Ever since being summoned to Versailles to be Isabelle's handmaiden, Claire's days had been spent in a constant humiliation ritual.
One which she endured like water washed over a raincoat. But lately, Isabelle had stopped beckoning her to her side. The wedding preparations continued, but Claire's role had been virtually forgotten by all involved.
Karl-Franz and Isabelle spent time frequently together, with the man taking the maglev from Berlin to Versailles, and back to Innsbruck as his daily commute.
Claire, however, had spent the next few days reflecting on things that had transpired. Now, in the past, and the future that seemed so uncertain.
It was almost too embarrassing to fully suffer. The way she had acted over the course of the last decade. The way Karl-Franz had behaved in perfect mirror to her own refusal to let go of a past, of a life that had never been granted breath.
