Chapter 3
Edmund donned a coarse woolen tunic and leather boots, his hair a wild tangle. Papers signed, token left behind, he strode out of the princess’s estate with purpose, the heavy gates clanging shut behind him.
Camille let out a long breath. ‘Good riddance to that headache.
Luciana smirked, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Send a couple of guys to keep an eye on him. Where’s he off to now?”
No money, no place to crash–where could he even go? Juliette, maybe? It wouldn’t shock her. Juliette had sworn she’d have his back.
Camille hesitated, then tossed out, “My lady, how about Donovan for the job?”
Donovan Reed was her captain of the guard.
“Wait, where is he?” Luciana asked. If Donovan were around, Edmund wouldn’t have gotten away with half his nonsense.
Camille raised an eyebrow. “You forgot? He’s in the dungeon, doing his time.”
‘Oh, right.’ She had forgotten.
Luciana ran her estate like a well–oiled machine–everything in its place, inside and out. It could make her seem cold, even harsh.
Donovan, loyal to a fault, was always taking the heat for his men. He’d landed in hot water again a few days ago and was still paying the price.
“Let him out,” Luciana said, shaking her head with a twinge of regret. “But send someone else to tail Edmund. Donovan needs to rest up.”
She sighed, bummed. She’d been itching to see her baby–faced captain.
Edmund stood before the closed gates of the princess’s estate, his heart heavy with old wounds.
In his old life, he’d scraped by here, humiliated daily. Luciana hadn’t starved him or left him wanting, but all his pain led back to her.
Now, he was free. And he was going to find Juliette.
The king had granted two princesses their own estates and titles. Juliette was Princess of Camoy, her manor halfway across the city.
In his flimsy boots, Edmund trudged on, each step heavier than the last.
Juliette knew him. They’d met at Lord Chancellor Norman Ingram, with Luciana there too.
Juliette had visited Luciana’s estate twice since, and their eyes had locked both times. She’d wanted to whisk him away, he was sure–only Luciana, scheming as ever, had stood in the way.
After days of treading on fine velvet, the coarse leather boots chafed Edmund’s feet raw. He slowed, then began to hobble.
The two men Camille sent to shadow him bit back their laughter.
‘Why’s he making life so tough on himself? they thought.
After what felt like ages, Edmund reached Juliette’s estate. He knocked on the gate. Nothing.
He pounded harder. Finally, it creaked open, and before he could speak, a servant’s boot sent him sprawling. “Begging at the princess’s gate
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Chapter 3
in the dead of night?” the servant snapped. “You got no brains?”
Edmund scrambled up, fuming. “I’m no beggarl I’m here for Princess Juliette.”
The servant shorted. “Sure you are.”
The gate slammed shut.
A beggar demanding the princess? Madness,‘ the servant thought.
Edmund cursed Luciana under his breath. She’d dressed him in these rags on purpose, setting him up to be mocked.
He took a deep breath, knocked again, and softened his tone. If he could just get word to Juliette, she’d see him. She’d help, maybe even give him a place to stay.
The gate opened, and the servant glared. “Keep this up, and I’ll call the guards. You’ll be lucky to walk away.”
“I’m not a beggar,” Edmund begged. “I just left Princess of Latymer’s estate. My name’s Edmund. Princess Juliette knows me. Please, just tell her.”
The servant eyed him, lip curled in disgust. “The princess? Know you?”
Edmund nodded desperately. “She does! Just pass the word, and she’ll see me.”
The servant pointed at the moon overhead. “You know what time it is?”
The gate clanged shut, loud enough to wake the dead. Lucky for Edmund, the servant was in a decent mood, or he might’ve caught a thrashing.
Edmund let out a weary sigh. ‘Bet Juliette’s out cold by now. Alright, I’ll hold off ‘til morning. One night won’t do me in.’
He slumped against the wall, the cold night breeze and pale moonlight his only company. He dreamed of a new life–always near Juliette, keeping others at bay.
In his old life, by the time he’d cleared his name, Juliette had been surrounded.
He’d fought to get close but never could. This time, he’d make sure no one else got in his way.
The two men tailing him saw he wasn’t moving and headed back to report.
“My lady,” one said, “Edmund’s camped out at Princess Juliette’s gate. Looks like he’s waiting for dawn.”
Luciana grinned. “Keep tabs on him. Camille, remind me to stop by the chancellor’s estate tomorrow. I need to show my grandfather this
letter before someone spins a story.”
Edmund was the first snake she’d spotted. Were the others, too, plucked from the threads of time? She’d find out.
“My lady.” Donovan’s soft voice came as he stepped in, moving slowly to thank her for his release.
His boyish face, still soft with a touch of baby fat, looked pale, his eyes hinting at a sulky pout.
Luciana could hardly contain herself. ‘This is my captain of the guard? Way too adorable!‘
She waved him over, trying to play it cool. “Come closer.”
Donovan obeyed, kneeling before her, gazing up with wide, glistening eyes that sparkled like dew.
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‘How’s this guy supposed to lead my guards?‘ she wondered to herself.
Unable to resist, Luciana pinched his chubby cheek. Donovan looked away, his face turning bright red.
This was the kind of man worth keeping–loyal, grateful, and sweet as pie.
She let go, then noticed the blood staining his shirt. “You haven’t patched up your wounds?”
Donovan’s voice was soft. “Wanted to see you first, my lady.”
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“You’re too good,” Luciana said, helping him up. “Go get cleaned up. Take care of yourself.”
“Thank you,” Donovan murmured, still blushing.
As he left, he could still feel the cool touch of her fingers on his cheek. He turned to a servant. “It’s chilly tonight. Get the princess a shawl and some hot water.”
Camille called someone to tend to Luciana, then turned to Donovan. “That Faulkner guy you hate? Princess Luciana gave him the boot.”
“I heard,” Donovan said, tilting his head with a smile that was pure ice. “He shoved the princess. Why’s he still breathing?”
His sweet face didn’t match the venom in his words.
Camille’s lips curled into a wry smirk. “Princess Luciana called you ‘good.’ Pfft, what a laugh.”
‘Even a princess can get it wrong sometimes,‘ she thought.
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