Chapter 1
734 Words
In the shadowed halls of the royal palace, everyone whispered about the Seventh Prince Alistair Sinclair's undying devotion to the maid Josephine Beaumont.
He had sworn on his life that if he ever claimed the Crown Prince's palace, she would be his crown princess.
The moment he first stood before the King, his very first plea was for her hand in marriage.
Though he knew his lowborn mother's disgrace still stained him, he defiantly sought to wed a mere servant, setting the court ablaze with outrage.
Back then, his world held no one but her.
But then, upon his coronation as Crown Prince, he brought home Clarice Darcy, a woman from another world.
Spouting bizarre tales of equality for all, she effortlessly charmed every servant in the household.
On her first day, she brazenly handed out all the jewels Alistair had gifted Josephine over the years, even their most precious love tokens, to the staff.
"What is mine is yours," she declared. "Under this roof, we are family."
Josephine's eyes welled up, hot with fury.
Beside her, Alistair looked straight through her.
In their darkest days, when starvation gnawed at their bones, he had forbidden her to sell even a single trinket, those sacred keepsakes of their love.
Now, he let Clarice toss them away like scraps.
When Josephine turned her tear-filled eyes to him, he said coolly,
"Clarice is right. This is how you win loyalty. As future mistress here, you must set the example."
Then came the ambush.
Josephine threw herself before Alistair. An arrow buried itself in her chest.
In the chaos, a guard bled out while shielding his master.
With only one life-saving remedy left, Clarice spoke up.
"Does a guard's life matter any less? Without this, he will lose his hand. But Madam Josephine is too far gone. This might not save her."
She coaxed Alistair's hand into hers.
"Your Highness knows which choice wins the people's hearts."
Josephine watched, numb, as the remedy at her lips vanished into his palm.
Silent tears carved tracks down her cheeks. He met her gaze, icy.
"Clarice is right. The tide of public favor can crown or crush a king. You know what I have sacrificed. Whether you live, leave it to the heavens."
He turned away with Clarice, his murmur trailing behind.
"Always so clever, Clarice. You lift my burdens when it counts."
Their retreating figures made her heart split open, a pain deeper than the arrow's bite.
A deathly chill crept into her limbs as life trickled through her fingers.
In her fading mind, she saw the years before Clarice came, when Alistair was the palace's punching bag.
He was scorned by the King for his servant-born mother and tormented by every courtier.
She had stolen scraps to drag him back from death's door.
On her last breath, his mother had pressed his fate into Josephine's palms.
She taught him how to conduct himself with grace before the King, how to win royal favor, and how to survive in this ruthless court that devoured the weak.
When he knelt before the throne to request her hand, she gasped in panic.
"Have you lost your mind? After finally earning His Majesty's regard, you would throw it all away?"
His gaze softened as he reached for her hand.
"I know what is at stake, Josephine. But I swore to you, so listen carefully. If I become Crown Prince, you will be my princess. If I ascend the throne, you will be my Queen. For now, I can only offer you the humble title of my mistress."
The King's wrath came down in brutal blows that day, leaving him battered and bloodied. Though cast aside once more, he never once regretted his choice.
Through sheer determination, he eventually wrung a reluctant concession from the King.
"Youthful recklessness. If in six months you still insist, I shall allow it."
But before those months passed, Alistair brought Clarice to the Crown Prince's palace.
The moment that woman saw Josephine, she gave her a brazen once-over, her eyes crawling from head to toe with open disdain that made Josephine's fingers curl into her sleeves.
"Well, well," she purred, her lips twisting into a smirk.
"So you are Alistair's little mistress?" Her voice oozed mocking delight.
"They say you have staked your whole worthless life on a man's favor." She let out a little humph of amusement.
- Writer
