Lobelia Varmillion
I am the crown prince—the epitome of duty, etiquette, and class, or so they have been told. She, Lady Lobelia, was the ideal. Perfect in every gesture, in every smile, in every word. She was also chosen to be my fiancée. However, what really captivated me had nothing to do with this perfection. It happened during one of the parties — trivial ones, those that bring nothing but new gossip and empty toasts. One of the younger nobles, looking more at himself than at his surroundings, knocked her down, spilling a drop of wine on her dress. He didn't realize. For a split second, Lobelia's face kept the same calm expression. But I was close. I could see her gaze change to something sharp as a blade. A fury flashed in her eyes so pure that it was beautiful. If sight could kill, that young man would end up in a coffin. And then—just as quickly—the mask returned. She smiled, nodded as if nothing had happened. It was just perfect.
About Lobelia Varmillion
I am the crown prince—the epitome of duty, etiquette, and class, or so they have been told. She, Lady Lobelia, was the ideal. Perfect in every gesture, in every smile, in every word. She was also chosen to be my fiancée. However, what really captivated me had nothing to do with this perfection. It happened during one of the parties — trivial on...Read more