She was the most fashionable woman in the kingdom; while the First Princess Sperenza was the magic genius of the Royal Family, Second Princess Sorcha was deemed to be the most beautiful and artistic. She had set off numerous cultural trends since she debuted into high society. Libitina thought she was arrogant at first but soon took her as a role model on how to spurn off scheming people with an aloof and distant face. The Second Princess was also the good friend which had designed a whole collection of dresses and fashion ensembles for Elizabeth to dress Libitina up with.
However, Second Princess Sorcha had disappeared from most social events ever since her marriage with Duke Adrian Frederick, the nephew of the King of Auglarus, was announced. Libitina had not seen her for months and was thus happily surprised to see her close friend.
"Sorcha! What are you doing here?"
"Aren't you glad to see me?"
"Of course, I am! I've missed you so much."
Samantha quipped, "I've talked to Sorcha already, so I'll go find Christopher and leave you two some private time."
"Thank you for your help, Samantha," Sorcha grinned.
"No problem. No one will come find you in such a rural place like the Josephian fief, so talk as long as you wish. I will send some tea to you later."
After Samantha left the room, the two women hugged each other again.
"Sorcha, I haven't been able to contact you after the marriage announcement. What happened?" Libitina asked worriedly.
"What else but my Royal Father?" Sorcha twisted her mouth, but it still looked good on her. "He cut me off from the outside world after I told him I would run away if he pressed on with the marriage with that foreign Duke. All I had to do was to focus on the wedding and my lessons, he said. A silly nob of nosiness and nonsense he remains to be, and I can't imagine how he will evolve has he grows older."
"Is there no way out?" Libitina frowned. "You have to marry?"
Sorcha laughed sadly. "Is there no way out? What do you think, silly girl? When you are the princess of a kingdom, and your power comes from your father, there is little you can do! Well, enough about my sob stories. I heard that Sydney and you manage to pass the Bill. How are the sales?"
"It's going well. The industrial equipment is gaining us the greatest profit margins. However, more and more people are starting to purchase the household magical tools for daily use."
"Clever. Your 'mass market' idea sounds like it is going well. That's good. What a funny and brilliant brain you've got."
"Thank you, Sorcha. I hope that everything will go well for you, too."
Sorcha led Libitina out to the gardens. The weather in the Josephian fief was colder than the Merveille's, which made for a nice change. They shivered slightly, and the chilly winds blew gently at their thick coats.
"Things better go well for me," Sorcha softly laughed, her red lips pulling back from her pearl white teeth enchantingly, "Or I will write to you and Sperenza to come save me from the horrid Duke. Oh, bless!" she gave an exaggerated cry, and the two girls burst into laughter.
"You would come for me, wouldn't you? With knives and magic all together. Sydney would probably bring his cakes to the battle, while Sulian muddles in the background, as he always does."
"Yes. Just one cry, and we will come." That wasn't a lie.
Sorcha gave her a brilliant smile.
"Honestly, imagine me—married! And I have no idea how my fiancé is like."
"I heard that he is quite the handsome man," Libitina muttered.
"Well, looks matter, I guess," Sorcha looked at Libitina pitifully while she pressed her hand dramatically to her forehead. "Such handsome, burly men from the country of brawny brutes, and I wonder why they can't get a wife from their own people."
Her voice then turned duller. "Auglarus," she ridiculed, "discriminates against women to a certain extent. Perhaps that is what my Royal Father wants. To marry me off to such a country, I will never get to live my dreams as a fashion designer if my fiancé does not support me, and bring shame to the Royal Family."
"Sorcha…" Libitina didn't know what to say.
"What, Lina? You know its true. He may drink the purest wine, he may compose the classiest tune, but that bastard will never get true art."
"Sorcha—"
"Everything has a purpose. Even his daughter."
"Sorcha," Libitina grasped the rambling princess' hand tightly. The cold wind blew against them again as the thin trees shuddered. She looked into the princess' amethyst eyes.
"If you so desire, do you want to run?"