Chapter 2
Katherine cut me off with a shrill voice. "Shut up! Isabella, aren't you embarrassed? That was all me."
She clutched Rhett's arm, tears pouring down her face. She looked so miserable that even I felt a pang of sympathy.
Katherine sobbed. "Your Majesty, don't believe her. Back then, I risked my life to save you. My hands were raw and bleeding, but she was cowering in the back, afraid for her life.
"Now that I've got your favor, she's trying to claim credit for stuff she didn't even do."
Rhett's expression softened.
He reached out and gently stroked the top of Katherine's head.
"I know, my dear Katherine. You've been wronged," he said softly.
Rhett turned toward me. Even though he couldn't see me, I could feel the bone-deep hatred coming off him.
Rhett said, his voice icy, "Isabella, Katherine is pure and kind. She doesn't bother arguing with you.
"But you keep pushing it, trying to snatch her credit right in front of me.
"You're nothing but a greedy, lowlife woman. Hearing you talk makes my ears filthy."
I watched them.
One was the man I'd once poured my whole heart into loving.
The other was the sister I would have given my life to save.
Right now, they were a match made in heaven, while I was nothing but the mud beneath their feet.
The last ember in my heart was snuffed out by the icy truth before me.
What a joke it was that Katherine was pure and kind.
Katherine could steal everything I'd earned from ten years on the battlefield without batting an eye.
She could watch me fall from grace and still stab me in the back.
"Guards!" Rhett's voice held not a shred of hesitation. "Drag this wicked woman out and throw her into the monastery.
"Spread my words. No one is allowed to treat her. Let her live or die on her own."
The guards stepped forward again, hauling me out by the shoulders like I was nothing but roadkill.
My torn tendons dragged across the rough stone floor, the agony so intense that it nearly made me black out.
I bit down hard, refusing to let a single sound slip out.
"Wait," Katherine called out suddenly, her voice carrying a hint of hidden malice.
"Your Majesty, Isabella is so badly hurt. If no one cares for her, I truly can't bear it," she said, sounding almost sympathetic.
Rhett's tone was full of indulgent affection. "You're too kind. Even after all she's done to you, you still worry about her."
Katherine suggested softly, "Why not let my maid go and 'look after' Isabella?"
She deliberately stressed the words "look after," making them sound almost like a threat.
Rhett waved his hand, not caring in the slightest.
"Fine. Handle her however you want. No need to report back," he said, his tone indifferent.
As I was being dragged out of the royal palace, I turned back for one last look.
Katherine was nestled in Rhett's arms, and from across the room, she gave me a silent, smug smile.
Her lips mouthed the words: "Isabella, you're dead."
I closed my eyes, letting tears and blood mingle as they slid down my face.
I swore that Rhett would regret this one day.
When enemy armies trampled his kingdom, and he finally saw that the woman he treasured couldn't even lift a sword, he'd be begging me to return.
But by then, the War God of Floretino would be long gone.
The monastery was the shadowiest, most miserable corner of the royal palace.
The air was always heavy with the reek of harsh detergent and mold, a nasty smell that never faded.
The guards dumped me onto the muddy ground reeking of waste, like I was nothing more than a bag of garbage.
A heavyset woman trudged over, carrying a laundry stick. It was Hazel Holt, the maid in charge there.
She was also the one Katherine had sent to "look after" me.
"Well, well, if it isn't Floretino's legendary General Langston," Hazel said with a mocking grin.
I tried to sit up, but my limbs were like a puppet with its strings cut. All I could do was flop around in the mud, looking pathetic.
One of the maids snorted.
The maids around me burst into raucous, derisive laughter.
"Some general, huh? Look at her now. She can't even crawl. She's a useless cripple," one of them sneered.
"Serves her right. That's what she gets for trying to steal Lady Katherine's credit. She's got no shame at all," another scoffed.
Hazel crushed my wrist under her heel, grinding it down with merciless force.
I couldn't take it anymore. A blood-curdling scream tore from my throat.
Cold sweat instantly soaked through my back.
"Wailing for your soul, huh? Get used to it. Here, you're nothing but the lowest servant," Hazel jeered, looming over me with a twisted grin.
"Lady Katherine said if your hands are so restless, you might as well put them to work," she mocked.
She jabbed a finger at the mountain of dirty laundry piled up nearby.
"If you don't finish by sunset, don't think about getting dinner," Hazel sneered.
I was convulsing from the pain, my voice so faint that it was barely audible. "My hands... they're shattered."
"Even if they're shattered, you still have to wash," Hazel barked.
Hazel slapped me hard with the back of her hand, and my cheek puffed up instantly.
"If you're still breathing, you better work. Floretino doesn't waste food on slackers, and not on vicious bitches like you," Hazel sneered.
She hauled up a bucket of well water and dumped it right over my head.
"Awake now? If you are, crawl your sorry self over here," she barked.
The water in the depths of winter was so icy that it felt like knives stabbing straight through my bones.
I sprawled helplessly on the stone steps, biting down on the corner of my clothes, and used every ounce of strength to drag myself, inch by miserable inch, toward the washbasin.
With my hands ruined, all I could do was trap the filthy clothes between my elbows and grind them back and forth in the freezing water.
Every single movement tore at my shredded tendons, and soon, blood was seeping out, staining the basin of clear water red.