Chapter 2

The pain was unbearable, but I bit down hard on my lip, determined to stay conscious.

The assassins were dealt with before a cup of tea could even cool, and I was quickly carried back into the palace for the royal physician to examine.

Word reached Cyrus Pattison's ears through the King himself, and he came flying back, dropping to his knees the moment he arrived. "Your Majesty, I was too slow to protect you. I beg Your Majesty's forgiveness!"

The King looked at him with more than a little disapproval. But since I — Cyrus's wife — had risked my life to save him, and was still in danger, the King had no intention of making things difficult. Instead, he said, "It's thanks to your wife that I'm alive at all tonight. Otherwise, I might not have survived this. Let her stay in the palace and recover. Once she's stronger, you may bring her home. You have a good wife, Cyrus. See that you treat her well."

Cyrus bowed his head in acceptance, then followed the eunuch to the hall where I was resting.

By the time he arrived, I was already awake, my body weak, my eyes fixed blankly on the canopy above the bed. There was no longer any trace of my child inside me. The kicks, the heartbeat I'd once felt — all of it now felt like nothing more than a dream.

In my last life, I'd died along with my baby, paying with an entire lifetime of devotion for nothing but a miserable end. This time, my child's life had bought me something else — a way out of Cyrus's clutches, a way out of this cage.

I ran my hand slowly over my stomach. It was flat now, and empty. My eyes teared up despite myself.

Footsteps approached, and someone lifted the curtain. I glanced over. It was Cyrus, just as I'd expected.

Only once everyone else had left the room did he speak, brow furrowed. "Why couldn't you have held on a little longer? You knew Marilyn was in trouble. You knew her family had fallen on hard times — so why put on this act of suffering in front of me now? There were assassins tonight. You should have sent for reinforcements instead of charging in yourself..."

Not one word of it was meant to comfort me. Every single line was blame and accusation.

I'd known exactly how this would go, and still, hearing it, my chest ached all over again.

Swallowing the pain, I turned my back to him, my expression closed off. "If Marilyn's in trouble, then go to her. I won't ask about it again. Who knows — maybe one day you'll set me aside for her too, and save us both the trouble."

That stopped him cold. His brow furrowed deeper, his face darkening. "Genevieve, don't take it out on me here."

In his memory, I was always the one throwing fits, always flying into a rage the moment Marilyn's name came up. But now, I sat in silence, as if none of it mattered to me anymore.

My silence only made him more contemptuous. He seemed to decide it was just another ploy for his attention. Still, mindful that I'd just saved the King's life and now basked in his favor, Cyrus softened his tone. "Genevieve, I know I haven't been home enough, and that I've neglected you. I'll make more time for you from now on. All right?"

When I still didn't answer, his irritation flared again, and he left without another word.

The next morning, I woke to find a box of expensive lavender shortbread sitting on the table. A palace maid, seeing me awake, hurried over to help me wash and dress.

As she fixed my hair, she couldn't help herself. "My lady and His Highness truly love each other. That shortbread comes from a shop that's nearly impossible to get into — His Highness must adore you."

I let my gaze drift over the box without a flicker of interest.