Chapter 1 · To Love My Executioner

Chapter 1

Three years ago, Edward Lancaster had my entire family put to death.

I watched as my parents and all one hundred and twenty souls fell dead in the snow.

To seek my vengeance, I changed my name to Vivian Vance and became Edward's mistress.

For three years, I groveled like a pet, my dignity stripped away.

But in the final moment of my vengeance, I hesitated.

*****

Edward was about to be married.

His bride was to be Charlotte Rivers, the eldest daughter of the Grand Duke.

I had heard of her. She was radiant, gentle, and graceful.

The news was brought by her maid.

She swept into my quarters, her nose in the air, as if a moment's lingering might stain her fine slippers.

"Ms. Vance, with the prince's wedding at hand, the manor is being refurbished. Ms. Rivers has prepared a residence for you elsewhere, with everything of the finest quality." Her every word and glance dripped with condescension.

I was tending to a vase of lilies when her words reached me. My fingers trembled, sending the scissors clattering to the ground. In the same motion, I knocked the vase from the stone table, and it shattered on the flagstones.

"What did you say?" My voice trembled despite myself.

A flicker of satisfaction crossed the maid's face, and she lifted her chin even higher. "You're a clever woman. You should understand how things stand. A woman of your station, staying here would only be an eyesore to Ms. Rivers."

She paused, then delivered the final blow. "And the prince hopes you'll be sensible about this and not cause any trouble."

I swayed, catching myself against the stone table.

My face drained of color, and tears spilled down my cheeks, falling like scattered dewdrops.

"I have to see him. I need to ask him myself," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The maid laughed, a scornful, brittle sound that laid bare her contempt. "You think you can see the prince whenever you want? A few years in his bed don't change what you are. You're a mistress, nothing more.

"I suggest you start packing before the prince has you thrown out. And believe me, that won't be pretty."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode off, leaving me shattered in the suffocating silence.

I watched her go, my gaze growing cold as the tears on my face turned to ice.

It had finally arrived.

I had waited three years for this day.

I bent down and began gathering the broken shards. The sharp edges cut into my fingertips, drawing beads of blood, but I felt no pain.

This was nothing compared to the blood of my family.

A cold smile touched my lips. Charlotte Rivers? So this was your warning?

She thought a single maid could send me away, that I would weep and slink off in defeat, a broken woman.

She had no idea who she was dealing with. None of them did.

Edward, you were the same.

The blood of the Monroes, the lives of all one hundred and twenty souls. Do you think I could ever forget?

To you, I was nothing more than a pet kept in your backyard, always at your beck and call, tame and toothless.

Did you really think your crumbs of kindness were enough to buy my gratitude, my loyalty, my very life?

You had no idea. Every fine fabric you gave me became secret letters to my father's loyal men. Every jewel you placed around my neck bought me a spy within your own household.

And every time you granted me the 'privilege' of leaving the manor for some air, I was out there, laying the trap for you.

Now, to make way for your noble bride and strengthen your claim to the throne, you want to discard me like so much rubbish.

What a beautiful dream.

I would make you fall from the very heights, just when you believed the kingdom was within your grasp.

I wanted you to watch, with your own eyes, as everything you had built crumbled to dust, by my hand.

I rose and dabbed the blood from my fingertips with a handkerchief.

My tears had dried. What remained was a hollow serenity, unnervingly absolute.

I studied my reflection in the mirror and tidied myself up.

The woman staring back still wore the mask of gentleness and timidity, but deep in her eyes, something had cracked, then reformed, colder and harder.

"I want to see His Highness," I said, stepping out of my quarters. My voice was soft, but the resolve in it was absolute.

The guard hesitated. "Ms. Vance. His Highness said—"

I lifted my gaze to meet his, letting tears well in my eyes until they threatened to spill over. My voice trembled. "Please. Just let me see him. I want nothing else. I just need to say one thing to him."

I had been playing this part for three years. By now, I was an expert.

This pathetic look never failed to draw a man's pity.

Sure enough, the guard wavered.

He sighed and went to deliver my request.

*****

I stood waiting outside his study for four hours.

The late autumn air was biting, cold enough to cut through my thin dress. The hours left my legs trembling with exhaustion, my feet heavy as stone.

I knew Edward was inside. He was making me wait deliberately.

He was wearing me down, reminding me who held all the power.

It didn't matter. I could take it.

Compared to watching my entire family fall dead in the snow three years ago, the cold was nothing.

My heart had been buried in that snow with my family long ago.

Chapter 1

Three years ago, Edward Lancaster had my entire family put to death.

I watched as my parents and all one hundred and twenty souls fell dead in the snow.

To seek my vengeance, I changed my name to Vivian Vance and became Edward's mistress.

For three years, I groveled like a pet, my dignity stripped away.

But in the final moment of my vengeance, I hesitated.

*****

Edward was about to be married.

His bride was to be Charlotte Rivers, the eldest daughter of the Grand Duke.

I had heard of her. She was radiant, gentle, and graceful.

The news was brought by her maid.

She swept into my quarters, her nose in the air, as if a moment's lingering might stain her fine slippers.

"What did you say?" My voice trembled despite myself.

She paused, then delivered the final blow. "And the prince hopes you'll be sensible about this and not cause any trouble."

I swayed, catching myself against the stone table.

My face drained of color, and tears spilled down my cheeks, falling like scattered dewdrops.

"I have to see him. I need to ask him myself," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"I suggest you start packing before the prince has you thrown out. And believe me, that won't be pretty."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode off, leaving me shattered in the suffocating silence.

I watched her go, my gaze growing cold as the tears on my face turned to ice.

It had finally arrived.

I had waited three years for this day.

I bent down and began gathering the broken shards. The sharp edges cut into my fingertips, drawing beads of blood, but I felt no pain.

This was nothing compared to the blood of my family.

A cold smile touched my lips. Charlotte Rivers? So this was your warning?

She thought a single maid could send me away, that I would weep and slink off in defeat, a broken woman.

She had no idea who she was dealing with. None of them did.

Edward, you were the same.

The blood of the Monroes, the lives of all one hundred and twenty souls. Do you think I could ever forget?

To you, I was nothing more than a pet kept in your backyard, always at your beck and call, tame and toothless.

Did you really think your crumbs of kindness were enough to buy my gratitude, my loyalty, my very life?

You had no idea. Every fine fabric you gave me became secret letters to my father's loyal men. Every jewel you placed around my neck bought me a spy within your own household.

And every time you granted me the 'privilege' of leaving the manor for some air, I was out there, laying the trap for you.

Now, to make way for your noble bride and strengthen your claim to the throne, you want to discard me like so much rubbish.

What a beautiful dream.

I would make you fall from the very heights, just when you believed the kingdom was within your grasp.

I wanted you to watch, with your own eyes, as everything you had built crumbled to dust, by my hand.

I rose and dabbed the blood from my fingertips with a handkerchief.

My tears had dried. What remained was a hollow serenity, unnervingly absolute.

I studied my reflection in the mirror and tidied myself up.

The woman staring back still wore the mask of gentleness and timidity, but deep in her eyes, something had cracked, then reformed, colder and harder.

"I want to see His Highness," I said, stepping out of my quarters. My voice was soft, but the resolve in it was absolute.

The guard hesitated. "Ms. Vance. His Highness said—"

I had been playing this part for three years. By now, I was an expert.

This pathetic look never failed to draw a man's pity.

Sure enough, the guard wavered.

He sighed and went to deliver my request.

*****

I stood waiting outside his study for four hours.

The late autumn air was biting, cold enough to cut through my thin dress. The hours left my legs trembling with exhaustion, my feet heavy as stone.

I knew Edward was inside. He was making me wait deliberately.

He was wearing me down, reminding me who held all the power.

It didn't matter. I could take it.

Compared to watching my entire family fall dead in the snow three years ago, the cold was nothing.

My heart had been buried in that snow with my family long ago.