Chapter 6
874 Words
Alistair took her hand, his voice soft as if coaxing a child.
"Do not read too much into this, Josephine. Clarice and I are not what you think. She has never been one to fuss over domestic matters. Once she finds her true match, I will make sure she gets a proper farewell."
Josephine lowered her lashes, hiding the scorn in her gaze.
But what if her true match had always been you?
The words danced on her lips, unspoken, before fading into a silent sigh.
"Clarice often admires your good judgment," he continued, his tone shifting effortlessly. "Naturally, you are the one to oversee this wedding. The twentieth of next month has been deemed fitting. See to the preparations."
The twentieth of next month.
The very date he had once knelt before the King, pledging to crown her as his rightful bride in bridal jewels and crimson gown when the half-year mark arrived.
Now, she would still be the one to drape the red silks, but for his union with another.
If this was his idea of devotion, she wanted no part of it.
"Your Highness." She lifted her eyes, her voice chillingly steady. "Give me the divorce decree. From today onward, you and Lady Clarice may write your tale without my interference."
Alistair's brow furrowed as if she had spat blasphemy.
"Absurd. We are bound by hardship. Demanding separation now would make the Crown Prince's Palace a laughingstock."
With a flick of his sleeve, he strode off without a backward look.
If he denied her a dignified exit, only one path remained.
To feign death and vanish.
The draught that would fake death was nearly impossible to procure. After days of covert searching, she moved like a shadow.
In all this time, Alistair never visited her quarters. Yet whenever she passed Clarice's chambers, laughter tumbled through the windows, bright and unchecked.
"Marry you? I would sooner fly free than rot behind these gilded walls."
"As you wish."
"Then let us lay down some rules. Your Highness, do you know how couples address each other in my hometown? They call each other 'my dear'."
"My dear?"
Every sweet murmur drove her away, her heart clenching with each step.
She had hoped to endure silently until the wedding, but fate intervened. On the very night she secured the draught, Clarice burst in, guards flanking her.
The young maid delivering the medicine was forced to her knees, the rough stone tiles biting into her flesh until they bled.
"Word just broke today of enemy spies in the palace." Clarice's voice was like a blade, her gaze cutting. "What are you passing in the dead of night? Speak. Are you the traitor?"
When Alistair rushed in at the commotion, the girl, barely twelve, wrenched free from the guards with sudden fury.
A flash of defiance lit her eyes as she slipped the hidden draught into her mouth and bit down with a sickening crunch.
"Spit it out, now." Clarice snarled, snatching a blade from a guard's scabbard and pressing it to the girl's throat.
But the girl thrashed wildly. The steel slipped.
Blood gushed forth like a fountain, splattering across Josephine's ghostly pale face.
She stood staring, paralyzed, as that frail body crumpled before her.
"She was just a child." Josephine's voice trembled. Lunging for the fallen sword, she turned on Clarice. "How dare you?"
"Outrageous." Alistair knocked the sword from her grip, his gaze glacial. "Should you not explain yourself? Skulking in the dark, what were you hiding? Or, as Clarice said, are you truly a spy?"
Josephine's burning eyes locked onto his.
"After everything I have done for you, how can you still doubt me?"
For just a heartbeat, uncertainty flickered in Alistair's eyes.
"If Madam Josephine is truly innocent, I would prostrate myself in apology." Clarice's voice was laced with feigned remorse. "But matters of state come first. Better safe than sorry when it comes to traitors. My conscience is clear."
At her words, the last trace of hesitation vanished from Alistair's eyes.
Josephine looked up, tracking every flicker of change in his face with cold precision. To conceal her plan, she struck first, her voice choked with raw anguish.
"You have been so consumed with Lady Clarice that I have become invisible in my own home. They say keeping company with young maidens before their coming of age helps conception. I only wanted a child, something to anchor you to me."
"But since she arrived, I might as well be a ghost in this household. Even summoning a maid requires scheming like a thief in the night. That girl did not deserve to die."
Alistair's expression softened. What threat could some slip of a girl pose?
"Then I have wronged you," he conceded, his tone gentler. "The child's death was unjust. Her family shall be compensated richly. Mourn, but do not dwell."
Josephine's eyes burned crimson as she stared at this man who valued lives worthless as straw, her soul turning to glacial contempt.
Alistair drew her into what should have been a comforting embrace.
"Your birthday approaches. Name your desire. It shall be granted."
She lifted her gaze, cold as a dagger's kiss.
"I want Clarice to pay with her life."
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