My Sister Stole the White Knight, I Married the Dark Duke After Rebirth

The runaway horses dragged the carriage hurtling toward the gorge. Rosalyn's fingers clamped around my wrist, her nails digging deep into my flesh. Her face was white as paper, but there was no fear in her eyes, only the savage satisfaction of someone who had won.

The carriage slammed into the mountainside, and the crack of shattering bone reached my ears before anything else.

"Elena." Her breath came in ragged gasps, but her smile was cold and cruel. "In this life, don't even dream of being Duchess."

The next second, the carriage plunged off the cliff.

I bolted upright on the prayer room bench, my palms pressed flat against the cold stone floor. Outside, the bells rang out and nuns hurried through the corridors. One hour until the Twin Rose Oath Ceremony.

The spot where the old needle marks dotted my wrist still throbbed with a dull, bruised ache.

In my previous life, Lucian always rolled up my sleeves with that warm smile of his and pushed a vial of blue liquid into my veins. He told me it was just something to calm my nerves. By the end, I couldn't remember what I had written, couldn't remember who I had seen. Everything about my past had to come from his lips.

The prayer room door swung open.

Rosalyn walked in, lifting the hem of her skirt, her face a perfect display of sisterly concern.

"You look awful. Are you scared about marrying Adrian?"

Her lips said nothing more, but the voice inside her head came crashing into mine, crystal clear.

[This time, the White Knight Lucian will be mine.]

I looked up at her in silence.

Rosalyn had been reborn too.

She believed my previous life of wealth and glory had all come from Lucian's protection. She believed that Adrian, the Black-Armored Duke rumored to be cold and savage, was the one who had ruined her life and sent her crawling back to the Vere family. She had no idea that every jewel Lucian gave me was an invisible chain, nothing more than pretty wrapping put on display for the world to admire.

In the corridor by the window, a tall figure in black armor flickered past. The hem of his heavy cloak was damp with the cold rain of the northern lands. His profile was sharp and severe, handsome, but radiating the kind of presence that warned everyone to keep their distance.

The thoughts of passersby buzzed around me in a constant, noisy stream. But this man was like a sealed well. I couldn't hear a single thing.

Adrian Hawthorne.

The one man I never managed to see through, not even by the time I died in my last life. The same man my sister had schemed so hard to steal.

Rosalyn looped her arm through mine, her smile warm and harmless. "Come on, dear sister. Today, we both get to pick ourselves a good husband."

I watched her quietly, not exposing her true thoughts. In both this life and the last, she was always this single-minded about taking what she wanted, even if it meant killing me.

If she was so desperate to have it, then let her. Let her take everything she believed was the best.