Death's whore
Drifting off to sleep bruised and aching, Gwyneth did not expect to wake up feeling normal and with no bruises on her body. Her skin was flawless, untouched by the violence she'd believed she had endured.
She swallowed, unconsciously brushing the side of her neck. Brushing the only bruise on her body.
A mark that stayed to remind her that last night was not a dream, but reality.
"I can't believe this." She let out a heavy breath of frustration, burying her fingers in her ruffled hair.
A lot happened last night. She had run at a speed she never thought possible, her intent fixed on murder, and she felt...
"No. No. No." She covered her face with her hands, chanting in disbelief.
"Heavens no!" She inhaled deeply and lifted her gaze to the covered window, which was reflecting the glow of the sun.
Gwyneth rose from her bed, heading towards the bathing room to prepare for the day. As she slipped into her dress, a faint smile crept onto her lips as she ensured the fabric covered her neck.
Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal Madison, her face flushed with excitement—until she caught sight of Gwyneth in full regalia, standing beside the bed. "Your...Highness?" L
"Your Highness!" She hurried over to Gwyneth.
"Good morning." Gwyneth smiled at Madison before breezing past her, heading for the door.
Madison's eyes followed her princess, her nervous laughter echoing in the room. "The Duchess is in the dining room."
"Oh." Gwyneth gripped the doorknob, her eyes flickering dimly.
Despite the importance of meeting the Duchess, Gwyneth's relationship with her was brittle at best. In truth, she struggled to find common ground with anyone in the household. After all, Duke Gerald...
"Thank you." She pulled open the door, leaving with a vacant expression on her face.
...
"Believe me, conversations with the Lord are always so addictive. He has been in charge of everything since Gerald went missing." Duchess Clarissa, a middle-aged woman with dark hair, smiled broadly and giggled while using the napkin to dab at the side of her lips.
Gwyneth pressed a false smile. "Is that so?"
"I understand that you prefer to avoid political involvement, but the time will come when you must handle all matters." Clarissa continued.
Gwyneth nodded, gazing down at the steak dish in front of her. "Hmmm." She pressed her palm to her stomach, resisting the urge to throw up.
She had expected the Duchess to be gloomy. Sentimental. Depressed. Was she being selfish?
Gwyneth nibbled her bottom lip. Why were things not going her way? A psychotic entity called death was pursuing her, and the people in her current life were failing to show that they were any different from those in her previous life.
"Why don't you spend some time in Calidra? You came to see how things were going for me without Gerald, right?" Abruptly, the Duchess asked, capturing Gwyneth's entire attention.
Gwyneth cleared her throat. Grinning modestly, she reached for the napkin neatly placed next to her. "I am here to conduct an investigation."
Shock spread across Clarissa's eyes. It was certainly unexpected that the Princess would show up for an investigation, especially given that the King himself had opposed any investigation into Gerald's disappearance. "I..I.. Investigation?"
"Yes." Gwyneth nodded. "The guards informed me last night that you were being occupied by a few detectives."
Clarissa's stunned expression faded. She lowered her head and forced a smile onto her face. "It would be best if we continued eating breakfast silently."
Gwyneth's eyes darkened at those words. Nevertheless, she was able to maintain her composure. "Well, of course."
She grasped the knife and fork carefully, slicing a piece of steak with a touch of elegance. Not missing a beat to look at the now silent Duchess.
Something was amiss.
Her lips curled up.
Sirius. He knew about her uncle, but he served no purpose for her.
'However, searching for your uncle is akin to suicide.'
His rich, velvety voice echoed in her head.
"As you can see, Louis and Danielle are absent from the manor." Clarissa suddenly spoke. This time, both her expression and voice were solemn.
Gwyneth looked up at her with a blank expression. Startling the Duchess a little.
"Louis departed for the capital yesterday, while Danielle has been occupied with charitable events." And she continued.
"Louis traveled to the capital?" Gwyneth arched her brow. "To see Brother?"
"It is strange that you two did not cross paths." Clarissa let out an uneasy laugh.
Gwyneth made no comment. Her relations with her cousins were never particularly cordial. They always saw her as a competitor because Gerald favored her the most.
She gripped her glass of wine, staring at it with disinterest. "It is no surprise you did not mention Davian and Kai."
Clarissa stood up with a deep frown on her face. "Did you come here to remind me of my suffering?"
Gwyneth brought the glass to her lips. "Your suffering stems from hearing your childrens' names?" she questioned indifferently.
Clarissa angrily slammed her hands on the table, hissing in pain as she glared furiously at Gwyneth. "Your presence brings me nothing but suffering!"
Gwyneth took in that look. She was used to that look. The look of horror and disgust. The expression that said, 'You destroy everything you touch! Just die! Die! Die!'
Her lips quivered. "I see..." She took a small sip of her wine.
Clarissa's nose flared. "Everyone at the ball died except you! When you were born, half of Descaera's population was wiped out! I warned Gerald, I told him you were a harbinger of disaster, but he refused to listen. He loved you more than his own children. Why?! Why were you so special to him?! Now he is gone! He is nowhere to be found!"
That outburst made Gwyneth's smile disappear. Standing up, she bowed her head in deference. "I have nothing to do with my uncle's disappearance. I am as worried as you are."
Clarissa scoffed with disbelief. "Do you really think that just because you're titled the fairest in the land, everyone adores you?"
Gwyneth tensed up. She didn't like where this conversation was heading to, but she expected nothing good from the lovely duchess Clarissa, who had never hidden her hatred for her.
"My dear, you are the talk of all the soirées, balls, all gatherings. How death looms over you like the whore you are, killing every man and everything you touch."