HOUSE OF STORMONT: A Renaissance Story

Beauty in the Gallery

STORMONT PALACE, 1591.

Lillian's POV:

I halted abruptly, my gaze locking with the woman whose eyes seemed to pierce through mine. She was seated—or at least, it appeared so. It was a portrait.

Her black dress was exquisite, adorned with majestic ruffs around her neck and flared sleeves that tapered to fine, pointed ends. A black circlet crowned her head, its diamonds catching the light like captive stars. Her veil—sheer, dark, and delicate—was the kind of treasure I would cherish, if ever I had the chance to call it mine.

Her hands rested gracefully on her lap, a folded fan cradled between them.

But it wasn’t her regal pose that rooted me in place, nor the elegance of her attire. It was her skin—fair and luminous, smooth as milk. It seemed to glow against the dark tones that surrounded her.

Her jet-black hair was swept up into a tight bun, and her face. Her features were near-perfect. Petite peach lips, a long, pointed nose, lashes like silk threads, and brows so perfectly arched they stirred a twinge of envy in me.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at her as she seemed to stare right back—unmoving, yet impossibly alive.

At last, I turned to the girl standing silently behind me.

"Who is she?" I asked softly.

"That is Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Catherine of Calonia." she replied with quiet pride. "The King’s grandmother."

A faint smile touched her lips as she spoke the name.

I slowly turned back for one last look at the beauty. After a lingering moment, satisfied, I continued walking.

I was just arriving at the Stormont court—a place I had only heard of in passing, never seen with my own eyes.

The journey here had been long and trying. A ship carried us—David, the Duke of Pire in Ravenland, along with my entire entourage—for two long months across the sea. A voyage I once believed would never end.

But end it did, at the port of Everia. And almost at once, another journey began—this time by carriage.

The procession was modest but dignified: horsemen leading the way, my brother and I seated inside, a few servants trailing behind, and my dowry secured with care. Slow and steady, as they say, wins the race.

And then, before my very eyes as I stepped out of the carriage, it appeared—the grand Stormont Palace. Towering one hundred and thirty feet high, it loomed above me like a monument to legacy and power.

What will, hopefully, come to be my home for the rest of my life.

***

Returning from the long tour around the castle, I entered my chamber and walked straight to the neatly made bed. I sat on its edge and reached down to remove my shoes.

But before I could take even one off, she clapped her hands—twice, sharply—and a maid standing at the far end of the room hurried toward me.

I was too tired to protest, too famished to decline. I remained still, watching as the maid knelt at my feet and gently slipped the shoes off, one by one. Her movements were slow, careful—treating my feet like something delicate, breakable.

I glanced up.

She stood ten paces away once more, her expression unreadable—a face carved from duty. She stared straight ahead, not at me. Yet there was something familiar in her bearing.

She looked no different from the maids in Ravenland. The same rigid posture, the same marching stride, the same tight-lipped silence. I found it oddly amusing—even now, though I dared not laugh.

"Mary?" I said softly.

It was a guess—I had no way of knowing her name. From the moment I stepped foot in Stormont Palace, she had taken her position silently behind me, never speaking, never introduced.

Her eyes flicked in my direction, and when she realized I was speaking to her, she finally spoke—for the first time since we returned to my chamber after the tour.

“Claudia, Your Highness.” she corrected gently.

“Not to be impatient, Claudia.” I started. “But when am I going to see the King? I’ve been here for hours, you see. My brother is nowhere to be found either, and I appear to have been abandoned—with only you for company.”

It was a genuine complaint. I had not seen the King—the man I was meant to marry—since I stepped foot in his home. He had made no effort to greet me, and I found it rather rude.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Claudia replied with a slight bow. “The King is a very busy man. However, you will meet him shortly. Your brother is with His Majesty as well, madam.”

I sighed.

I had heard stories of kings who were too busy—even for their own families. I had lived under such a reign myself. My father had been the same. Perhaps I had known this would happen again, deep down. Still, it stung.

It was still morning. The breeze drifting in was crisp, and the sun was beginning to peek down upon the palace grounds. I rose from the bed and wandered toward the tall window left open in my chamber.

Looking out, I saw the palace alive with movement—people bustling about their business, seemingly carefree and familiar with their roles in this grand place. And in that moment, I envied them.

It wasn’t like this in Ravenshire. Not at all.

If I were home, I would have already finished my breakfast and would likely be in the garden by now—reading a book, watching my brother’s children play, or enduring another harp lesson I was hopeless at. Archery, on the other hand, I was quite good at—remarkably so.

Later in the afternoon, after tea, I might be in a lesson—learning foreign languages—or with Sebastian, my dressmaker, watching him fashion elegance out of fabric. And in the evening, a ball. And if there was none, I would simply retire to bed, knowing exactly who and where I was.

But this was different. In a new place, surrounded by strangers, I hadn’t the slightest idea what to do with myself. I remained by the window, uncertain, until an idea crossed my mind.

“Come, Claudia. Come sit with me,” I said, turning to my ever-watchful escort.

She didn’t move. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. But I’m not allowed to do so. I am to remain...”

“Ten paces behind me.” I finished with her, the words falling from both our lips at once.

She had said that countless times since morning. Then again, perhaps I had asked her to step closer just as often.

“Very well then,” I said, grinning mischievously. “A chair for you, right where you are.”

Mimicking her earlier formality, I clapped—once, then again, loud and sharp. A maid standing in the corner quickly fetched a chair and placed it behind Claudia with quiet precision.

“Sit.” The word left my mouth more command than request. She obeyed, albeit stiffly, her gown rustling as she did.

"Now tell me, Claudia—who is that woman I saw in the gallery? The beautiful one I couldn’t take my eyes off.”

She answered at once. “As I said earlier, Your Highness, her name is Queen Catherine of Calonia. She is the King’s grandmother.” She paused, studying my face to see if her answer sufficed.

“Go on,” I urged.

But before she could speak again, the doors to my chamber flung open. My brother, David, stepped inside.

Claudia immediately rose, joining the other maids in a graceful curtsy, heads bowed in respect.

David halted in the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his back. Calm, as always. His eyes made a brief sweep of the chamber before landing on mine.

When our gazes met, he smiled—broadly, proudly. I returned it, though mine was more subdued.

“There you are! Where have you been?” I asked the moment he seemed settled.

He chuckled. “Well, sister dearest, I’ve been speaking with the King—arranging a meeting between the two of you.”

“And?” I pressed, my eagerness unhidden.

He laughed. “Get ready. There will be a welcome dinner in your honor this evening, right here at the palace. You’ll meet him then. And please, Lillian—look your very best.”

I smiled, trying to mask my excitement. “I will, my lord,” I said with a graceful curtsy.

He smiled again, then turned and exited the room. The door closed softly behind him.

The moment the door closed, I turned to Claudia, my lips curled into a wide smile, my cheeks flushed as red as roses.

***

The day dragged on slowly, but finally, dusk arrived. I had plenty of time to prepare for the dinner, and trust me—I took every moment to look my very best. First, I had Claudia run a bath of cold water for me.

After a while, the bathroom door creaked open and Claudia stepped out. She made her way to her usual spot—ten paces behind me—curtsying with her head bowed low and knees bent. “Your bath is ready, Your Highness.” she informed me.

I swiftly rose from the bed where I had been sitting all afternoon and moved to the center of the room.

Claudia’s two thunderous claps echoed through the chamber. Almost instantly, a group of maids flooded in, surrounding me as they worked to remove my clothes. In no time, they had succeeded in leaving me completely unclad.

Bare-skinned, I walked toward the bathroom, trailed by the maids with Claudia leading them.

As I pushed open the oak door and stepped inside, I was taken aback by the room’s glamour. It was nothing like the bathrooms back in Ravenland.

The oak door itself was impressive, sturdy and finely crafted. The bathroom was spacious—almost as vast as the chamber it adjoined.

The floor gleamed with marble tiles, much like my chamber’s. In the center rested a large, inviting bathtub, and in the right corner, a sparkling white chamber pot gleamed quietly.

I approached the tub and bent down to touch the water. It felt warm. Suddenly, I pulled my hand back with a gasp, startled.

Claudia rushed to my side almost immediately. “Too hot, Your Highness?” She asked, puzzled.

I quickly turned to face her, the terror still lingering on my face. “Do you not have any cold water?” I managed to ask.

“We do." Claudia affirmed.

“Bring it. And empty this tub—I shall not bathe in warm water.” With that, I stormed out of the bathroom.

With nothing to do while Claudia and the other girls emptied the tub, I settled silently onto the neatly made bed, draping the purple velvet duvet from the queen-sized bed over myself.

After a short wait, Claudia appeared beside me. “Your bath is ready, Your Highness.” She informed.

Without a word, I uncovered myself and dropped the duvet back onto the bed. I stepped forward and began walking to the bathroom, Claudia ten paces behind me.

The maids lined both sides of the hallway, bowing their heads and bending their knees as I passed. Twenty pails of water stood beside the bathtub.

I approached and dipped a finger into each, confirming the water was cold—very cold—just as my governess in Ravenland would have insisted.

Satisfied, I stepped into the tub and slowly lay back. “Come, Claudia. Empty the cold pails over me. We’ll do this before I take a proper bath. Empty fifteen of them.” I instructed.

My escort hurried over, accompanied by five more maids. As they lifted the first pail, I inhaled deeply, holding the air in my lungs. Then came the icy rush. I gasped as the cold water cascaded over my hair, its streams dripping onto my face.

Hearing my gasp, Claudia immediately stopped.

“Continue!” I ordered. And she did.

With the other girls passing the pails to her, Claudia steadily poured the cold water over me, one after another. By the time she finished, my skin had turned pale, chilled to the bone.

Watching the change in my complexion, I wondered if Lady Gracia, my governess back in Ravenland, truly understood what she was teaching me when she insisted I do this my entire life.