All Chapters of Twice Was She Forsaken: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Just as Theron's hands reached to tear her clothes, Vionna shoved him back with all her strength and bolted from the tent."Viona Vale! What are you doing out here? How's Lord Theron?"His personal guards stood around the command tent, eyes sharp with concern.Vionna clutched her torn clothes close. Luckily, the northern winter had her wrapped in thick layers."He's not doing well. Regular treatment won't work. Fetch Commander Morwynne—now."Several soldiers barked back."If it's that serious, why'd you leave? Calling someone else now just wastes time.""If something happens to Lord Theron, can a lowly physician like you take the blame?"She didn't flinch.Someone had already gone for Marzella. She arrived moments later, dismounting in one fluid motion, dressed in riding leathers.She stopped in front of Vionna, eyes narrowed."Viona Vale, what game is this? You clawed your way into Theron's tent to marry into power. Now, with the chance in your lap, you call for me instead?

Vionna returned to the tent she'd first been given when she arrived.A single cot, the sharp stench of herbs, and bloodied bandages heaped in the corners.She remembered how she'd loathed it once—how she'd begged Theron for days before he let her move closer to him.Now, standing in it again, her feelings had changed.It was still small. Still miserable.But better than the place she died last time.At least here, she wouldn't freeze alone in the snow.***In the days that followed, Vionna began handing off her patients. Each morning, she left with the herb cart. Each night, she returned late.Waiting. Just waiting for Elsha to come and take her home.The camp buzzed with joy.Everywhere she turned, someone was praising Theron's devotion. How he'd chosen the nearest auspicious date—just a month away—to marry Marzella.Still, the wedding would be grand.Whispers spread fast: House Morwynne's dowry was lacking, so Theron had opened his vault. Sent 108 treasure chests to her

The blow knocked Vionna to the ground.Pain bloomed fast—her cheek swelling, blood coating her tongue.She reached up with shaking fingers. The moment they grazed the welt, her eyes flooded.Theron had never struck her before. Not in this life. Not in the last.She looked up, but tears blurred everything—just his shadow standing over her."My gods... Viona Vale is Princess Vionna?""What's she doing in a border camp?""I heard she chased Lord Theron for years. He was doing fine in Crownspire—until her obsession drove him out.""If she's truly Princess Vionna... doesn't that make him her uncle? The king's sworn brother and all?""A disgrace to the royal house, that's what."The voices crept from every corner, sharp as thorns.It felt just like her wedding day in the life before.No blessings then, either.Only sneers.They said she drugged him. Said she married Theron pregnant and proud.That she trampled every rule, throwing herself at the man her father called brother.

Theron lunged the instant the rope gave way.His hand reached—too late.Fabric grazed his palm, then slipped free.She vanished like a night flower snuffed out at dawn.Her hair fluttered before disappearing into the mist-shrouded gorge.The moment Vionna vanished, something in his chest stopped. Breath. Pulse. Gone.The girl he'd raised was gone.No footsteps behind him now. No bold voice calling his name.He'd let her go.He'd chosen.For one breathless second, he nearly followed her over the edge."Theron! Are you mad? That's a sheer drop—what about me? Our baby?"Arms seized him from behind.He froze.Marzella clung to him, face streaked with tears.His pulse dragged itself back to life. He pulled her close, voice raw. "I'm sorry..."She pressed her face into his chest, weeping softly. "I understand. She was your princess. Of course it hurts... I get it."The words sliced deeper.Yes. Vionna had grown up beneath his roof in Crownspire.How had he let it come to t

Theron hadn't expected three days to pass without a single word.At least it meant his training hadn't failed.The guards he'd handpicked for his northern estate were solid—hard-boned, disciplined, loyal.Or so he believed.He hadn't accounted for betrayal from within.This time, Theron didn't step into the tent.He only raised a hand.Four were dragged out.The Wildfolk couldn't have slipped in and out without someone's help. Someone under his roof.And if no one talked, then he'd find proof another way.Traces always surfaced—eventually.Over the past three days, Theron hadn't relied on torture alone.He'd ordered a full sweep—every servant, every guard, anyone tied to his estate.These four stood out.All on duty during the same shift. Too neat. Too timed.And worse—quiet shifts in their families' fortunes.Gambling debts paid. Fine fabric purchased. A little more food on the table.Hidden well. But not well enough to escape the kind of digging Theron demanded.The