Julia pressed her hands to her temples, trying to steady her racing thoughts. Her heart pounded with the memory of her own plan, one she had crafted long before Abel whispered his poison into her ear. She had intended to free herself from Cain's shadow through charm rather than betrayal. Her goal had been Astarius, the 3rd Prince. He was a scholar, quiet and thoughtful, the kind of man who inspired true devotion. Julia had loved him in her own way, not with childish infatuation but with a steady flame that had burned for years. She would have given him everything if he had only asked.
But now that dream felt as distant as the stars. Abel's plan had seemed more efficient, more certain, but the cost of failure was suddenly very real. The duel loomed, and if Cain survived, his vengeance would be merciless. Julia could almost feel his eyes on her already, waiting for her misstep, waiting to tear apart every excuse she might conjure.
