Chapter 1

My husband Edward Lancaster and I were once the most devoted of rulers, a king and queen who truly loved each other.

We reigned side by side, grew old together, and wanted for nothing, except one sorrow that time could never soften.

Our daughter perished on the road to a foreign marriage, sent away to seal a treaty, and I never forgave myself for letting her go.

Then the King's Mage came to us. He claimed he had studied the forbidden arts of Wintergarde and could turn back the years.

I agreed with Edward. We vowed that this time, we would save our daughter and never send her to that fate.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing in the great hall once more, young and trembling in my presentation gown among all the other noble daughters being introduced at court.

Edward was there, just as I remembered him. But something in him had shifted.

I watched him walk past me, the queen's tiara resting gently in his hands, and place it upon the head of my half-sister instead.

*****

I married Edward when I was sixteen. We were deeply in love, treating each other as equals, and we remained devoted to one another for a lifetime.

My only regret, my ceaseless sorrow, was that my daughter, Princess Grace, lost her life on the journey to a political alliance.

By the time the news reached Kingsport, half a month had already passed.

I knelt before Edward's throne, watching his hand grip the battle report so tightly that his knuckles audibly cracked.

He shed no tears, for kings were not permitted to weep, but I saw the heartbreak burning in his eyes.

That was the grief that haunted us both.

Later, the King's Mage returned from Wintergarde and declared he had mastered a mysterious art that could turn back time, though it came at a great cost.

Edward and I had to drink the elixir together, ensuring we would both be sent into the past. Only then could we rewrite our destiny as one.

I agreed. So did he.

We promised each other we would return to the days before Grace was forced into that political marriage. This time, we would make certain our daughter never had to endure such a fate.

We drank the elixir together.

When I woke, the first thing I saw was a faded bed curtain. This was not the canopy of the Queen's Residence.

I turned my head and saw linen drapes covering the narrow window, and in the corner, a simple earthenware pitcher with a chipped rim. It all felt strangely familiar.

After a long moment, I understood. This was the chamber I had stayed in before the royal presentation.

It was a modest room in the east wing of Westmere Hall where the young ladies awaited their turn to be presented at court.

Since becoming queen, I had never set foot in such a humble place again.

"My lady, you are awake?" came a young maid's voice from beyond the door. "It is time to dress. The presentation is today, and all the distinguished guests have already assembled."

I closed my eyes and remembered how Edward had first met me years ago in the Royal Gardens, beside the marble fountain with its carved swans.

I had dropped the sprig of apple blossom I was holding, and he had bent down to retrieve it and placed it back in my hand. Our eyes met.

Later, he told me that was the moment he lost his heart to me.

"My lady," the young maid said as she pushed open the door, carrying a gown of pale ivory silk in her arms. "Please, allow me."

I rose and let her attend to me. In the polished silver mirror, a young face stared back at me, with wide hazel eyes, cheeks flushed like rose petals, and skin as smooth as fresh cream.

Was this truly me, so young again? I lifted my trembling fingers to my cheek.

I could hardly believe it. I had truly returned to the past. Why had I come back to this age? Did the elixir go astray?

And what of Edward? Had he returned to this same moment, as I had?

The young ladies gathered before the great gallery in the Royal Gardens, murmuring and whispering in small clusters like a flock of doves.

I stood at the edge of the crowd, my gaze sweeping over the sea of silk gowns and feathered headpieces toward the gilded chair set upon the dais, draped in cloth of gold.

Edward had not yet arrived.

"Zelda," a voice called from behind me.

I turned. Isabella Sterling, my half-sister, stood there, offering me a smile as sweet as honeyed wine.

She wore a gown of dusky rose silk that set off her delicate beauty, her expression soft with practiced shyness.

I had seen Isabella's face for years, and my distaste for her had never dulled. We had rubbed each other the wrong way since we were children, and the years never softened it.

"Isabella," I replied coolly.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Isabella stepped closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "I had a dream that you became queen.

"You were robed in crimson velvet and wearing a tiara. You looked so magnificent."

I merely looked at her, saying nothing.

Isabella blinked and added, "If you truly do become queen, do not forget your little sister."

Before she could finish, a herald's voice rang from the far end of the gallery, "His Majesty the King approaches."

Everyone sank into deep curtsies and bows in perfect unison.

With my head bowed, I watched a pair of polished leather boots, dark as midnight, stride past me and come to a halt just ahead.

Then another figure approached and stopped directly beside those boots.

"Rise," Edward said. His voice was so deeply familiar it felt stitched into the very thread of my soul after all our years together.

I lifted my gaze. He stood at the entrance of the gallery, clad in a doublet of deep blue velvet embroidered with silver thread, his features as noble and striking as the first day I had seen him.

He was so much younger than the king I had known twenty-two years from now, his eyes yet untouched by the weary burdens of state or the private griefs that would one day carve lines upon his face.

Beside him stood a woman in a gown of rich purple silk, a diamond diadem glittering in her silver-streaked hair. She was the Dowager Queen.

But Edward's eyes never once glanced in my direction. Instead, a cold wave of confusion and dread crashed over me.