Chapter 1

Clara Linwood, my old friend from home, may have come from humble beginnings, but she prided herself on being above flattery and swore she would never seek His Majesty's favor.

When her lady's maid stole her jewels and sold them behind her back, I had the girl whipped and turned out. Clara sighed and said I had cut off the poor creature's bread and that I had shown myself to be small and cruel.

On the night she was summoned to the king's chamber, I barred the door against a brazen favorite who meant to steal her place. Clara only murmured that one must learn to yield, that no woman should seek to keep the king's grace all to herself.

When she fell ill with a winter fever, I rode to the royal physicians and forced from them the draught that saved her life. She later told me that life and death were beyond our command, and I had no right to press learned men into service.

When I stood up for her against the matron who punished her for hours over some imagined slight, she just said the old woman's discipline was for our own good.

When she was raised in rank and accused of plotting against the royal heir, I moved heaven and earth to clear her name. Yet before the king himself, she claimed every scheme had been mine alone, done without her knowledge.

In the end, she rose as the realm's most virtuous royal consort, while I was branded a wicked temptress and beaten to death.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day she was shortchanged her monthly allowance.

*****

I jolted awake just as my lady's maid, Maggie, came in carrying a basin of water. Her face lit up when she saw I was awake. "My lady, thank heavens you're up at last. Lady Clara came by earlier. She saw you were resting and didn't wish to disturb you, so she left."

I pushed myself up, my voice hoarse. "What time is it?"

Maggie replied, "It's just past noon." Then she added worriedly, "Lady Clara's eyes were all red. She said the stewards of the Royal Household docked her monthly allowance again. She hoped you might speak on her behalf."

I glanced at my hands—smooth, not a single scratch or drop of blood. Memory crashed over me like a tide.

In my last life, it had been this very day. The moment I heard Clara had been wronged, I had stormed straight to the Royal Household offices and quarreled with the chief steward until the walls nearly shook.

I won her silver back, yes. But in doing so, I made an enemy of the Lord High Steward himself—and planted the seeds of every hardship that followed.

And Clara? She took the silver I had clawed back for her and said gently, "Grace, you're just too fiery. We're new to the palace. It's wiser to keep the peace."

Back then, I thought she was truly kind and pure, too good to get caught up in palace drama.

Thinking about it now, it was almost ridiculous.

She wasn't above fighting. She simply didn't want blood on her gloves. She kept her hands clean and her reputation spotless while others charged ahead, took the blows, and bore the blame for her. Each of us was a stepping stone on her path to power.

And I had been the hardest stone of all. The one she shattered completely.

"My lady?" Maggie called out softly, her voice trembling. She'd been watching me in silence for a while; my expression must have startled her.

I came back to myself and sneered, "Where is she?"

"In her chambers, my lady. She's waiting for you," Maggie replied.

"Let her wait," I said coldly.

I rose leisurely and crossed to the dressing table. The girl reflected in the mirror still had traces of innocence in her eyes—not yet the infamous temptress shaped by years of palace intrigue.

I touched a bit of kohl to my brows, tracing them slowly and with care. In this life, I would not be her blade. I would be the hand that held it.

When I was ready, I made my way slowly to Clara's chambers. As expected, she was still sitting there, waiting anxiously for me.

The moment she saw me, she sprang to her feet. Tears brimmed in her eyes. "Grace, you're finally here. I... I truly don't know what to do anymore." Her voice hitched as she pressed a well-worn handkerchief to the corner of her eye.

"Those people at the Royal Household Office are simply outrageous. This month they gave me only three silver crowns. I can hardly reward my attendants with that." She reached for my hand, her icy fingers quivering ever so slightly. "Grace, you've always been bold. You're the only one who would stand up for me."

In my last life, I was completely taken in by her helpless, tearful look and went through hell and high water for her.

I gently withdrew my hand, my face unmoved. "Clara," I said evenly, "it's only a few coins. Surely it's not worth losing sleep over."

The sorrow on her face froze. She clearly hadn't expected me—the one who always had her back—to say something like that.

I picked up a small honey cake from the table and held it out to her with a smile. "Don't you always say that gold and silver are worldly trifles? That we must guard our honor and never bow our heads for a crust of bread? Perhaps the Almighty now sees fit to try your virtue, for when the soul is at rest, even a crust tastes as sweet as feast-day fare."

I pressed the cake into her hand. "Have this to tide you over."

Clara stood there gripping the pastry, her face shifting from pale to flushed and back again—a whole parade of emotions flickering across her features.

She parted her lips as if to argue—but I didn't give her the chance. "Reflect as you see fit, Clara. I have affairs of greater import to attend. Fare you well."

With that, I turned and walked away, not sparing her another glance.

Behind me, I heard her sweep the cake onto the floor.

My smile deepened. Clara, this was only the beginning. You cherished your spotless virtue? Very well—I would see that you wore it like a crown, day and night. You longed for honor and high standing? Then you would claw your way toward it yourself. I meant to see how much that precious "principle" of yours was worth when your stomach truly began to gnaw.