Chapter 2The Whole Damn Family is Villainous

The news that I, Cassia Valerius, and Lady Trista were to be married to the Prince on the same day spread through Aethelgard like wildfire, fanning the flames of gossip. Not that any of the noble ladies ever wanted to associate with me; they all flocked around Trista like moths to a flame. She had the reputation, the grace. She could recite some mournful poem and earn a roomful of applause.

As for me? My parents always said, "Why bother with lutes and watercolors? Those are skills for entertainers. Our daughter has no need for them." So, just like my brother, I was branded one of the capital's "gilded fools."

On the way home, the whispers were impossible to ignore.

"Look, there's Cassia Valerius, dripping with gold again. Does she intend to wear the entire treasury on her person? So vulgar."

"What does she know of elegance? She's just a spoiled brat with a rich father. Look at her, trailing a half-dozen servants. You'd think she was a queen."

"Even the Queen isn't that ostentatious. A shame, really. With that character, she might become a princess, but she'll never be a queen."

"The Prince prefers women of substance. He would never fall for an empty-headed doll like her."

Every time I stepped outside, it was the same story. I knew my reputation was in the gutter, but I refused to be shamed for my fashion. And what of their beloved Trista? The woman was about to marry the Crown Prince and she still wandered around in a plain white linen dress and a simple silver pin. It was pathetic, yet the capital’s elite praised it as the height of sophisticated minimalism.

Leaving the palace, I had muttered loud enough for her to hear, "Dressed in white like that. Is she attending a wedding or a funeral?"

Her retort, delivered in that sickeningly sweet tone of hers, came swiftly. "I love this white gown as I love a pure soul. It is a constant reminder to remain true to oneself, untainted by the gaudy trends of the world."

This was going to be unbearable. The thought of sharing a roof with that master of passive-aggression made me lose my appetite.