Lorraine met the woman's gaze for a fleeting second. Shame coiled in her chest, a bitter sting she couldn't name. She was Leroy's legal wife, bound by vows, yet her heart faltered as if she were the intruder.
Her eyes slid away, settling on him. On her husband.
One glance. That was all she craved. A flicker of recognition after five long years. She had prayed for his safe return, tended his household, built his wealth, and stood in the rain waiting for him.
Just one look to spark hope that he saw her, the woman who waited. Her heart pounded, a fragile drum against the storm within.
The procession marched forward. The woman beside Leroy smirked, leaning close to murmur in his ear. Lorraine's breath caught, her chest tightening. Leroy's gaze remained fixed ahead, cold and unyielding, blind to the crowd, the palace, and her.
She closed her eyes, swallowing the tears that burned to fall. She would not cry. What did it matter if she had waited for years, her heart tethered to his shadow? What did it matter if he spared her no glance or brought another woman to her doorstep?
She did not care.
She did not.
The lie choked her, sharp and raw. Her breath shuddered, pain slicing her heart. She turned to leave, her feet heavy. Why linger here, a fool in the drizzle, chasing a man who did not turn back?
"Your Excellency."
The voice slithered over her, venom cloaked in silk. Lady Elyse, her half-sister, stepped onto the balcony with a predator's grace. Married to Duke Zevran Dravenholt, the King's brother, Elyse was the Empress Dowager's daughter-in-law. Her husband, a diplomat loved by the people, had died in the war two years ago, yet Elyse still wielded her charm like a blade.
Lorraine's teeth clenched. She knew Elyse's game, to twist the knife in her wounds. She had no desire to face it, not today. She moved to depart, her style of Her Royal Highness a faint shield. Vassal state or not, Elyse should have curtsied, but her half-sister, proud and spoiled, scoffed at such rules.
After all, who could make Duke Arvand's favorite daughter do anything against her wishes?
A hand seized Lorraine's arm, firm and unyielding. Elyse's smirk gleamed, her eyes glinting with triumph. "It's improper to leave without excusing yourself, Lorraine," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
Lorraine glanced at the Dowager, then back at Elyse. Her sister thrived on these traps, delighting in her squirming. The noble ladies gasped, their whispers buzzing. Elyse dared to touch the cursed Silent Crown, and they feared for her, their cherished peer.
Lorraine was no timid prey today. She placed her right hand over Elyse's, fingers brushing the hidden flap sewn into her glove. A pinch of white powder dusted Elyse's glove, unseen. Lorraine spread it subtly, then gripped harder, breaking free with a strength that startled Elyse.
Elyse's hand fell, her eyes widening briefly. She masked it with a syrupy smile, turning to the Dowager, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. "I apologize for my crude sister, Your Excellency. My mother and I tried to teach her manners, but she~"
"Enough." The Dowager's voice cut through, sharp as steel. "Lorraine needs no permission to leave. She does as she pleases." Her gaze pierced Elyse. "But you, why are you here? You neglect my grandsons, yet find time to parade for attention like a hussy."
The Dowager's tone, gentle with Lorraine, turned cold with Elyse. Elyse's smile wavered, but she hid it, lifting her powdered hand to cover her mouth.
Lorraine turned away, a spark of satisfaction warming her chest. She descended the stairs, her maid Emma hurrying to her side. Behind her, chaos erupted.
Elyse had collapsed.
Whispers swelled like a tide. The curse of the Silent Crown had struck. Moments after touching Lorraine, Elyse lay unconscious. The crowd's fear was palpable, their murmurs loud enough for Lorraine's hidden ears to catch.
A smirk curved her lips as she strode to her carriage, removing her gloves. The curse about her was not just a rumor. It held weight because she worked for it. This was the first time Elyse fell victim to her, though. It was a mild poison that would cause dizziness for an hour and no long-term consequences.
Elyse should have left her alone, especially today, when her heart bled from Leroy's indifference. Had she stayed, Elyse would have mocked her for something her husband did, savoring Lorraine's pain.
She reached the carriage, where Sir Aldric Varnholt waited. The steward of their household, he was a rare beacon in her shadowed world. His warm smile greeted her, his hand extended with the brotherly affection she cherished.
Lorraine's smile flickered as she reached for him. Before their hands met, another hand, clad in armor, shoved Aldric's aside.
Her breath caught. Her eyes lifted, widening in shock.
There he was…