Jennifer Wilder stumbled into her lavish bedroom, the remnants of another failed evening spent waiting for King Cassian gnawing at her.
Her reflection in the mirror mocked her—disheveled blonde hair, smudged eyeliner, and the faint lines around her eyes that she couldn't quite hide anymore. She grabbed the nearly empty bottle of wine from the dresser, swallowing the last sip and throwing the bottle to the floor with a frustrated cry.
"Why?!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the ornate walls. "Why does he treat me like this? I was supposed to be queen! Me, not her!"
Her mind spun with bitter thoughts of Isadora—the woman Cassian had married, not for love, but for political convenience.
Well that's what he had said. I was still his queen. But now he treated me worse than a mistress.
