Chapter 3

The blade came up level with my throat.

"You poisoned her cosmetics. You did this to Lina's face."

I blinked at him, then let out a slow breath of a laugh.

"Those were tribute shipments from the other provinces. I distributed them to every woman in the palace — every single one. If Lina alone was harmed, I genuinely don't know why."

Layne didn't move the sword back.

"Don't play innocent. You're the only one in this palace who can't stand her."

The hand gripping the hilt was shaking. His eyes were red.

"You have everything. She isn't even Sera. Why would you destroy someone who never did a thing to you?"

I looked at his face — contorted, righteous — and I laughed again.

"You're right, I have everything. So why would I bother? Surely you don't still think I care about whatever scraps of love you two have to offer."

Layne had grown up with me at his heels. He was used to me fighting for his attention, bleeding for him, burning with jealousy over every slight.

My indifference broke something in him.

"You're jealous that she gets what you never could — from me, from Caelian, from everyone!"

"A skinbinder in the city says all it takes is one good layer of skin. If Lina's ruined face is your doing, then her restoration is your debt."

He turned the blade and drove it forward.

A hand caught it bare — fingers wrapped around the edge, blood running down the steel.

"Your Majesty—"

Lina was already at Caelian's side, her voice shaking, her veil shifting.

"Are you hurt? Someone send for the physician, now—"

Layne's sword clattered to the floor. He dropped to one knee.

Caelian turned slowly and looked at me. His expression was something I couldn't name.

"Was it you, Elara?"

I met the expectation in his eyes.

"No."

He read the coldness in my answer — not denial, just absolute indifference.

Lina had begun to cry nearby, soft and continuous.

"It's my fault for being born this way. Of course Her Majesty finds the sight of me offensive. She has every right."

Then she looked at me through her tears. "If I trouble you, I'll stay far from your sight. Please don't let me come between you and your brother, or you and His Majesty."

Predictably, Layne was on his feet in an instant, finger pointed at my face.

"You hear that? You hear how she speaks? Even now she defends you. What kind of person are you?"

Caelian looked at me for a long moment. Then: "Apologize."

"No."

"Then I'll have Ash dragged out and flogged until you do."

The room lurched.

Caelian's face had gone to stone, looking at me the way one looks at someone they've never met.

"You've grown too comfortable since your return. Today I'll remind you of your place — and remind you who it is that holds it."

The guards pulled Ash from the room. Sounds came through the wall almost immediately.

"My lady — I'm all right — don't apologize — you did nothing wrong—"

Each sound landed like something against the inside of my chest.

I broke. My knees hit the floor, and I pressed my forehead down again and again.

"I was wrong, I apologize, please, let her go, please—"

Layne made a contemptuous sound.

"Groveling on the floor for a servant. You're no daughter of this family."

Caelian had gone very still.

He had held me, praised me, tried every approach to reach me — and I had given him nothing. Yet one servant's life brought me to the floor, bleeding at the forehead, begging.

Something wounded moved through his voice. "Elara. Am I worth less to you than a handmaid?"

I didn't answer. I kept going.

Then a guard stepped back inside.

"My lord. She's gone."