Chapter 1

The fire in my chambers raged through the night.

I stood at the entrance, watching the flames turn the sky a deep, blood-red.

The maids and servants ran about, crying and trying desperately to put out the fire, but I stayed motionless, like a clay statue whose soul had long since departed.

It'd been eight years. I'd been the Queen of the Ashford Kingdom for eight years, revered as the mother of the nation, graceful and virtuous, praised by all.

Yet my husband, King Edward Schmidt, never spent a night with me. Even in death, I was still a virgin. How absurd.

On our wedding night, he lifted my veil, glanced at me, and said calmly, "Rest early, Queen. Behave yourself, and this position will always be yours."

Then he turned and left, heading straight to Isabelle Wade's chambers.

After that night, he never came to me again.

He didn't love me. His heart belonged to Lady Isabelle, his childhood friend and lifelong companion.

Everyone in the palace knew that truth.

And I, the Queen, was nothing but a pawn, a tool for him to gain favor with my father and secure his throne.

But few people knew that I didn't love him, either.

I loved William Grant.

I first saw him at the very first party after I married Edward.

He was clad in armor, following Edward into the Great Hall.

He was tall and upright, with deep-set eyes and the sharp, commanding presence of a soldier.

Yet his gaze was gentle, like a warm fire in the heart of winter, radiating heat even from afar.

The moment I saw him, I fell in love.

After that, I found any excuse to be near him. Using my position as Queen, I sent letters asking about the battles at the northern frontier and his health.

I agonized over each word, rewriting every letter, afraid a single misstep would reveal my heart.

I feared William might see my feelings, and I feared he might not.

Eventually, he wrote back.

At first, the letters were brief: [All is well. Do not worry.]

[The northern frontier is safe.]

He only wrote a few words, businesslike in tone, yet they brought me immense joy.

I treasured every letter, hiding them at the bottom of my jewelry box, alongside the Queen's seal.

Over time, his letters grew longer. He wrote about the harsh northern winters, amusing incidents in the barracks, and the starry nights in the desert.

He even sent curious trinkets from the frontier: a strangely shaped stone, a flute carved from cow bone, and a pouch of dried figs.

I believed he cared for me.

I thought those letters and gifts were proof of his affection.

Then came the autumn hunt.

My horse panicked for no reason and bolted down the hillside.

I held the reins tightly, wind screaming in my ears and the servants' terrified cries behind me.

At the bottom lay a cliff. One misstep, and I would die.

At that moment, I saw William riding toward me.

I thought he was coming to save me.

But he rode past, heading for another horse—Isabelle's.

Her horse had also panicked. He reached her at the cliff's edge, lifted her into his arms, and carefully helped her down.

She nestled against him, and he said softly, "You must have been frightened, Your Ladyship," as if soothing the woman he loved.

I, meanwhile, was yanked back by a guard. I fell from my horse, rolled in the mud, twisted my ankle, and lay there, humiliated and broken.

Only later did I realize that William, Edward, and Isabelle had grown up together.

The three of them were inseparable from the start.

The gifts he sent me? He sent them to her as well, along with something more valuable.

That night, I threw everything he'd given me into the brazier, including the letters, the stone, the bone flute, and the pouch of figs.

I watched them curl, blacken, and turn to ash.

The last to burn was a white handkerchief, with the name "Grant" stitched in the corner.

He'd given it to me when we first met. I'd kept it for eight years.

The name twisted and disappeared in the flames.

I thought that was the end of the story.

But fate wasn't done with me.

The crown prince rebelled. His troops stormed the palace. Rosewood Palace was swallowed by fire.

A burning beam snapped and fell toward me. I closed my eyes.

Was this life worth it? No, it wasn't.