Chapter 1

Charlotte Rivers opened her eyes to the sound of candles crackling by the bed.

She stared up at the roses embroidered on the canopy for three seconds, and then her mind split open like someone had poured boiling oil straight into her skull.

Every memory from her past life came rushing back at once.

She had spent three years locked away in a forgotten wing of the palace. Isabelle Frost had carved up her face with a shard of broken glass and forced something down her throat to kill the baby inside her.

And at the very end, when the poisoned wine slid down Charlotte's own throat, she heard a steward shriek from the corridor.

"By order of Prince Edward, Princess Charlotte stands guilty of high treason and collusion with the enemy. She is hereby sentenced to death by poison."

Charlotte died without Edward Blackwood ever coming to see her. Not once.

*****

Charlotte shot upright in bed, gasping for air.

In the mirror across the room, a young face stared back at her. No scars, no sallow skin. Her complexion was smooth and fair, untouched by time. She was fifteen again.

She sat frozen for several seconds before she looked down and saw the wedding gown draped over her body.

Footsteps echoed from the corridor, steady and heavy, each one landing like a blow against her chest.

Edward stepped inside.

The last time she had lived through this moment, she had been too terrified to even lift her head. She had curled up at the edge of the bed like a frightened bird, and he had left her alone in the bridal chamber the entire night.

By the next morning, the whole court knew that Prince Edward, the kingdom's greatest warrior, wanted nothing to do with his new bride.

This time, Charlotte raised her chin and smiled at the man who had killed her in another life. "Your Highness, please have a seat. I have a matter I'd like to discuss."

Edward's stride faltered for half a step.

He wore a dark military coat with silver insignia, his features sharp and cold, with the kind of distance in his eyes that warned people to keep away.

He hadn't expected her to speak first. His brow shifted, barely perceptible. "What is it?"

Charlotte drew a folded document from the layers of her gown and held it out with both hands. "A divorce." Her voice was quiet, but every word carried.

The entire chamber went still.

The candles on the table were still burning, their flames swaying and casting two long shadows against the wall.

Edward didn't take the paper. He glanced down at the writing, and his eyes narrowed. "On our wedding night, you want to divorce?"

"Yes." Charlotte rose to her feet and pushed the document closer. "Your Highness can rest assured. I want nothing. My item will be returned as it came, and I won't take a single coin from the estate. I'll leave with nothing and never trouble you again."

She said it all lightly, the way one might remark on a pleasant evening.

Edward stared at her for a long moment. The woman standing before him was nothing like the one he remembered.

The Rivers family had sent their illegitimate daughter to him once before. She had cowered behind Joanne Rivers, too afraid to even meet his eyes, and her voice had been so faint it was barely audible.

But the woman in front of him now stood with her back perfectly straight, her gaze sharp and clear, and the faintest smile resting at the corner of her lips.

She was smiling, but her eyes were cold as frost.

Edward reached out, not for the papers, but for her chin. He caught it between his fingers, his thumb pressing against her jawline, and tilted her face up. "Charlotte. Are you really Charlotte Rivers?"

The woman he remembered had never once dared to meet his eyes.

Charlotte didn't flinch. She held still under his grip and looked him dead in the eye. "Your Highness doesn't believe it's me?"

"No."

"Good." She reached up, peeled his fingers from her chin, and stepped back.

"A wife who doesn't match your memory is nothing but a liability. Sign the papers, Your Highness. You marry the woman you actually want, and I go back to the Rivers Manor where I belong. Everyone gets what they want."

Edward said nothing for a few seconds, then pulled the papers from her hand.

Charlotte's pulse quickened. Had it actually worked?

The next second, Edward folded the papers in half right in front of her, then folded them again and slipped them inside his coat. "We'll talk tomorrow."

He turned and left without another word. His dark cloak caught the night wind and flared behind him, and the door swung shut with a low, heavy thud.

Charlotte stood still, the smile fading slowly from her face.

She stared at the closed door, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her wedding gown.

In her last life, he had stormed out on their wedding night because he despised her. This time, he stormed out again, but he took the divorce papers with him.

What was that supposed to mean?

She drew a deep breath, sat down at her vanity, and began pulling the pins from her hair.

It didn't matter. If he wouldn't sign, she would find a way to make him.

She wanted nothing from this life. Nothing except distance from Edward, her own survival, and a quiet corner of the world where no one knew her name so she could live out the rest of her days in peace.

Halfway through removing the pins, a thought struck her.

In her last life, Isabelle had come to "pay her respects" the very next morning.

That woman, his mistress, all sweetness and warmth on the surface, had walked in carrying a bowl of warm broth and then "accidentally" spilled it, scalding Charlotte's hand.

She had dropped to her knees in tears, begging forgiveness, and everyone walked away convinced that Charlotte was too petty to tolerate her.

And the fool Charlotte had been in that life had actually forgiven her.

She set the pins down and met her own reflection in the mirror with a cold smile.

She opened the hidden compartment in her vanity and pulled out a small wooden box.

Inside was the inventory of her wedding gift. In her previous life, Joanne, her father's first wife, had kept her on a tight leash.

Half the gift had gone missing, and what remained was laced with counterfeits. She hadn't dared speak up then, but this time would be different.

She read through the list from top to bottom, and her smile widened with every line.

"Joanne, oh Joanne. You skimmed my allowance for ten years. This time around, I'm taking back every last coin, with interest."

A clock somewhere down the corridor chimed. It was well past midnight.

Charlotte tucked the list away and blew out the candle.

She lay in the dark with her eyes wide open, staring up at the embroidered lovebirds on her bed canopy.

In her last life, she had hated Edward. She had hated him down to the bone.

But in her final moments, she had overheard the maids gossiping and learned the truth that the poisoned wine had never been his idea.

He hadn't saved her, though. He never came, never looked her way, and never offered a single word of explanation.

She had spent three years in exile, on her knees, begging to see him. Every time, the answer came back the same. "Prince Edward will not see you."

So this time, she wouldn't hate him. She wouldn't love him either.

All she wanted was out.