The Wretched Prince

My father's hand shook, and tea sloshed out of his cup, soaking the painting laid out in front of him.

He didn't spare it a glance. Instead, his eyes went wide. "Do you mean that?"

I clenched my fists inside my sleeves. "I only have one request. On my wedding day, the eighty-eight chests of wedding gifts my mother left me will have to be returned to me as well."

Arthur Knight nodded before I'd even finished, though he couldn't resist adding, "Men and women should keep their distance, of course. Once you're married, you and that guard of yours..."

"I don't want him anymore."

I stepped over the threshold and repeated myself, as much for my own benefit as his.

"I never want to see him again."

The setting sun bled red across the horizon, like a wound that wouldn't close. I stood beneath the eaves and looked back at my father.

He was busy celebrating. He'd just solved the Crown Prince problem for his precious concubine's daughter, and it had put him in far too good a mood to ask where his own daughter had disappeared to for three days.

If he'd cared even a little, he would have noticed my torn sleeves and my blood-soaked shoes.

By now, I could no longer pretend otherwise. My father and the man I loved both loved the same woman. And that woman had never been me.

I dragged myself, bruised and battered, back to my quarters.

My maid, Rose Anders, cried as she dressed my wounds. "My Lady, where have you been all this time? You scared me half to death...

"You missed the whole flower banquet, and that little upstart got to steal the spotlight. Who would've guessed she had it in her to write a poem like that, when she's never shown a hint of talent before."

I lowered my eyes and said nothing.

I was thinking about the conversation I'd overheard between Julius and his men.

"Your Highness, the Lady Elizabeth really is the finest lady in Kingsmere. Even you can't deny she has a gift for words, and yet you stole her poems and gave them to Lady Melanie to pass off as her own."

Julius had scoffed. "She's decent enough with a pen, I suppose, but it's nothing special. She isn't fit to hold a candle to my Melanie. If those poems catch Melanie's eye, she should count herself lucky they were ever written."

He was the Prince, and to get close to a concubine's daughter, he had lowered himself to play bodyguard at my side. He'd even stooped to theft.

Julius... Was this what love looked like to him?

While I was still lost in thought, Melanie swept in, holding up the hem of her skirt.

"My, what happened to you, sister? Don't tell me you were out rolling around in the hills with some strange man and wore yourself out."

She was riding high these days, so pleased with herself that she'd forgotten her manners. She'd even piled her hair with jewels.

"Everyone in Kingsmere knows by now. The eldest young lady of the Knight family can't keep to her place, carrying on with men outside the family..."

Before she could finish, Rose slapped her hard across the face.

"How dare you! You're nothing but a concubine's daughter, and you'd speak to Lady Elizabeth with such disrespect?"

Melanie stumbled backward and fell into a pair of warm, broad arms. I looked up to meet Julius's eyes, cold as ice.

Those dark eyes were full of murder. They slid past me and fixed on Rose, as if he meant to lunge at her and slit her throat the next second.

"My Lady..."

Rose flinched back a few steps in fear. I caught her by the arm.

Watching Julius's hands settle around Melanie's waist, I couldn't help a bitter little laugh.