The women were different in almost every way, but had their advanced age and beauty in common. Catherine was no longer convinced that the prince was merely a victim of a spell gone bad. If there had not been some very specific selection on his behalf, then the spell must have detected his personal taste in women somehow. Either way she felt terribly inadequate.
The one closet to her right was a tall, pale read headed woman with harsh features and a seemingly endless neck. Her fiery hair was piled on top of her head and made her seem even taller, and she was dressed in dark blue, making her cream coloured skin stand out even more. She, like most of the others, seemed to be in their early or mid twenties, and they all moved with a grace that Catherine would not be able to copy in a thousand years. She sat very still.
The woman next to the read head was a large, blonde woman dressed in light blue with striking blue eyes and a body that, even underneath her dress, gave an impression of strength and agility. She and her neighbour were in such perfect contrast that Catherine suspected they sat next to each other on purpose. The next woman, dressed in dark red, was as dark and soft as the previous was light and hard. Her soft, black hair fell in shiny strands to the seat of her chair, making Catherine remember the scissors of the morning with dread. Even when the length of her hair had been able to compete with this almond eyed woman, it had never been so pretty.
The last woman was also blonde, but with brown eyes. The most striking thing about her was her defined jaw and her large, red lips. Her dress was forest green and her hands were long and slim.
The conversation was revolving around the tale of how someone's brother had caused a problem in a province that controlled part of the silk trade, making the prices soar as the demand had been thousandfold greater than the supply for several months. Catherine did not feel that the subject was important enough to demand her full attention, so she glanced around the room while pretending to listen in.
There were thirteen women apart from Ingrid and herself in the room. The nine others were split into two groups of three and six, but the faces were more than she could take in. A few of them seemed to somehow demand attention with their body language, but she could not put her finger on anything alarming. As she was doing her best to observe the women, she suddenly found herself locking eyes with a brunette in a yellow dress, with short, straight hair in the other end of the room. The woman stared at her for a very long time. Catherine pretend to look around some more, but every time her gaze drifted towards that part of the room, she could feel the woman's eyes on her.
Suddenly, the yellow clad lady rose out of her chair, throwing aside a handkerchief she had been holding in her hands.
“This has gotten ridiculous,” she snarled, looking at every other woman in the room in turn, except for Catherine and Ingrid. “I will no longer risk my honour and good name playing this game and I hope the rest of you will come to your senses as well. The last few additions to our shameless little group have been ridiculous, as we can all agree,” she eyed the one of the women at the table right behind Catherine, most likely the blonde or her dark companion, but she could not tell without turning around. “But the last one is an insult. I apologise, as I do not know your age, my dear, but I will not stand for this. I bid you all farewell.”
She left with slow, deliberate movements, nodding at some, glaring at others. Catherine felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She had not expected for anyone to be so blunt. The room was filled with a stunned silence for several moments before the conversations started again. As Catherine turned back towards the table, she noticed the blonde at her left hand getting up from her chair with an apologetic glance at her.
“I too will be taking my leave. Goodbye,” she said, and left before anyone could react.
“Better chances for the rest of us,”the other blonde at the table murmured. The read head shot her a chocked look, but did not comment. She turned towards Catherine.
“So, my dear, I hope you journey here went well?”
Catherine smiled and nodded.
“Difficult thing, such a vow. I could never have done it. My great grandmother was silent for a decade hoping to get married to the heir to the throne. She told me she lost all her beliefs when she settled for my great grandfather. Of course, this was on my mothers side.”
Catherine smiled a little more, taking note of the implied insults.
“Is this very common,” the dark haired woman asked in a soft, deep voice that Catherine envied instantly. She had not heard her speak until now. “I never heard of it.”
“Oh, it used to be! It was a wide spread belief that keeping the vow for a settled period of time would grant the young lady in question fulfilment of a wish.” She turned towards Ingrid, and her entire tone and bearing changed to something harsh and demanding, that suited her features frightfully well. “How long will the young lady be silent?”
“My lady has vowed to be silent for at least three years, or until her honoured mother recovers her health,” Ingrid said. Catherine could not quite recognise the intelligent woman from earlier in Ingrid's subdued, slow voice. The read head turned back to Catherine.
“That is very sweet of you, dear,” she said. “Allow me to express my very best wishes for your mother.”
With that, the conversation returned to politics and subjects that seemed tailored for the occasion in their neutrality.
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