"Phoebe," the stern whisper from Charlotte straightened Phoebe's spine.
"Y- Yes?" The red-haired beauty whispered back.
Her gorgeous black dress hugged her body perfectly. Intricate lace patterns were stitched to match and mould around her slender hands. Phoebe's ample chest heaved for a minute. She was nervous and unable to concentrate.
Her little meeting with the handsome older man in the dimlit staircase kept playing over and over in her head.
Who was he?
He was tall, attractive and had a slightly amused look on his face.
Her cheeks blushed and Phoebe almost slapped herself to get out of it.
What was wrong with her?
She glanced over to where her best friend Charlotte Degreene was sitting. Charlotte was a tall, beautiful woman with long, straight blond hair that was now tied up in a tight bun. She was dressed in a sky-blue gown with a softly plunged neckline and thin fabric hugging her chest before flowing down to her feet. She was a beautiful woman, but she was also a stern woman.
Charlotte Degreene came from the oldest noble families in the land and well-bred was her middle name.
She was accomplished, capable and above all, she was incredibly loyal to her friends.
Even now, Charlotte wore a puzzled expression as she watched Phoebe. A hint of worry was apparent in her blue eyes. She worried that her friend was so distracted.
Charlotte Degreene could very easily just mind her own business and win the whole test. She would be the first to be selected to be the queen's lady-in-waiting. There was no reason at all for her to watch over and worry about the other three women who were her friends. She did it because she was loyal and kind and Phoebe loved her for it.
"I'm alright," Phoebe mouthed noiselessly to Charlotte and gave her a big smile.
Charlotte nodded, the worry never leaving her eyes before she turned her attention back to her book.
The sunlight was drifting into the room.
It was large and the women who sat in it were sure to drive a whole troop of knights crazy.
Each girl had washed and bathed until they were clean and almost shiny to look at. Their hair was combed, brushed and decorated with roses and other such flowers. The dresses that they had been given to wear were so distractingly beautiful.
Phoebe could not believe that these were dresses loaned to the women for just a temporary test.
How absolutely lavish.
Then again, they were in the palace of Queen Elara Ravenshade. She was an intimidating woman. Most people saw her more as a terrifying myth than an actual person.
Her moods were as careless as the waves of the sea, but her gifts and affection could assure that you lived the finest life possible on earth.
Phoebe focused once again on the book in front of her.
No more thinking about the tall, older man in the staircase.
She had to focus on the task at hand.
She was bound to meet him again anyway with her being in the palace.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she hated herself for it.
The young miss Jean slowly walked through the sunlit corridors.
Her hips swayed in a mesmerizing way as she walked and her long dark hair reached her waist, moving from side to side as the beautiful woman walked slowly to her destination.
She was in the wing reserved for the top officials of the palace.
It was a place where only the most powerful men in the court were allowed.
Very few of these men were actually selfless and faithful. It was, after all, difficult to climb the ranks in court unless you were at least a little greedy and scheming.
Jean's target was the last lounge at the end of the corridor. It was an expensive suite of rooms that belonged to Lord Ronan Ravenshade. He was a man in his early 30s. There was something attractive about him. He was calm with a stern face. He had wide shoulders and well-built torso. His clothes were always pressed and perfect and his green smoldering eyes could catch and hold a lady's attention for an inappropriate amount of time.
He was the queen's blood relative and most trusted advisor. This put him in an incredible position of power.
Jean wondered how he had not been entangled with a woman yet.
Men in such high positions usually secured a family for themselves by taking a wife. They had as many kids as they could and then left their family well-fed and well-taken care of in some posh city while returning to the court.
Beautiful and ambitious women usually vied for the attention of such powerful men.
A mistress may not have a title or a call to his fortune but as long as he lived, she could have anything she desired.
Such an opportunity was not one that was unbothered for long.
Jean reached the door to his rooms. It was locked shut.
She wondered if it was alright for her to sneak in. From what she had heard old Felton say, Lord Ronan had not attended court that day. Neither had he had breakfast with the queen as was his usual practice.
Perhaps he was ill or resting in his bed longer.
Jean would enter his chambers.
She would pretend to have become lost in the corridors of the endless court and feign a headache. The man, obviously a gentleman, would step forward to hold her and she would sensually press her body into his.
It was not a difficult job. Jean had done it successfully many times.
She slowly pushed down on the handle and opened the door.
Gingerly stepping in, she softly closed the door behind her for fear that the guards with their magic imbued spears would find her.
She had entered a large sitting room.
Extravagant sitting sofas and elaborate tapestries pulled the room into a very stately looking chamber. There was a door leading into further rooms and Jean realized that was where she needed to go.