A Careless Slip Becomes A Clue

I slip the note into the folds of my gown and retreat to my chamber as though nothing is amiss. Once inside, I lock the door and bring it out again, laying it flat on my table. The handwriting stares back at me, dark, angry strokes pressed too hard into the paper. Whoever wrote this did not wish the queen well, that much is clear. To call her throne “gilded,” to speak with such venom… it reeks of envy. Or worse, resentment that had festered long enough to turn deadly.

I decide not to show this note to anyone. Not Lina, not even the king. And certainly not Gregory. Once, I would have run to him with it, shared my suspicions, asked for his thoughts. But things are different now. Since that night of my shameful breakdown, the raw promise I made before the king, I’ve kept my word. I have not spoken to Gregory, not picked his calls, not answered his texts.

But I’ve seen the way it eats at him. The hollowness in his eyes during dinner, the way his gaze lingers on me, begging for a glance I