Chapter 2

The study door creaked open.

His personal attendant, Leopold, stepped out, his face a mask of blank indifference. "His Highness will see you now."

I forced my numb legs to move, swaying as I found my footing.

Each step sent a dull ache through my stiff limbs.

*****

The study was warm, filled with the soft, soothing scent of herbs burned to calm the mind.

Edward sat behind the massive oak desk, a dark robe draping his frame. He held a quill, studying a document. Candlelight traced the hard, cold lines of his profile.

He didn't even glance up. I was beneath his notice.

I made my way to him and sank into a deep curtsy. "Your Highness," I croaked, my voice rough and thick with tears.

He paused at last, lifting his gaze. Those dark, fathomless eyes held the familiar coldness I knew so well.

"Why are you here?" His voice was flat, the tone one might use with a stranger.

The question cut me to the quick.

I was not there for him. I was there for my parents and my brother.

This was the man. He had won my father's trust with kindness, then turned and betrayed him, condemning my entire family to death.

Hatred coiled in my gut, a venomous snake sinking its fangs.

But I couldn't let it show. I had to be Vivian, the girl so hopelessly in love with him.

"Your Highness. I heard you are to marry Ms. Rivers?" I looked up at him, my eyes glistening, my voice small and hesitant.

He answered with an indifferent grunt, speaking of it as casually as one might speak of the weather.

"And... what of me?" My voice trembled as I spoke.

A faint, cruel smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. "Vivian, you're clever." He set his quill aside and leaned forward, steepling his fingers on the desk. "The Rivers family's influence is vital to me. I need a wife whose standing befits my own."

He paused, his gaze resting on me, assessing me as if I were a piece of goods. "You've been with me for three years and served me faithfully. I won't forget that."

He reached into a drawer and produced a stack of banknotes and a small, ornate wooden box, sliding them across the polished oak toward me.

"Five thousand in banknotes, and a small estate outside the city. The deed is in the box. That should keep you well enough for the rest of your life." His voice was flat. "Find yourself a good man, and forget all this."

He made it sound so simple.

How could I possibly forget?

How could I forget my father's eyes, wide with terror in his final moment?

How could I forget the way my mother looked at me, just before she drank the poison?

How could I forget my brother, just come of age, cut down by arrows as he shielded me, buying my escape with his life?

I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, biting back the scream that threatened to tear from my throat.

"No! Your Highness, I don't want your banknotes, I don't want your estate." I sobbed, shaking my head.

I sank down before him and clutched at the hem of his robe. "I just want to stay by your side, even if... even if I have to be the lowest maid. Please, don't send me away, I'm begging you!"

I pressed my forehead against the cold stone floor, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my body trembling with each suppressed cry.

In every tear, every tremor, I heard the Monroes screaming from the snow. Edward, did you hear them?

A flicker of impatience crossed his face. He frowned and tried to push me away.

But I held on, clinging to him like a drowning woman to the last piece of driftwood.

"Vivian." His voice turned to ice, a clear warning in its tone.

"Your Highness, I love you." I looked up at him, my face wet with tears.

"For three years, you have been the only one in my heart. How could you... how could you be so cruel?" I sobbed, pouring out words soaked in pain. I was almost convinced by my own act.

The study fell into a dead silence, broken only by the sound of my stifled sobs.

After a long moment, he sighed. It was a sound of irritation, yes, but there was something else in it, something I couldn't quite name.

In the end, he reached out and pulled me to my feet.

His fingers were cold against my flushed skin, and I shuddered at his touch.

All I felt was revulsion.

"Get up," he said, his voice softer now. "There's no need for this."

He took out a handkerchief and awkwardly dabbed at my tears. "Vivian, you need to understand. Some things are not meant for you."

He continued, "You were born with nothing. Being my mistress was already more than you could have dreamed of. Now I am offering you a chance at a decent life. You should be grateful."

Grateful?

I nearly laughed out loud.

I, Evelyn Monroe, was the daughter of a general, born to privilege and honor. And now, in his eyes, I was nothing more than some lowborn girl.

And he, a scheming viper who had climbed to power by destroying the innocent, dared to play the gracious savior, as if bestowing his mercy upon me?

What a joke!

I lowered my gaze, hiding the hatred that churned within, letting him see only the tears that clung to my lashes.

"I... understand," I managed, forcing the words out past the tightness in my throat, my voice shaking.

I took the banknotes and the box from his hand. "Thank you, Your Highness."

I stepped back and curtsied, the gesture stiff and awkward.

Then I turned and started toward the door, each step a weight I had to drag.

My back was ramrod straight. It was the last defiance left in me, the last remnant of the Monroes' pride.

I couldn't break. Not now.