Chapter 1

I tucked the last gold coin into the hidden compartment at the bottom of my bundle. I patted it once, feeling reassured.

Tomorrow morning, I turn 25, finally old enough to leave the palace and start a life of my own.

The medicine still simmered in the adjoining room at Rosecourt, sending up thin clouds of bitter white steam. I picked up the porcelain bowl and carried it into the inner chamber.

Crown Prince Julius Belgrave was reclining on a cushioned chaise. He coughed violently, each fit wracking his body until his cheeks flushed with a sickly red.

I walked over and held the bowl to his lips.

"Your Highness, it's time for your medicine."

Julius didn't take it. He suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist, squeezing so hard that I knew it would leave a bruise.

But he didn't look at me. His gaze passed over my shoulder, fixed on something far away as he murmured a name under his breath.

"Bianca…" he whispered. "I wonder if you're cold over there."

My expression remained stoic as I let him hold my wrist.

Bianca Wells was the princess who had been sent across the border to marry a foreign prince and secure a political alliance. She was also the woman Julius had never stopped loving.

Without saying a single word, I pulled my wrist free and set the bowl down on the small mahogany table beside him.

"Your Highness, your medicine is getting cold."

Only then did Julius seem to come back to himself. He glanced at me, the familiar coldness and superiority immediately returning to his eyes.

He picked up the bowl and drained it in one go.

"The physicians say most of the poison has finally been cleared from my system," he said, wiping the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. "You've done your duty well."

"Thank you for your praise, Your Highness," I replied, lowering my head respectfully.

Of course I'd done well.

For the past five years, I'd practically sampled every poisonous substance known to man just to help him find a cure for Bianca's mysterious illness.

But I wasn't some selfless saint. I was just a woman who cared very much about money.

…

My name was Mildred Brown, a plain and boring name I'd chosen for myself.

I had been the illegitimate daughter of a powerful lord, born to a mistress he kept hidden from the world. His wife had refused to acknowledge my mother and me, determined to protect the family's reputation.

When I was ten, Mother fell gravely ill.

I spent hours outside the family estate, pounding on the gates and begging them to help her until my hands were bruised and bleeding.

From inside the gates came the steward's cold voice.

"If you can't afford medicine, then go die somewhere else. Don't disgrace this household by begging at its door."

I was so cold that my entire body had turned numb by the time I ran back to the drafty old chapel where we lived.

Still, Mother was already dead.

Even in death, she'd been clutching the tattered prescription I'd begged someone to write for us.

That was when I learned a lesson I never forgot—without money, one could only wait to die.

Without money, even my own father could pretend not to hear me while his wife drove me into the ground.

Eventually, I decided that money was the only thing in this world I could truly trust.

I wrapped Mother's body in an old blanket and sold myself into royal service.

…

On my first day at the palace, I was too distracted by a silver coin lying on the ground to watch where I was going.

I ended up walking straight into Julius' carriage.

A palace guard immediately shouted for the guards to seize the attacker, and I was pinned to the ground.

Julius coughed as he drew back the curtain.

He had an exceptionally handsome face, with refined features that gave him a gentle appearance. But he'd been sickly for as long as anyone could remember, constantly confined to bed and surrounded by medicine.

"Take her to Rosecourt," he ordered. "Give her the lowest-ranking household duties."

And just like that, I became a servant of Rosecourt.

Julius was chronically ill and had a notoriously weak body. His worst episode came when he developed a dangerously high fever that wouldn't break, and even the royal physicians were helpless.

Desperate to keep my position, I stayed by his bedside for three whole days without a wink of sleep or a change of clothes.

Somehow, I managed to pull him back from the brink of death.

When he finally woke, he was so weak that he leaned against my shoulder. His voice was barely a whisper, but his promise held a quiet certainty.

"You saved my life," he croaked. "From this day onward, I'll protect you for the rest of your life."

I actually believed him and let myself indulge in the fantasy. I thought I'd finally found my very own fairy godfather.