Marguerite, the former Duchess of Torrinni, receives two letters that will change the course of her life forever; and that will impact young Céleste Richel's life too, in more ways than one.
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When Marguerite is forced to return to Torrinni cour...
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No matter the padding protecting her knees, Marguerite ached. With every second that her silky skirts scraped against the pebbles, and every instant her fists pounded on the ground, she was in agony. Stuck in a nightmare with no way to escape, with Antoine's words repeating over and over, crippling her soul.
Promised to Duke Cornelius Schwartz of Terter. Promised to a Giromian.
Of course Clémentine would use her in her manipulations. Make a deal with a foreign King which, if broken, would lead to a war Totresia had been avoiding for centuries. Of course Clémentine would allow Marguerite at court again, at Adelaide's behest. But did Adelaide's idea coincidentallyalign with Clémentine's deep-rooted designs? Or were they actual associates in this mess?
Clémentine the cruel, Clémentine the conniving witch.
A warm hand wrapped around her exposed wrist and lifted her up.
Antoine's proximity conjured images that haunted Marguerite and her dizzy trance broke.
One look at him chilled her, reanimated his mother's cackling in her mind. A single glimpse of his jawline and cheek-bones, so like hers, made Marguerite's temples throb.
She pulled out of his grasp, wobbling backwards. He reached out to halt her from falling, fingertips outstretched. "Be careful—"
"—no." She stabilized on her own and brushed off her gown. Dirt dropped from the fabric, but a few grassy stains remained. Her arms were numb, and her fingers tingled, like ants were crawling up and down and bitingher. "Do not touch me. Not now. Not you."
Clémentine the sneak, Clémentine the traitor.
Antoine was about to speak, but a door creaked open; the King's Corridor exit.
As he turned to it, Marguerite followed—and a forest-green clad Sébastien stood in the threshold, fists on his hips.
"What is going on here?" His chocolate gaze zoned in on Marguerite's dusty petticoat as he strode down the path to them. He glared at Antoine, taking in his crooked crown, his untucked shirt, and scruffy coat. "What did you do?"
"I did nothing. I know what this looks like, but we—"
"—you what?" The middle Prince's expression swirled with fire, and his lips were so thin it was as if they'd been sucked into his mouth. "You snuck out here to what?"
Marguerite appreciated Sébastien's concern, but for once, Antoine wasn'tresponsible for how she shivered, for the panic plaguing her heart.
"He tells the truth. He... we..." Her lower lip quivered as the words lingered in the back of her throat. "He was telling me of dire news. About me, and..."
She bit her tongue and swerved away. Saying it out loud was too real, too brutal.
Antoine did so for her. "I discovered Mother's newest plot. Or her biggest, perhaps. She will annul my marriage to Adelaide, gift her to Romain, push for the vote to remove me, put Jules in my place. And ship Maggie off to Giroma with that disgustingDuke once she receives a new Duchess title."
