, “What should we do then?”

  “I can’t miss the dance, Eva, what else can we do?”

  Evalice scrunched her face up as she often did when lost in deep thought. Though, Catherine knew that her sister’s depth wasn't fit for boats, or even a small canoe.

  “We’ll just have to improvise, father won’t allow you to turn his gesture down as harshly as you need to, for now, stay away from the banquet hall. Stannard won’t travel far from anywhere there’s food and spirits.”

  “Fine,” Catherine rolled her eyes, “I have no appetite anyway. Have you seen father?”

  “I have, but he is rather cross with you, I’d give it some time.”

  “I’m not even that te, besides…I’m asking him tonight.”

  Evalice choked on her own breath. “No.”

  “But I—

  “NO,” she stared her sister down. “You won’t survive it.”

  “I’m asking him, Eva, he said st year to ask when I came of age. Last I checked, I was of age weeks ago and he has said nothing to me. At all.”

  “Take the hint, dear sister, or take the shes,” she said, pcing a hand on Catherine’s arm, looking as wise as she did condescending.

  “Please, when has father ever beaten us?”

  “You know which shes I refer to,” Evalice turned her back and started into the ballroom, “I can help you with the pig, but not with father. I want no part in this. I know nothing.”

  And with that she was gone. Catherine tried to call after her, but the girl was small, and quite nimble when it came to getting out of things. Since they were but children, Evalice always had a fir for the escape act, which made many childhood games difficult to py with her. Eventually, she and the other girls stopped pying them altogether, knowing who would win. Perhaps that was why

  Evalice was so keen on helping her big sister out of such situations, she missed the games, she missed winning. Or, perhaps, she wasn’t the most insufferable of sisters after all.

  A fsh of turquoise in the far corner of the ballroom snapped Catherine out of her musings of one family member, and on to the next. Juno had been spotted. Amongst a group of guests, he beamed a perfect smile and flourished his hands, regaling them with magnificent stories of artistic inspiration and trial. He often liked to tell stories of his humble beginnings and the cruel community that was Mesican art. The only thing that had changed in the delivery of these tales over the years was the size of his belly.

  Shoulders tucked back, head brought high, and a glint of fiery resolve in her eyes, Catherine approached her father gracefully. Two very rge men, dressed in fine bck tunics bordered with shimmering silver scales, hung on either side of a stunning mid-aged woman. She was squat, but full-figured, with a face that both commanded respect and softened the heart.

  Though she had never met her prior, Catherine recognized her as Esmeralda Canarias, Countess of Westrock, one of the wealthiest women in all of Thespa. After losing her husband in her youth to a tragic fire, she was forced to become ruthless in defense of her estate. Everyone knew the stories, the woman with a heart of iron and a generous hand. She was not to be trifled with. Juno had long desired her to be a guest at his ga and Catherine had always hoped he would succeed.

  Juno’s head turned mid-tale and his eyes locked with his eldest daughter. His expression dropped for the briefest of moments before he raised his hand to wave her over. A small knot grew within her stomach as she removed the distance between them in seconds.

  “Duchess,” Juno began, in a booming, proud dispy of showmanship, “this is my eldest daughter, Catherine Holly-Rose Pergrace.”

  Catherine immediately entered a sharp bow at the neck, extending her arms outward in two gentle bends, one at the elbow and another at the wrist, before stepping back into a short curtsy. This was a special symbol, reserved for those who would be judged.

  Lesser noble dies often did so with suitors of greater status, some did so out of respect and hopeful servitude, but Catherine did so for favor. As a member of the hosting family, this was the greatest vulnerability she could communicate to a woman so worldly as the Countess of Westrock.

  “Ah, Catherine,” the Countess took her hand, “I have heard a great deal about you from your doting father…and others.”

  “A waste of good breath, I imagine, my dy,” Catherine lifted her head, having been accepted formally into the conversation. “I am afraid I am quite the bore.”

  Juno chuckled looking terribly pleased.

  “Nonsense,” the Countess excimed, “out of all the young dies in this ballroom, you are the only one with any ambition!”

  “My dy?” Catherine paused, darting her gaze over to her father, who now suddenly looked uncomfortable, as if he had received a gift he hadn’t asked for.

  “A darling ss,” she said with a grin, “looked quite like you, told me you might be interested in attending my academy for bright women.”

  Her heart sank and she dared not move at all.

  How? How could she have known anything about Catherine’s pns to attend an academy?

  Juno certainly hadn’t told the Duchess, Catherine’s dreams would be low on the priority list of his conversation starters, in fact, infected toenails would make for better stories in her father’s eyes. Then she caught it, behind Juno, at the edge of the great portal to the banquet hall was the sly smirk of a meddlesome little dy who loved games. Evalice shrugged and disappeared again. Of course, it had been none other than the wretched cow.

  “Or, am I mistaken?” Esmeralda prodded.

  “Oh, madame-duchess,” Juno began, exasperated, “I’m certain that you heard—

  “No, my dy, you are quite right.” Catherine blurted out, fully aware of the banshee she had set free in her life.