Isabelle was entering the large royal studio at that moment, she was radiant, happy, beautiful as ever.
She walked with such delicacy and harmony that she almost seemed to dance and with her small and elegant body she seemed to carry the long and wavy mass of golden hair on her back.
She had entered at the exact moment when her betrothed, Prince Aleksei of Russia was also at the same time.
She seemed content in his company, almost cheered, knowing the future nature of their marriage.
They would have immediately planned to conceive a second child, immediately after the marriage, even if due to their usual and nocturnal intercourses it was not impossible that this happened even before they got married.
When the prince was at her side, Isabelle forgot everything complicated and difficult she had to accomplish and imagined only him and their future together.
She dreamed of caressing his soft curly black hair, dipping her delicate little fingers into it.
She saw in everything: in the sky, in the cool water, in a particularly dark cloud, the magnificent colour of the prince's eyes, which looked at her.
Aleksei was handsome, magnificent, perhaps the most handsome young man Isabelle had seen in her fifteen years.
She was so attracted to him that she almost forgot that he was her cousin.
But it did not matter, on the other hand family unions were something which guaranteed the noble blood of the family not to mix with others with whom it was not worthwhile.
It was an unhealthy way of keeping the family together, and in this case, of making Russia an ally of England.
On the other hand, if they wanted to beat France in time and army this union would certainly be needed to ensure a more stable future on the throne.
Isabelle knew everything had a cost, when the Russian prince had officially become sovereign she would soon have to submit her importance to that of her husband.
On the other hand, Isabelle was only sixteen while Aleksei was already twenty, he must therefore have been more familiar with the power of the crown than his cousin.
In addition, the young woman's academic results had never risen to excellent degrees, while the prince had recently finished his studies in one of the most prestigious royal universities in the whole of Russia and to what Isabelle could know, he had always passed with the maximum, eventually studying law.
They were so different from each other that they almost found it hard to believe they were related.
Isabelle was impulsive, Aleksei thought about what he was doing over and over.
The warm sun poured in from the windows of the large, clear and spacious room and when Isabelle returned her cousin was still writing, analysing and slowly signing the documents that had been assigned to him.
He was so precise that he did not leave even a single word, on the white paper that could escape from the prince's acute sight.
The princess threw herself on his body as soon as she saw him, she didn't care that he was working on state documents, she loved him and all that affection she had now to express it on the young man's body.
She hugged him, kissed him on his cool pale skin, on his cheeks, on his neck, on his mouth.
Isabelle loved that feeling, the feeling of being loved, appreciated, appearing in someone's eyes for once as a person who had feelings and wasn't afraid to express them.
She also imagined Prince Aleksei liked all these little attentions, flattered, but she thought it too soon as she felt the touch of a warm and humid hand grabbing her wrist.
The princess looked up at him until she observed the other's face, her lips were still half closed by her surprise, as the pupils of her eyes had immediately narrowed.
-Not now- the young man whispered calmly, but with a certain accent and decision to sound intimidating -don't you see I'm working right now?-.
At those words, harsh and devoid of affection, the princess hastened to remove her small and weak wrist from the grip.
Isabelle moved it slowly and carefully, he had hurt her, but the prince didn't seem to notice how much force he had used or apologise in the slightest.
The young woman pushed her small, frail body towards her desk.
The air was fresh, warm, almost pleasant.
She placed her back against her desk, dipped both hands inside her wavy hair and pushed some of it behind her ears.
-You are nervous for some other reason and you try to unload everything on me, aren't you?- she ventured.
Aleksei didn't even look at Isabelle, she saw that his face was reddened, his eyes filled with tears, she realised that something was wrong.
She knew men, she knew them well, in every smallness or weakness but in the case of her cousin, she didn't know in any way how she could help him.
-What do you know?- the prince almost stammered from his parted lips -what can you know what it means to lose someone you love...-.
Isabelle seemed struck by that statement, enough to leave her own soft pink lips parted.
She knew what it felt like to lose someone, she knew him well, but she felt no love, no empathy, she just didn't feel emotions.
This is why it seemed so strange to her to observe how her cousin was feeling bad about something so trivial to her.
In addition to any loved one she had lost, she had been the cause of her loss, so she didn't even feel guilty.
But her curiosity enveloped her in a thousand shades, leading her to whisper softly and slowly.
-What happened then, who did you lose?-.
Aleksei seemed almost interested in the fact that his future wife took an interest in his person, in his story and mostly at that moment was seeking comfort so it was not difficult for the prince to express his emotions fully and in the best possible way.
-One of my two older brothers has long been involved in a war which is not taking good turns at all- the prince said for a moment leaving his job and completely turning his face and body towards the distant one of the princess.
-I am afraid, if this should go wrong ... I am afraid the enemies can bring my brother's head to the city, hanging from a spike- the young man stammered, cried almost full of fear, weakly shaking his pale hands, partially stained with black ink on the fingertips.
Isabelle did not understand, she did not really understand, how it could be bad news for him, on the other hand, one less child for the Tsar would mean the fastest rise to power of her future husband and thus also the control of Russian lands.
But Isabelle did not want to seem as cold as she really was in her soul so she just feigned empathy and understanding, at least as much as she was able to.
-I'm really sorry about it- she commented placing her gaze on her cousin -but unfortunately it is not possible for the moment to do anything to help him-.
There was no time to finish the sentence as the heavy and wooden door of the royal studio was immediately opened, followed by a loud thud of the wood which banged against the wall.
On the other side were the two Earls of southern Ireland, they were afraid and on their pale and freckled faces stood the same grimace of fear.
Their red hair was ruffled on their heads as they looked mostly fatigued, but very worried about something.
Isabelle immediately wondered why the royal guards guarding the door had let them in but as one of the twins started talking all thoughts immediately began to vanish from her head.
-Please, I beg you, help us...- one of the two prayed almost crying with tears in his eyes and words in his throat.
-Our cousin, Abigail, has gone to the upper floors and threatens to jump down and to end her life, please help us!- concluded the other, almost reading in his mind what his brother meant.
Isabelle snapped, ran out of the room, almost making the Dustin twins fall on the floor.
No! No! Damn it! It couldn't be! It couldn't end like this! Abigail was a too important hostage and if she had ended her life, then not only the whole of Ireland, but also Scotland would have turned against Isabelle.
The princess ran as fast as she could with her light legs, ran up the white marble steps.
She had to hurry up, to save that life, she had to do it for her own interests.
Isabelle heard crying once she reached the top floor, she heard sobbing and screaming in panic, she was relieved because she finally knew where the Duchess was.
She rushed towards the voice, as close as possible, the princess looked out lightly at the door to which the young woman had managed to reach and to climb up to the wide sill of the open and large window.
Abigail's long red hair was pushed in one direction by the wind, like a blazing fire, while tears streamed down from her large green eyes.
She was not alone in the room, with her was Brooke also in vain trying to persuade her not to end her life like this, that it was not worth it.
Isabelle's internal organs retorted to sense her presence, she hated Brooklyn, but as long as it served to keep her hostage alive, her presence would be welcome.
-It no longer makes sense, nothing makes sense anymore...- she sobbed leaving her frail and slender body more and more towards the emptiness below, she was serious, it wasn't just a farce ...
-Even if I died it would not matter, a person more or less does not matter at all- the Duchess cried more and more loudly and desperately, turning pale to see the world in her last moments.
-It is not true that it does not matter!- Brooke tried with calm and sincere words to persuade her.
-I care, Juniper loves you and your son adores you, besides William and Dickon, your cousins, are very worried about you...- came out of Brooke's lips as she further tried to make Abigail think and so save her life.
From the corridor, Isabelle could hear how much charisma she possessed and it was immediately clear to her that with Brooklyn's help, she could go very far in her plans, she just had to wait for the right moment.
-They took my son away from me, my dear Rudolph, now he is no longer here, with me...- Abigail reflected briefly, looking away from the huge and very high void to which was protruding over her.
-I have to die! On the other hand death is all that awaits me, it's my saviour, after all the evil and injustices I have done...- Abigail tried to convince herself further as her fingers slowly began to let go of the light and woody window boards.
-Rudolph loves you Abigail! You would only hurt him, leaving a child without his mother...- at those words the Duchess held up weakly, for a moment, exhaled, she was one step away from the void, from death that tended to her its arms.
She loved Rudolph, she loved her baby more than anything else, more than herself and she knew that for his sake it would be better not to end her life so soon in such a miserable way.
She closed her eyes, she was sorry but death that day would not take her, she had to be strong for her son.
She stepped off the cold, marble windowsill, she hugged Brooke and burst into tears.