Chapter 4
803 Words
Alistair's wine glass froze halfway to his lips. Though his lips still curved in a smile, a glint of unease flickered in his eyes.
"The six-month deadline has not passed," he said smoothly. "The kingdom's affairs come first for now."
Such an obvious evasion immediately sent whispers rippling through the banquet hall.
Sharp-eyed ministers exchanged knowing glances.
"It seems His Highness's heart belongs to that Lady Clarice," one muttered behind his hand.
A smug grin tugged at Clarice's lips. Feigning nonchalance, she declared,
"The Crown Prince and I are sworn brothers, thick as thieves. Not like some people."
She shot a sidelong glance at Josephine.
"Obsessing over lovey-dovey nonsense, tying their whole worth to a man's favor."
The guests' eyes darted between the two women like bystanders at a showdown, weighing who held more sway.
Yet Alistair remained silent, letting the silent barbs shred Josephine's dignity, piece by merciless piece.
Finally, Josephine could endure no more. She strode from the banquet, her composure crumbling.
Pale moonlight glazed the pond in the rear garden as she stood trembling in the wind. With a shuddering breath, she hurled the embroidered sachet she had clutched for hours into the dark water.
As the silk sank, the ripples blurred into visions of a prince who had once turned to ice at the slightest insult to her.
That Alistair would never have tolerated being called mere brothers. Yet now he spouted this equality drivel.
But that was then. Now, even his heart had turned.
Just as Josephine turned to leave, Clarice's saccharine voice purred behind her.
"Madam Josephine, you are not mad at me, are you?" Her voice oozed fake sweetness. "I never meant to upstage you. If I made you jealous, here is my apology. Honestly, bickering over a man? How pathetic."
Josephine spun on her heel, her piercing gaze locking onto Clarice's carefully crafted innocent face. A chill shot through her, sharp as a blade of ice.
"Cut the act," she snapped, her voice laced with frosty venom. "I see right through you. Whatever you do with His Highness is your business, but drop this fake innocence around me. It is revolting."
She turned to leave, but Clarice's voice hounded her, sticky as syrup.
"Oh? But what if His Highness chooses to dote on me?"
The taunt still hung in the air when a blood-curdling scream tore through the night, followed by a deafening splash.
Josephine whirled around in shock. There, flailing in the pond's freezing depths, was Clarice, shrieking for help.
"Guards! Someone save her, now!"
Alistair's furious shout rang out behind her. He did not even glance at the scene before charging forward, his eyes blazing with unprecedented rage. Every syllable cut deeper than a blade.
"Josephine! When did you become so cruel? She has done nothing but help me with her wise advice, and you would try to kill her over childish envy?!"
Josephine stood rooted to the spot, staring at this stranger who wore her beloved's face. Her vision swam with tears she refused to shed.
After all their years together, he had never once raised his voice at her.
Now, for another woman, he had called her a murderer without proof.
"I did not push her."
Her voice trembled, yet she stood tall and unyielding.
"She jumped in herself. Your Highness, you know how I operate. If I truly wanted to harm her, would I use such a crude tactic?"
Alistair's eyes blazed even fiercer.
"To shove her into freezing waters in midwinter? When did your heart turn so cruel? Is this about her taking the fuel for your fire?"
Josephine let out a hollow, mirthless laugh, dripping with bitterness.
"Your Highness, do you know why I have never touched her? Only because I could not bear to hurt you. Yet you keep breaking my heart without mercy."
Her gaze snapped up, her eyes glinting like broken glass, her mouth twisting into a bitter smirk.
"Yes, I pushed her. Since Lady Clarice enjoys so much fuel for her hearth, let her cool off as she suggested. It is good for her health and the royal treasury."
"You!" Alistair choked, his outstretched hand trembling violently.
Josephine stepped forward, each word weighted with finality.
"If my face offends you, just say you never want to see me again, or grant me my freedom. I, Josephine, swear on my honor I will vanish. Otherwise, treat me with the respect I have earned."
A film of tears shimmered in her eyes as she whispered,
"Remember when your headaches came? You would cling to my hand through the night, sobbing 'Madam Josephine, without you I would die alone in pain.' Now you call my handmade sachets unfit for display."
Alistair froze, a shadow of remorse crossing his face as his lips parted.
"Alistair, I am freezing."
- Writer
