All Chapters of Forbidden To Love: A Royal Sin : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

It felt strange walking into the palace kitchen again. I hadn’t been here since I was a child trailing after my mother, when the cooks would sneak me sweet pastries and dried fruits. Now, everything looked smaller, quieter, stripped of the warmth I remembered.The servants stiffened when I entered, some bowing, some pretending to be too busy to notice me. I could almost hear their unspoken question—why is the princess here? I ignored it and let my eyes sweep across the rows of shelves, jars, and sacks stacked neatly in order.I remembered my mother’s words: Never drink tea that hasn’t come from your own pot. She had trusted only one maid to brew hers. Yet, the leaves, the herbs… they all came from here.My hand brushed a row of containers. Most were familiar, the same blends I had known since childhood, but a few bore markings I didn’t recognize—freshly delivered, perhaps. I bent closer, studying the labels, tracing the ink as though they might whisper their secrets.Something in me t

walk back to my chamber slowly, the echo of my footsteps chasing me down the empty corridor. My cheeks are still damp, but I don’t bother wiping them. Let them see me as the grieving daughter, the broken sister. That image will serve me well.When the heavy door closes behind me, I finally exhale. My shoulders sag, not from sorrow but from the weight of the performance. I press a hand to my chest, half trembling, half laughing under my breath. I did it.Father bought every word. Gregory… his face was priceless. Shock frozen into silence. That silence will keep him loyal, at least for now. He’ll guard me, not question me.I slip out of my gown and sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the fire. A true Halrion princess — that’s what I promised. Father thinks it means remorse. He thinks it means I will be his dutiful daughter. But I know better.It means strength. Ruthlessness and victory.And tonight, I proved I can weep like the guilty… while plotting like the innocent never could.As

I slip the note into the folds of my gown and retreat to my chamber as though nothing is amiss. Once inside, I lock the door and bring it out again, laying it flat on my table. The handwriting stares back at me, dark, angry strokes pressed too hard into the paper. Whoever wrote this did not wish the queen well, that much is clear. To call her throne “gilded,” to speak with such venom… it reeks of envy. Or worse, resentment that had festered long enough to turn deadly.I decide not to show this note to anyone. Not Lina, not even the king. And certainly not Gregory. Once, I would have run to him with it, shared my suspicions, asked for his thoughts. But things are different now. Since that night of my shameful breakdown, the raw promise I made before the king, I’ve kept my word. I have not spoken to Gregory, not picked his calls, not answered his texts.But I’ve seen the way it eats at him. The hollowness in his eyes during dinner, the way his gaze lingers on me, begging for a glance I

By the following evening, my restlessness has not eased. I decide to take a walk through the quieter paths of the palace, hoping I might by chance run into Amira, Lady Julia’s maid. If anyone could offer me a glimpse into that woman’s heart, it would be her. But Amira is nowhere in sight.My steps slow, curiosity tugging me further along the deserted passage that leads toward Lady Julia’s quarters. The silence there is different; thicker, heavier. I move closer, careful, each breath measured as though the walls themselves might betray me.Through a narrow window, the soft glow of lamplight spills into the dusk. I peer inside and freeze.Lady Julia sits across from her son, Kian. A decanter rests between them, two glasses raised. They are laughing, voices muffled yet bright, as though the air carried no grief. Their faces are lit with ease, with joy.I grip the stone frame tighter. Why are they so happy, so untroubled, when the rest of the palace still mourns the queen’s death? Are the

The next morning, I tell myself I need a distraction. Gregory’s words still sit heavy in my chest, and I didn't really have a good sleep. So I throw my mind into the queen’s murder.Again and again, my thoughts circle back to Lady Julia and her son. I keep seeing them as I saw them last night; laughing together, celebrating in their chamber. The image leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.Then something sparks. I remember what Lina told me a few days ago, that she saw Lady Julia in the kitchen, which almost never happens, and she was complaining about her tea. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. But now… now it pulls at me.Without wasting more time, I head to the kitchen.The smell of broth and roasted meat fills the air as I step inside. The chefs bow slightly. “Princess,” one greets.I keep my tone light. “I heard Lady Julia has been particular about her tea lately.”One of the chefs, a tall man with flour dust on his sleeves, nods. “Yes, Princess. She bought her own tea. Said she