Chapter 2
Aletta forced Kingston to marry me. He didn't want to, but he couldn't defy her orders, so he had to go along with it.
I didn't have a choice either.
On our wedding night, he got wasted and kept calling out Margaret's name.
Back then, it didn't bother me at all.
I just figured our fortunes were tied together. If he made it, so did I. So I did everything I could to help him win the throne.
But things started to change between us a year later.
It was September, and the fragrance of osmanthus filled the air.
At the palace party, Crown Prince Dylan saw how beautiful I was and developed an illicit desire for me.
Kingston stepped in to protect me and got his leg broken in the process. He spent three months recovering before he could walk again.
From that day on, we became closer with each passing day.
Little by little, we started to fall for each other.
When he finally ascended the throne, I was made Queen.
Five years had passed, and I thought I'd finally made my way into his heart.
That was until Margaret returned.
It was raining the day Margaret returned to the capital.
She entered through the city gate, holding her child's hand, making her way step by step. Dressed in black, she was so thin she looked like a piece of paper that could be swept away by the wind.
Kingston was out of the palace on official business when he came across her.
He recognized her right away.
This was the woman he'd spent five years searching for, the one he'd longed for all that time.
She walked through the rain, soaked from head to toe, her face so pale that it looked like she could collapse any second.
He'd spent five years hating her, holding a grudge.
But right then, all that turned into nothing but heartbreak.
Later, I heard his eyes brimmed with tears. He took off his cloak, wrapped it around her, and helped her into the carriage himself.
That night, he didn't come to Phoenix Palace.
The next day, he showed up.
He sat across from me, his face hard to read as he stared at me.
"My Queen," he said, "Margaret has returned to the capital."
My hand froze. He'd never called me "Queen" before.
For the past five years, he'd always called me "Kylie."
I lowered my eyes. "I know."
"Her husband is gone, and her husband's family won't take her back. She has nowhere else to go," Kingston said, his voice slow and heavy.
"Mm."
He paused, as if searching for the right words.
"I want to bring her into the palace," Kingston said.
I snapped my head up, staring at him.
He met my gaze, and there was something unfamiliar in his eyes.
Was that guilt? Or was he just being defensive?
"It was my mother who forced her to marry that man. All of this happened because of me," Kingston said. "I can't just abandon her."
I stayed quiet for a long time, then finally asked, "How do you want her settled?"
He looked taken aback by how calm I was, paused, then said, "Let her stay in the palace for now. Once she's regained her health, we'll decide what to do next."
"Alright," I said.
"Kylie..." he murmured.
"I'll make the arrangements," I replied. "You can rest easy."
He looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just nodded, picked up his cup, and took a sip.
"This coffee tastes great," he said.
"As long as you like it, Your Majesty," I replied.
He left.
Amara stormed in, fuming. "Your Majesty. How could you still serve him coffee? Don't you know the whole palace is talking? They say he carried her into the palace himself, and didn't take his eyes off her for a second."
I stared down at the half cup of coffee left in my cup.
"Amara," I said, "you dare talk about Kingston's business?"
"Your Majesty!" Amara said.
"Go," I said.
I sat by the window, gazing out at the dull, gray sky.
Five years ago, when Kingston took the throne, the system told me I could take my reward and finally go home.
But I refused.
Because I realized I'd fallen in love with him.
I thought he loved me back, too.
But the day Margaret returned, hearing all the rumors swirling through the palace, it suddenly reminded me of those love stories I used to obsess over when I was younger.
In every novel, the male lead always loves just one girl, no matter what.
Just like in the story, Kingston had plenty of other women around him.
But his feelings never changed, not for a second.
He never loved me, not even once.
On the third day Margaret stayed in the palace, she came to Phoenix Palace to pay her respects.
She wore a moon-white dress, with just a single silver hairpin in her hair, so simple and pure, she looked like a white lotus blossom.
"Margaret Wilson, daughter of the Wilson family, pays her respects to Your Majesty," she said.
I looked at her.
She was so thin that her cheekbones were almost sharp, her face pale as paper. But her eyes were wide and glistening, filled with a timid wariness.
"You may rise," I said. "Take a seat."
She stood up and perched carefully on the edge of the chair, eyes lowered, looking for all the world like a startled fawn.
She looked exactly as I remembered. Nothing had changed at all.
"Margaret, are you feeling any better?" I asked gently.
She stole a quick glance at me, then immediately dropped her eyes again.
"I'm much better now, Your Majesty. The King has been looking after me," she replied softly.