Before I died, the King’s first love returned.
He allowed her to tear my dress and poison my kitten.
I couldn’t sleep, my heart aching, tears streaming down all night.
I had once been the King’s favorite–his jeweled rose, his whispered promise of a crown.
He swore I would sit beside him as queen.
But then he began lifting another woman’s veil, forcing me to kneel outside the palace chambers and listen to their passionate nights together.
He asked me, “Aren’t you jealous?”
I didn’t tell him I was already gravely ill, and death was closing in.
Three years into my reign as the King’s favored mistress, Lady Vivienne Wildthorn came back to court.
She moved like wildfire―untamed, radiant, leaving scorched earth in her wake.
Since her arrival, Alaric hardly came to see me.
Rumors spread that I was losing favor.
Elara dealt with the gossiping maidservants, but the next day, Vivienne came to confront me.
The girls who had been spreading rumors about me were all under her service.
Vivienne had a face nearly identical to mine, and as soon as she saw me, she smiled.
“So you’re the famous Lady Seraphine,” she mused, tracing a gloved finger along my jaw. “How curious. We might be sisters, were I prone to vanity.”
Her smirk cut deeper than any blade. “Though I suppose that explains his… attachment.”
Suddenly, I remembered the first night I spent in his chambers.
How he’d murmured “Vivi” against my throat like a prayer.
I’d thought him fevered–brought him wine, cooled his brow.
He’d laughed, pulling me down into the furs. “Sweet fool,” he’d sighed, but his gaze drifted through me, searching for shadows.
Now I understood.
Vivi… Vivienne.
So that was it.
