Abigail studied the people who glamour their faces with warm, but empty smiles. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Greezman Stonechild, her proposed husband to be. He was completely different from what she had expected. He has blonde hair, puffy pig face, fat square body in a jacket that can contain three men at once. ‘Not again.’ Abigail thought as she tried her best to hide the annoyance that could surface in her face any moment now. She could only suck her teeth as the black bile walked up to her throat. Her gaze went back to the people as the prince’s eyes came her way.

Abigail continued down the hallway away from her chambers. She held the black hood over her head and tucked her blonde hair into it, hoping to keep away her features. The touches on the wall and those on the ceiling shower the marble stone with their radiance, but it would be impossible for anyone to recognize her with them, especially now that the party was at its peak. Soon her mother would come looking for her, but she would be disappointed to notice that her door was locked from the inside. And knowing who Queen Isabel—her mother—was, she would leave the door with threats to discipline her in the morning.Abigail smiled and hurried down, taking the stairs two at a time. She heard approaching voices and hid behind the pillar at the base right of the s

But first, he needed to wait, as he needed to buy their trust. Let them think they had him on their strings.He smiled. His plan was all set, and he just needed to act on it. “Thinking about something?” Vera asked as if reading his thoughts. Her voice still had that motherly taunt on them, and it made him weary with comfort anytime he heard them. ‘Don’t be a fool, and this woman would slit your throat for the right price.’ He thought to himself warningly. Ginika averted his gaze from the city. He studied her face hoping to find the slig

“You were not in your last night,” Zita said as she wiped the candle stand. Abigail hummed as she watched Zita picked up the books that littered the table and arranged them neatly on the bookshelf, which towered the room and was touching the ceiling. Climbing one of the chairs, she opened the curtains to allow the morning air to flood in.“Princess?” Zita asked, referring to her previous statement when Abigail did not reply immediately.

“Are you alright?” She heard someone asked. Abigail grumbled but did not lift her head from the mud. She does not have the energy to do so.  She just poured out some drops of the Amytal fluid and mixed them with dark soil. Then she made a little depression on the mixed soil and was about to place the plant inside, when she knocked the remaining Amytal fluid down. Her frown deepened as she watched the ruined soil. She stood, but the water can fell off the working bench, and the water on it flowed away from the garden. Abigail sighed and picked the little hole. She dusted her hands and walked away from the garden.