Chapter 1
The King, nearing fifty years and unwilling to let go of his lust for beauty and control, summoned noble maidens under the guise of forming a new court.
My mother, Lady Margaret, replaced my cousin’s name with mine on the registry.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she clutched my hands. “Beatrice is too delicate for court life–too soft–hearted, not nearly as clever as you. I’ve arranged it all. Attend the selection, lep your head down, and you won’t be chosen. Then William and I will bring you home before nightfall.”
In my past life, 1 believed her.
But after standing among the girls and being passed over, I wasn’t sent home. I was left behind–forgotten, discarded like a pawn no longer needed.
I remained at court as a chambermaid. By day, I labored in silence; by night, I wept in secret. Three years later, when I finally returned to Hawthorne Manor, battered and hollow, I arrived just in time to see Beatrice inarrying the man who had once been promised to me–Lord Edmund.
My mother met me at the gates, her face twisted with contempt. “This is your cousin’s wedding day. Have you truly sunk so low as to ruin it out of spire?”
I was cast out. No name, no shelter. I wandered the streets until fever and hunger took me.
Now, reborn, I found myself standing once again in that cursed parlor, the same question ringing in my ears,
“Eleanor, would you be so good as to take Beatrice’s place at court?”
Very well,”
“I said coolly, my voice cutting through the room like a blade.
Stunned silence fell.
Mother blinked. “You… you mean that?**
My younger brother William narrowed his eyes. “You’re suddenly that noble?”
Ilept my gaze lowered, voice calm. “If you think me untrustworthy, I’m just as happy to stay behind.”
Mother rushed to mend the moment. “Oh, Eleanor, don’t mind your brother’s jests: If Beatrice had half your wit, we’d not ask this of you.”
“You’re a sensible girl. It’s late. Best get some rest.
They left, and the chamber quieted.
1 moved to the window and opened it slowly. Below, near the rear passage where the scullery maids usually came and went, I spotted four figures in servant’s garb–faces I did not know, performing tasks no one had asked for. Spies, every one of them.
I smiled coldly. Hefusal was never an option.
În nay first lito, I had refused. Why wouldn’t I? I was engaged to Lord Edmund, our betrothal set to be sealed within the season. What purpose had I in parading before a dying king?
-But the next morning, word spread like wildfire–Beatrice had flung herself into the lake. She was rescued, barely breathing.
William burst into my chambers, kicking down the door, not even pausing at the sight of me half–dressed. He dragged me into the courtyard by the wrist, shouting loud enough for the entire household to hear.
“Are you trying to kill dier?”
Even Mother, who had never cried a day in her life, wept before the household. “Her father died saving you. You swore to protect her when she us. And now you repay her with cruelty?”
Their words struck like arrows to the heart.
cante
Since I was seven, I’d been told the tale over and over–how Beatrice’s father did shielding me from a falling bean during a fine. How, bound by dury and debt, the Hawthorne family topic in his orphaned daughter from York. How I was to love her, protect her, defer to her in all things
And so I did.
The honeyed taris William suck back from the city fair? Always given to her. The lace–trimmed linen gowns my mother commissioned from the seunstress? Hers. The finest dresses, the heirloom jewels, even the kind words of visiting lords–all placed before Beatrice, as if I were no more than her
shadow.
Evey during those three cold years I scrubbed stone floors at court and slept among rats, I never betrayed the truth.
Never told a soul whose secret it truly was.
Chopper 1
GoodShort
But not this time. Bot no
I clenched my fists. I would not be fooled again
Sleep never came that night.
The following day, Mother sent me damask silk in shades of royal blue and a set of sapphire jewels “to ease the burden of the court journey.”
A young mald held the cloth to her cheek and whispered, “My lady, your mother must love you dearly. Even Lady Beatrice has nothing like this.”
I offered a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Beatrice doesn’t need them. She already has everything
The day of the court audience arrived.
In my last life, I called my appearance–pale face, plain dress, hair tucked back–trying to be overlooked. This time, I stood with pride, wearing the silks I’d been given. My hair was nearly braked, my chin lifted.
We gathered at the gates of Highcourt Palace. Some girls clutched each other, sobbing quietly. Others stood stiff, eyes blank with dread
We all knew what walted inside. The King, aged and half–mad, sought beauty for his fading pleasure garden. His favorite courtier, Sir Julian of Riverton, handpicked the candidates.
The crimson gates groaned open.
Sir Julian appeared in a rallored black doublet, riding boots polished, his posture as sharp as the blade on his hip. He stood tall, a picture of grace and
command.
When his eyes met mine, something stirred inside me
In
my former life, this man–rumored to be ruthless and cunning–was the only soul who ever showed me a shred of landness,
I passed him with the others, saying nothing
- But just as we crossed the inner gare, I turned for a single glance back
So it begins again, I thought. But not as before.
This time, I would not be the one left behind.
