Scarlett paced the length of her bedroom, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and her eyes burned with a mix of fury and frustration. The words she’d overheard from Former King Alfred replayed in her mind, each syllable like a dagger to her pride.
“Manage the situation,” she muttered bitterly, her voice trembling with anger. “As if I’m some common problem to be dealt with.”
She stopped in front of the gilded mirror, staring at her reflection. Her beauty was undeniable—her long, raven-black hair fell in perfect waves, her crimson gown hugged her curves, and her lips, painted a deep red, were curled in a scowl. But beauty alone wouldn’t secure her future. She needed a plan.
Scarlett slammed her hands onto the vanity, rattling the perf
