The Criswell's Curse

As the serene afternoon sun warmed the land with its presence, the servants eagerly rushed from one side to the other, finishing all the preparations for the big event. A few Barons, close friend with the Earl, had already entered the grounds, alongside some of their peers who were obnoxiously friendly. They chatted in the inner part of the garden, waiting for those of higher standing, hoping to catch a big fish in a stagnant pond.

“Lady Holly, I am so glad you could make it.”

“Lady Ophelia, I am truly thankful for your kind invitation.” She gracefully grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling it upwards while bobbing the torso slightly forward. Her forced, gentle looking smile, her beautifully long and curly blonde hair, her almond-shaped blue eyes; mimicked an angel who’d taken a human’s shape.

“Please, don’t be so formal with me. I am truly happy to finally meet you, My Lady.”

As Holly heard the cursed child’s words, Patricia’s words became comprehensible. Ophelia was a sheep, a naive girl who had no clue of the influence and power her lineage possessed. The young noble woman smirked momentarily, imagining how this girl would be the perfect pawn for her goals, how her stupidity would become the best weapon a weak noble could attain.

“In that case, Ophelia, please call me Holly!” Her smile was warm, yet her words were filled with disrespect, abusing on the casualty department. Noticing Patricia stood by the hostess’s side, smirking from ear to ear, Holly’s heart raced. Their plan would work. “I am sure you have many guests to greet. I wouldn’t dare to disturb you any further. Lady Patricia...!”

Rapidly, the fake Saint dashed towards her friend, who promptly guided her into the inner garden. Ophelia could hear them giggling loudly as they walked, probably mocking her, probably celebrating their momentary victory.

But she didn’t respond. Patricia and Holly were right where Ophelia wanted them to be. They thought she was a sheep, but they knew nothing. Their own ignorance was bound to be their doom, even if not today.

Once their voices became baffled by the voices of the remaining nobles and servants, the hostess’s attention focused on the garden. Behind a handful of trees and bushes, several tables rested, being covered in gorgeous snowy pieces of cloths, falling straight onto the green grass. On top of them, perfectly made transparent glasses rose, blending in with the pale blue porcelain plates adorned with many delicacies. A central table had a small tower separated into several floors, each with unique layered cakes, fitting any tastes. Even the servants’ uniforms had been colored in a light blue, reminiscing of the bright Blistering sky. Earl Hillgarden sure surely knew how to impress, having gone above and beyond for such gathering. Besides the lack of high-society members present, one couldn’t distinguish this party with a Duke’s gathering, as everything seemed far too similar, dwelling in riches and thriving with exquisite items.

Ophelia glanced towards some bushes, some meters in front of the iron fence. Jade’s eyes connected with hers as he watched her from afar. She knew the deadliest threats were the ones surrounded by silence, and his presence as a shadow would allow her to have the upper hand.

She knew this party would become the buzz in the capital for weeks, if not months. Gossips, rumors and hidden truths would roam around like a maniac spreading faith to the false God. And no one could prevent it.

“Milady, your ribbon is falling off.” Ivy approached me, her hands grabbing the thick strand of her master’s raven hair. “Should I tie it for you?”

Everyone knew how one’s appearance clouded a mind. All the attendants needed to be perfect, to be at their peak performance, in their best shape, with their best attire.

The noble lady quickly nodded, allowing the maid to remove the silky looking purple bow from the bottom of her hair moments before redoing her braid in a matter of seconds. Its color blended in perfectly with Ophelia’s long, dark purple dress. At the hem of its skirt, a custom-made black flowery embroidery had been carefully crafted, matching the darker pattern in the corset. A big amethyst jewel rested between her breasts, right at the center of her cleavage. Black gloves made of lace which rose to her elbows, contrasting her pale skin. Her earrings carried two medium-sized amethysts almost laying at the middle of her neck, forcing one’s attention to shift onto the silver necklace which connected to the corset of the dress, with its two gray chains, adorned by some smaller pieces of jewels. Her breasts popped out just enough to leave others wondering, wanting to know more.

She looked beautiful, mysterious, slightly seductive, as her dress was a perfect fit.