The ladies and handmaidens of the queen, Katherine of Aragorn, wife to King Henry VIII of England, were constantly in service, specially employed for their accomplishment to meet the specific requirements that would allow them to become who they were. First on the list was looks. The women of Katherine were said to be only the most beautiful women in all of the country, beautiful women to keep powerful and dangerous men entertained and amused. Second was a name, surname. The Boleyns, for example, were renowned as a fine and impressive family that always got what they wanted. Lastly was wealth, which usually came along with a good name. Money is what paid the taxes, built the ships of war, raised armies, and destroyed enemies.
There were Mary and Anne Boleyn, two striking young women of the court with their attractive façade, popular among the court with a flattering surname. They were beautiful opposites, well-matched rivals, and alluring sisters. Whoever knew Anne or Mary wanted to befriend them and those that were friends to the two wanted to stay friends. Men coveted them, women wanted to be them, and nobles swarmed about them with the constant hope of gaining their eye and favor.
There was Jane Parker, a spiteful youth promised to none other than the brother of the Boleyn sisters. Her nose was always wrinkled as if someone were holding something rank beneath her snout, as if she constantly smelled something rancid. Nosy described her for she was always to one to eavesdrop and gossip, her tongue sharp and snake-like, acidic.
There was also Adrienne Evreux, finally back in England, with a face that was sharp in profile from the arch of her lusciously dark brows to her chiseled lips of red that were skillfully defined, yet full. Her skin was a creamy white with a hint of color beneath her cheekbones. Her pale eyes stood out, as did the rest of her features, everything about her prominent, unable to miss. She was gold among silver, a young woman, scarcely sixteen, that stood out, always the focus in a roomful of people.
The women of the court liked to gossip about her, Jane Parker with her head cocked to the side, nose furrowed up, and an acrid smile on her lips as she giggled.
"I hear she has a lover in Whales," a woman whispered with a giggle. "She has another three in Italy as well. They say she is the mother of two children in France."
"She could play the part," Jane said. "Just look at her."
The girls all turned their heads to where Adrienne sat across the room with Mary Boleyn, solemn expression on her face as she moved a needle in and out of the fabric before her, sewing a shirt for the poor, nodding as Mary told her a piece of a story with a smile on her pink lips.
"Pretty and quiet," Jane continued in a low voice, "but associating with the Boleyns. She must be a fool. The Boleyns are trouble."
Across the room Mary suddenly said to Adrienne, "Hear their hisses over there? No doubt spreading stories about you. That is the way she is, Jane Parker. She is supposed to be wed to my brother, George, soon. I would feel sorry for any man that had to wed her, especially if that man is my own brother. Jane is a gossiper, Adrienne. She likes to make up and broaden rumors about you. You are the talk of the court lately," she finished enviously.
Adrienne didn't look up from her sewing. "Let children be children," she said of Jane and the girls circled around her. "She doesn't know me at all."
Mary looked at her curiously. "You don't care what they say about you?"
"No," Adrienne replied with a gentle shrug. "It hardly bothers me."
"What about the rest of the court? Are you at all happy they are all talking of you?"
"I do not care in the least."
Mary gaped at her. "Really? You truly do not care that you are the heart of all conversations? All the men, dukes and counts, will know your name, yearn for your attention, seek your hand to kiss, and wish to dance with you."
Adrienne didn't say anything, only pushing the needle back into the fabric and guiding it back out. She had become quite popular when she returned to the court after many years in France and Italy, the people in her home country happy to see a fresh new face.
Mary inhaled the new girl's scent, sweet and enthralling. She watched her slender fingers as they moved carefully and skillfully at their work. Her eyes went up her toned arms to her distinguished shoulders and from her shoulders, her sight went grudgingly to her breasts, a thin line of cleavage shining above the plain, blue fabric of her dress. Her gaze went down her form to where her slim body gradually widened into feminine hips that made Mary's jaw clench. As Adrienne stood, smoothing her dress, Mary scrutinized her thighs through the material of her dress, deciding they were firm yet desirable, and then raked her eyes down her legs before eventually coming to a pair of heeled feet that were small and thin.
"I need some fresh air, Mary," Adrienne said with a nod to her fellow handmaiden.
Adrienne walked out of the stuffy room and down a long corridor and a flight of stairs until she came to an elaborately crafted door and opened it. She found herself standing before an exquisite garden of bright, vibrant colors. There were flowers with petals of red, pale pink, and yellow. Lilacs, honeysuckle, roses, lilies, and other extravagant flowers and smells. Adrienne smiled and let out a little sigh of laughter. She gathered her dress and rushed into the large space with its stone walls.
She ran through a maze of green bushes and shrubs, each cut to resemble different things. There was a knight on his steed, a hound, and a large heart. Adrienne examined a bush that was shaped into an angel, complete with wings and a halo on its head. "Lovely," she murmured. She continued until she came to a group of young trees, oaks, that would one day grow into large trees to provide lumber for the king's warships.
A few paces away began a section devoted to fruit bearing trees with figs, berries, and other flavorsome fruits. She plucked an apple from one of the trees and inspected it in her palm, watching the sun make its crimson skin twinkle in its light. She brought it up to her nose and inhaled its rich, decadent scent.
In the heart of the garden amidst the roses, bushes, saplings, and fruit trees was a large stone fountain. Adrienne made her way to it, munching on her apple, and sat on its outer rim. She peeked down at her own reflection wearily as she ate the apple, watching her features distort and ripple. She frowned at herself and her eyebrows drew together fiercely. She hated the way she looked, beautiful, as she was, pleasing, enviable. Women followed her around charting her every move and men chased after her skirts, tongues lolling out of their mouths, eyes wide and glazed.
Adrienne let out a sudden grunt and tossed her half-eaten apple into the fountain, dousing herself in droplets of water, her reflection flickering into oblivion.
"Excuse me, my lady, but may I inquire as to where his majesty, King Henry, may be?" a voice called.
Adrienne turned around to find a young man standing a few feet behind her, ruffling his head of thick brown hair out of habit, the overgrown tresses nearly tumbling to his shoulders in waves. They fell flawlessly back into place as he clasped his hands before him, his bright blue eyes gleaming, lips slightly parted.
"King Henry is on the hunt at the moment," Adrienne said with a dim smile. "He shan't be much longer unless the stag puts up a good chase. Would please the king, a good chase," she added, musing over the last bit.
The man smiled a dazzling smile and his eyes shone even more brightly as the sun came from behind the clouds and shone down upon the fair woman. "He deserves a good chase," the man said. "The man has a hard job, the whole of the country in his hands."
"I'm Adrienne Evreux," Adrienne introduced herself.
"Caspian Sykes," the young man said with a little bow. "I come from a long journey on the seas."
"How remarkable," she responded politely.
Caspian pursed his lips, making them look even more engaging. Above his beautiful almost girlish lips was the fine indent of a teardrop, and up was his nose, long and straight, centered perfectly on his face. She traced a path up the vertical line of his nose and met two of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. They stole her breath.
Two crystal-clear pools of the most brilliant blue. Distinctive and utterly matchless in their radiant color, a color that could only be compared to something as beautiful as the sky or the ocean. The had no hue to them, uniquely blue, from the irises of his eye to the rim of his pupils. Only as she stared more deeply into his eyes did she see the hidden emotions, things that changed the way a man perceived the world.
Caspian in turn stared at the gorgeous woman before him, body magnificent and matured, sweetly curvaceous where it counted, thin everywhere else. Her face was also very attractive, outlandish with the sharp lines and slanted eyebrows, lips a scarlet that cosmetics could not mimic. Wisps of raven hair fell forward from beneath the stylish hood of a cloak; head bowed and concealed in the dark haven the hood provided. Her gown was one of plain material and making, made more beautiful by its simplicity.
Her facial structure was sharp to such an extreme that if her features were emphasized a bit more, she would look alien and inhuman. As it was, she was flawlessly saucy, Caspian deliberated on the word. Saucy indeed. It was not her looks that made her so eye-catching, it was also the way she carried herself. Her posture displayed confidence and security as well as an understanding as to what her limits were, what she could do. From the way she bore herself, chin raised high, shoulders even, spine straight, she could have done anything. As Caspian stared back into her eyes, a pale grey, almost translucent like fog, he found there was nothing she could not accomplish. In her deep eyes was the determined spirit of a has-been waiting to break back out and restart. Her feelings were hidden behind that layer of fog, wounds that would not heal or be forgiven but could be covered up.
They stood there, evaluating and trying to interpret a bit about one another, their hearts beating hard in their chests, breathing quickening, pupils dilating, nostrils flaring.
Finally, Adrienne broke her brash gaze and averted her eyes to look at her feet. "I'll show you to the banquet rooms," she said breathlessly. "I am sure you are tired and thirsty from your long journey. We have hot ale, if it would please you. The feast will begin shortly after King Henry's return." Adrienne turned on her heel and walked past the handsome man and exited the garden, stepping back into the hall. "Follow me," Adrienne advised and Caspian offered his arm. Adrienne took it and led him down the hall in silence until they came to the king's elaborately decorated banquet hall. There were a few people making last minute preparations and a few women scrubbing the tables and chairs.
"The others are in the next room," Adrienne said and the two made their way to the adjoining room.
"Caspian Sykes!" several voices cheered.
Caspian smiled and observed the room. It was a antechamber with provided plush seating, musicians, and goblets of sweet drinks. The walls were hung with affluent tapestries and drapery, the floors carpeted with flamboyant rugs of many colors, and all the men and women in the room were dressed in their finest attire.
"Caspian!" a large man boomed. "I have not seen your filthy mug in years!"
"Ah, Julian!" Caspian said with a wide grin. "I figured you had died of old age by now."
The group of people laughed and Julian said, "I'm not much older than yourself, my young friend. What is ten years?"
"What is twenty years?" Caspian retorted.
"Twenty-three years," Julian confirmed. "I'll be forty-eight this September."
"And I will be twenty-five this November," Caspian said smugly. "You'll have to add another year."
"Who is this divine woman on your arm?" Julian asked. "I have yet to introduce myself to her. In fact, she has yet to introduce herself to me."
"I am Adrienne Evreux," Adrienne said with a short curtsy. "Lady of the court of Queen Katherine."
A buzz went through the gathering of people fortunate to be at the banquet.
"Julian Lamont," the man answered after a moment. "I have heard whispers of your name, dear Adrienne. Rumors of a mystifying beauty, and for once, rumor proved true for you are both mystifying and beautiful."
Adrienne smiled stonily. "Thank you," she managed. Men only saw what she was and not who she was. "If you kind ladies and gentlemen will excuse me, I must ready myself for the banquet." With a well-bred curtsy, she walked gracefully out of the room. Her strides were smooth and even, carefully measured. Heel toe, heel toe. Her elegance was astounding, everything about her fluid and graceful, her cape swirling about her with each step.
Into her rooms she went, removing her dress slowly and pulling on her crimson costume dress. She struggled lacing the strings in the back as it was a difficult challenge for a single person.
"Allow me to help you ready your dress," a soft voice called from the doorway.
Anne Boleyn, image of shadowy beauty, dressed in an emerald green gown that fell to the floor with a long train trailing behind, her brown hair piled trendily on her head, the scent of lavender wafting off her.
"I would be glad of your help," Adrienne said hesitantly.
"It is hard to dress one's self," Anne said as she gathered the loose laces in that back and undid them, securing them more firmly and tightly through their little slits of openings, then drew them back sharply and continued to pull them until she was satisfied with her results and fixed the laces in the back. "You smell wonderful," Anne added.
"French perfume," Adrienne said. "Thank you for your aid, Anne."
"It was my pleasure," Anne said. "May I inquire a small question from you?"
Adrienne considered for a moment than relented with a nod of her head. She brushed her dark hair and plaited it quickly, securing it on her head with several pins, marveling at how seamlessly a few strands fell from her head, falling along the sides of her narrow face.
"Is Adrienne Evreux your real and true name?"
"No," she replied.
Anne's eyes lit up and her tongue flickered out, wetting her lips. "I thought not."
"My real and true name is Adrianna Lorelei Evreux," she corrected. "Adrianna is quite a mouthful so I prefer Adrienne. As for Lorelei, no one is really known by their first and middle name, are they? It's just not fashionable nowadays."
Anne's smile vanished from her face. "No," she said tightly. "I suppose it is not."
"Shall we proceed to the feast? The masque will begin shortly."
"We shall," Anne said and they walked to the chambers where the banquet was being held.
"Ladies! Here! Here!" the ladies of the court called in their masked costumes.
"Your mask, Adrienne!" Jane Parker cried. "Oh tell me you do have it!"
"Yes, it is here," Adrienne said and pulled the red mask from the folds of her gown and strapped it in place. She had dusted some silvery powder on her cheeks and from the looks of Jane and a few others, it looked graciously acceptable.
"To the floor!" a voice called and they dashed from behind the curtain and waltzed into the middle of the room while the crowd clapped politely.
Murky, ominous music played as Adrienne began by kneeling before another a woman masked in black, playing the part of evil. Adrienne's hands were clasped beneath her chin, a feigned look of fright on her face. The woman held a black scepter and waved it over the Adrienne's dark head, waving it in a slow circular motion. Adrienne rose and swayed on her feet, bringing her hands to her head and swinging her body limply. The other girls each received the blessing of the dark lady and each stood in a circle, moving as Adrienne was.
Then the music quickened and the dance of seduction began. The women trudged heavily and slowly, deliberately, their hands coming above their head then down to their hips, swaying them slowly before kicking out a leg and bending to the side, turning their heads to the lady cloaked in black.
The music hushed for a moment then came back, revamped intensely as she swung out her arms mightily and threw back her head and the ladies fell back in mock death.
The crowd clapped and the man, disguised as angelic beings in colors of pale blue, gold, silver, and white.
A man in white trimmed with silver chose Adrienne to dance with him, silvery mask on his face. She gave him her hand with a slow smile and he led her to the dance floor.
Rose petals had fallen into her hair and sugared fruit littered the floor. She laughed as the man danced with her, taking her hand and twirling her around gracefully, his steps as easily executed as her own.
Adrienne peered up into his face and saw two clear blue eyes staring at her.
"Caspian!" she hissed, tripping over her feet for a moment. Caspian held her more firmly as she regained her footing.
"I thought I had chosen you," Caspian said. "I hoped I had picked accurately."
"Yes, you certainly have me," Adrienne said. "Are you a man of nobility?"
"Ah, well that is both in the right and in the wrong," he answered.
"How so?" Adrienne queried and Caspian swung her out, reeling her back in. She fell into him for a moment and his eyes twinkled down at her.
"You dance well, lady in red. What is the theme of the masque?"
"There is no title for it. It was of a new invention. Now answer me, dear sir."
"Demanding, are we?" Caspian chuckled. "What if I do not?"
"I shall keep bothering you, I suppose," Adrienne huffed. "Just curious. I do not recognize your name."
"What is a name? It is but a title and like tonight's masque, I have none."
"Then you are not of nobility?"
Caspian was silent. "D'you think it matters? Do you wish I was of nobility?"
Adrienne found she did. She could be courted by a man with a name and family of note. Though she scarcely knew the strange man before her who held her hands in his, his brilliant eyes gleaming down at her, lips parted in smile, teeth beautiful as the man that bore them, she truthfully did hope.
"Yes," she whispered.
"If is so pleases you, then I am happy to grant your wish. I am formally known as Viscount Caspian Sykes but Caspian is just fine. It is just a title, dear girl."
"Viscount," Adrienne repeated. "Just a title." Then the call came to unmask and they both did so and stared at the magnificence of one another's face.
As she dined, Caspian across from her, eyes never leaving her for long, Adrienne thought of what her family would say about a viscount. A viscount? Come on, Adrianna! You can do better than that! Snag yourself a prince or better yet, a king. We are Evreuxs, girl!
"Just a title," Adrienne repeated in a low whisper that only she could hear. It was who he was not what he was that counted. "Just a title, indeed."