Madeline Armitage Novels & Stories

“Marcelline, of course. Leaving Rowan Adair at his own table… in a helicopter, no less! Truly cinematic. Half of high society is eating it up. I swear, the women are thrilled. Imagine, the silent wife walking away with such flair. It’s… well, Selene, it’s delicious.” Selene’s blood went cold. She forced a brittle laugh. “Cinematic? Please. Marcelline’s nothing but a desperate housewife clinging to relevance.” “Mmm,” Lady Armitage drawled, unconvinced. “Funny, isn’t it? Everyone thought she was meek, invisible. And now, suddenly, the entire city can’t stop saying her name.” The call ended, but the echo remained, buzzing in Selene’s skull. Everyone can’t stop saying her name.

She believed her life was about to change for the better. She bought a house and settled down. She was certain Tristan would never find her here. Or maybe he wouldn't even bother. He had finally ended up with Regina, so why would he go looking for the ugly woman he had dumped? Still, Madeline didn't dwell on it. Instead, she pulled herself together and began preparing to look for work again. She majored in fine arts at university and was especially outstanding in illustration. After studying abroad, her talent truly stood out. Initially, she had planned to build her career there. But for Tristan's sake, she gave it all up.

And they were trying to drag his sister into their sordid lives. “Infamous is more like it,” he bit out. “I’ll ruin him for this.” “I don’t blame you, Gage, I don’t, but before you engage in serious ruination, we need to figure out how we’re going to handle the media firestorm Madeline is about to get hit by.” Lily had met Maddy on a few occasions. She was a pretty brunette, petite and fine-boned, delicate and small, none of the height Gage had inherited passed down to her. She looked young, and in some ways seemed younger.

Mother cut her off, grabbed my sister by the arms, and dragged her out of the living room, leaving us alone. For a minute all she did was stare at me with that sugary smile permanently fixed on her lips and then suddenly it was gone. Her eyes turned glassy as she took slow measured steps towards me. Madeline was a beautiful woman. A hauntingly beautiful one. She had rich golden skin that glimmered in the light. Her hair was the darkest I had ever seen. They were long and straight, spilling over her shoulders and down to her waist. The strands were luxurious as ever but were coarse and stiff with the numerous hair products she had used constantly over the years.

A few forced smiles. Lady Beatrice, one of the older women with kind eyes and graying hair, cleared her throat delicately. "Your Highness, we're so pleased you could join us today. We were beginning to think you might prefer to avoid court functions altogether." "I prefer a lot of things," Adrienne said. "But duty calls." More glances exchanged. Helena's lips twitched. "We were hoping," Lady Madeline ventured carefully—she was young, maybe twenty-five, with auburn hair and the cautious air of someone navigating dangerous waters—"that we might discuss some of the... traditions here in Camelot. To help you adjust to your new role."

says Peter peeling the lady away from me “calm down she’s not going anywhere” “Oh gosh I am so sorry” the woman says stepping back from me. She’s about 6 foot tall and looks to be in her sixties with her hair pulled back in a silver bun. “I am Madeline, I was yours and the King’s nanny, when you were all children, Now I care for the Highnesses.” She says a little more solemnly than she was before. “Madeline, can you make some tea please?” Alex asks the woman as she nods and walks away. Alex ushers me into the nearest room which turns out to be a parlour of some sorts.

I said. I tried to think of any similarities between them. Bronwyn loved to read too but she wasn't a nerd—in fact, she gave us a lot of trouble rebelling and moving from party to party when she was in high school, but she’s still a good kid regardless. “How old is she?” Madelaine asked. “She turned nineteen almost two months ago, I guess,” I said. “You guess?” “I’m sure.” “Is she in college? What’s her major?” she asked.