I was a queen for three years, and a Queen Dowager for twenty. When I died, I was surrounded by my children and grandchildren, and the lords of the court wept at my funeral. By all accounts, a life such as mine should have held no regrets. And yet, when I was granted a second life, and my grandmother asked me who I would choose for a husband, I did not choose the Crown Prince again. Instead, I chose the Duke who guarded the Northern Marches. Let the north be the north, and the capital be the capital. My only wish was that our paths would never cross again. 1 In the Willow Courtyard, the air was so still you could hear a pin drop. Tendrils of frankincense smoke rose from a bronze censer, blurring my grandmother’s sharp, assessing gaze. She studied me from head to toe, as if trying to see straight through to my soul. “You have always favored the Prince,” she said, her voice a low command. “Why not choose him?” I knelt on the cold stone floor, my voice steady. “It is precisely because I favor him, Grandmother, that I cannot marry him.” “I will not break my own heart, waiting for a man who will never truly return to me. I will not let my spirit wither. I beg you to grant my wish.” A long silence stretched, and my legs began to ache from kneeling. Finally, I heard my grandmother let out a long sigh, her voice softening. “Very well. I shall go to the palace tomorrow and inform His Majesty. I will ask him to decree the marriage for you.” I bowed my head to the floor, my forehead touching the cool stone in a final gesture of gratitude. In this life, I would not marry Prince Apollo again. 2 Two days later, the King’s Road was as bustling as ever, the streets thronged with people. I had gone out for my usual errands when my carriage was blocked by the Prince himself, riding out from the palace. He reined in his warhorse and leapt from the saddle, the motion as fluid and graceful as a dancer’s. He was, as always, devastatingly handsome. But his brow was furrowed in a deep scowl, and when he spoke, his voice was ice. “I heard you begged the King for a betrothal. Are you that desperate, Seraphina?” His cold, dismissive gaze stung my eyes. I turned my head slightly, avoiding his stare. “Rest assured, Your Highness,” I said softly. “The marriage has nothing to do with you.” His face grew even darker. He let out a chilling sneer. “Nothing to do with me? I am the one who held you, who saved you. Who else would have you now? Had I known you would be so clinging, I would have left you to the bandits all those years ago.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady my voice. “Your Highness, please do not be angry. It is truly not—” “Enough!” he snapped, cutting me off. His temper flared, and he vaulted back onto his horse, looking down at me from his superior height. “I will marry you. I will give you the title of Princess. But do not dare to dream of anything more.” With that, he glanced back at the modest green carriage trailing behind him, called out, “Let’s go,” and galloped away, leaving me to choke on the dust kicked up in his wake. As the green carriage passed, a pale, delicate hand lifted the curtain, revealing a familiar profile. It was my half-sister, Gladys. I shook my head with a bitter smile and turned to get back into my own carriage. We had been childhood friends, he and I. I didn’t know how we had come to this. He used to be the one who protected me most, always calling me his “dearest Sera.” At royal banquets, if he didn’t see me, he would pester my grandmother until he found me. When did it all change? I suppose it was after he saved me from those bandits. He had held me then, his voice tight with panic, terrified that I had been truly harmed. But when he heard the Queen suggest I be betrothed to him, his entire demeanor had shifted. From then on, whenever someone mentioned our unofficial engagement, his face would darken, and he would ignore me. At first, I didn’t understand why. It wasn’t until my past life, on the night my half-sister married the Duke of Ancora, that I finally understood. The Prince got drunk that night, and he spent the entire evening staring at a miniature portrait of Gladys. I finally realized he had already given his heart to someone else. It just wasn't me. In my previous life, after the Duke died, my half-sister was sent to guard the royal tombs. The last time they saw each other, they stood on opposite ends of a grand hall during a court banquet, their roles and statuses a chasm between them, staring at each other in silent, heartbroken agony. Their love was truly a thing of profound depth. So, in this life, I decided to grant them their wish. 3 When I returned to the manor, my grandmother was already waiting for me. She was reclining with her eyes half-closed, a handmaiden kneading her shoulders with a gentle, rhythmic pressure. She looked no different than usual, but I knew. I knew my grandmother was in a foul mood. As I expected, she opened her eyes at the sound of my footsteps and gave me a thorough look-over. “Are you hurt anywhere?” A warmth spread through my chest. I shook my head. She sat up straight, her face hardening. “The Prince sent a messenger. He intends to take Gladys as his royal consort. The Queen Dowager has already given her blessing.” Gladys. My half-sister. I froze. This had not happened in my previous life. Where had I made a mistake? My grandmother was still smiling, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I had intended to make her a proper wife, but she seems eager to throw herself away as a mere mistress. If I hadn’t promised the King to keep your betrothal a secret for now, I would love to see the look on her face when she finds out…” I remained silent. In my past life, my grandmother had married me to the Prince and Gladys to the Duke, making her a Duchess. In this life, knowing my grandmother’s cunning, if I married the Duke, she would have schemed to make Gladys the Crown Princess. But Gladys had chosen to be a consort instead. A lesser position. Her previous words sparked a thought. “Grandmother, do you know why His Majesty wants to keep the betrothal a secret? And for how long?” My grandmother considered this for a moment. “Since the Queen’s passing, the King has not looked upon the Prince with the same favor as before. I suspect he has grown wary.” She looked at me. “It won’t be for long. The Duke returns to the capital next month. The decree will be announced then.” I silently counted the days. It was only a couple of weeks. A relief. Gladys’s ceremony was set for three days’ time. The Prince, eager to have her by his side before his own grand wedding, wanted to both please his beloved and deliver a sharp blow to my pride. Because it was a rushed affair for a mere consort, the ceremony was far from grand. But the Prince came to escort her personally, even bringing a pair of wild geese he had hunted himself—a traditional and deeply personal betrothal gift. It was clear he was giving Gladys as much dignity as he could. The normally serene Willow Courtyard was adorned with lanterns and colorful silks, a festive air all around. But if you looked closely, you’d see that none of the fabrics, none of the chests of gifts or finery, were of the true, deep crimson reserved for a royal bride. Even the veil on Gladys’s head was a soft rose-pink. I watched the joy on the Prince’s face slowly crack, then force itself back into a smile. His gaze drifted down to their intertwined hands. One feigning festivity, the other feigning shyness. Noticing my gaze, he lifted his chin defiantly and squeezed the woman’s hand beside him even tighter. I coolly shifted my gaze away, ignoring his childish games. It wasn't until we had left the courtyard, out of our grandmother's sight, that the Prince pulled me viciously into a corner. “Seraphina, when did you become so jealous and petty? You wouldn’t even allow Gladys to wear crimson, afraid people wouldn’t know she is just a consort? Do you know how much this wounds her? How is she supposed to hold her head high?” My brow furrowed in anger. I wrenched my arm from his grasp. “Your Highness, is it not proper for a consort to wear rose-pink?” “How could that be proper? Gladys is—” “She is what?” I stared at him, a half-smile on my lips. His face flushed a deep red, and he was rendered speechless. I knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to say that Gladys was the woman he cherished above all others, that she shouldn’t be treated like anyone else. I spoke slowly, deliberately. “If Your Highness feels she has been wronged, you are more than welcome to petition the King to make her your Princess.” It was common knowledge that consorts wore rose-pink. I didn’t know what he was making such a fuss about. If he was so worried about his precious love being slighted, why hadn’t he dared to ask the King to make her his wife sooner? In the end, it was simple fear. As I expected, he flew into a rage. “So this is the character of the great Duke’s daughter,” he sneered. “Since you refuse to give Gladys face, then on our wedding day, do not blame me for refusing to give you any.” I said nothing. Just then, Gladys came looking for him. I stepped aside, inviting him to leave. “Your Highness, please.” He snorted and stormed off. But Gladys did not follow him immediately. She stopped and looked at me, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “The Prince is blaming you because of me again, sister? I am truly sorry—” She leaned in close, her voice a ghost of a whisper. “Tell me, sister, who do you think will be queen in this life?” 4 So, Gladys was reborn, too. I closed my eyes and let out a soft sigh. In our last life, she had married the Duke of Ancora. He was a soldier, a cold man who knew nothing of tenderness. Every time Gladys saw me, she would glare at me with seething hatred, as if I had stolen her grand destiny. So, in this life, she contacted Prince Apollo ahead of time, securing her place as his consort. She wanted to enter the East Wing of the palace before me, to lay her plans early. The threads of fate had diverged. But little did she know, I had no intention of ever marrying the Prince. All her schemes against me were destined to fail. I didn’t leave the manor in the following days, instead staying home to prepare for my own wedding. I had always felt a pang of guilt for the Duke. He, the Prince, and I had all grown up together. But my heart had only been for Apollo, and the Duke was a man of few words, so I often overlooked him. I still remembered him standing in the gloom of the dungeons, his dark eyes filled with an emotion I couldn't comprehend. “Sera,” he had asked, “if I became king, would you marry me?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The Duke commanded a powerful army, and he was suspected of treason. Apollo had used my name to lure him to the capital, where he was ambushed and killed. That was his end in our previous life. I hope that this time, we can both have a better fate. I tied off the last stitch and unfolded the crimson bridal veil I had just finished embroidering with twin griffins and silver clouds. I blew on it gently. My grandmother always said my needlework was clumsy, so I had taken lessons from the master embroiderer at The Gilded Needle. This was my finest work. The Duke… he would like it, wouldn’t he? My heart was full of hope. I never imagined my creation, my heart’s blood, would be so utterly desecrated. When I went back to The Gilded Needle to retrieve the veil, the embroiderer smiled at me. “The Prince took it,” she told me. Seeing my face fall, she looked at me, confused. “His Highness heard you had embroidered a veil for him and was so delighted he wanted to see it. Is… is something wrong, my lady?” I closed my eyes, suppressing the rage that surged within me, and bolted out of the shop. After asking countless people, I finally found where Apollo was. A royal guard tried to stop me, cautiously explaining that the Prince and his consort were flying a kite and it would be inappropriate for me to intrude. I pushed him aside with a cold laugh. On a sprawling green lawn, a woman was flying a kite, her pale hand stretched high. Soon, another, larger hand covered hers, and the woman leaned into his embrace with a shy, coquettish laugh. My sudden appearance interrupted their flirtatious display. The Prince’s face soured. He eyed me warily. “What are you doing here?” I held out my hand, getting straight to the point. “The veil. Give it back to me.” His brow furrowed. “It’s gone. Just make a new one.” My eyes widened in fury. Before I could speak, Gladys let out a delicate laugh. She covered her mouth with a silk handkerchief, her beautiful eyes dancing as she pointed to the sky. “Sister, your veil is truly beautiful. It makes the most unique kite in the entire capital, doesn’t it?” Following her gaze, I felt a jolt, as if struck by lightning. The kite she held by a string was made from my bridal veil. The crimson silk was a stark slash against the brilliant blue sky. Even the silver clouds I had so painstakingly stitched were vividly clear. Apollo— He had used the work of my hands, the proof of my heart, to please his mistress. Blood rushed to my head. I felt as if I were drowning in a sea of fire, the grievances of this life and the last pouring out like a flood, threatening to crush me. Losing control, I shoved him with all my might, my voice nearly a scream. “That was mine! How could you?!” “Are you mad—?” He stumbled back, his angry question dying on his lips the moment he saw my crimson-rimmed eyes. He had never seen me so emotional. For a moment, he was stunned, at a loss. After a long pause, he scowled, his voice hard. “Fine. It was made for me anyway. As long as it pleased me, that’s all that matters. Why make such a scene? This one is gone. Just go and embroider a new one.” I trembled with rage, forcing back the tears that pricked my eyes. I choked back the lump in my throat and stared at him, my voice clipped. “Who told you… this veil was embroidered for you?” He froze. After a moment of hesitation, the flicker of guilt on his face was replaced by mockery. “So you’ve learned to play hard to get, Seraphina. The royal decree is imminent. Can’t you just behave? It’s just one veil. On our wedding day, you’ll still be begging me to lift it. Must you act as if this is the end of the world?” I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the storm in my chest. I turned, took the bow and arrow from a nearby guard, and in one swift motion, drew the string taut. With a whoosh, the arrow shrieked through the air. At almost the same instant, the kite dancing in the sky ripped apart. With the sound of a blade tearing through silk, the crimson veil was utterly destroyed. The Prince stared at me in disbelief, too shocked to speak. Gladys, beside him, shrieked and buried her face in his chest as if terrified. In the nearly frozen air, I stared at him, my face devoid of all expression. “Between you and I, Your Highness, we are like this silk. Severed and broken.” Without another word, I threw down the bow and turned to leave. Behind me, I heard Gladys’s tearful voice. “Your Highness, it’s all my fault. I thought sister would be happy to see you had turned her heartfelt gift into a kite… I didn’t realize… She seems so angry. Should you go and console her?” I felt a burning gaze locked on my back. After a brief silence, I heard a man’s hoarse, irritated voice. “Let her be. She’ll get over it once we’re married.”
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