Chapter 1: The Madwoman’s First Promise

I was just a maid, the kind who did whatever no one else wanted in the West Wing of the old palace. I was the one they called when someone had to scrub floors that never came clean, or when there was a body that nobody wanted to claim and someone had to drag it away. I kept my head down—like anyone who’s learned not to hope for more.

Today, they brought in a madwoman, ranting over and over that she was the Royal Favorite. She kept repeating it, like if she said it enough, she could pull the past back together from thin air. Her voice kept catching on the words. Of course she did.

I didn’t buy it. I told her to let it go, but she grabbed my hand. Her fingers were ice-cold and desperate, like she was trying to anchor herself to the world through me.

"Do you want to be a lady of the court?" Her eyes were wild, but the question came out smooth, practiced—like she’d said it a thousand times before.

I thought she was ridiculous and shrugged, "Sure." The kind of “sure” you use to humor someone you think is off their rocker.

"Then let me teach you." Her voice dropped, low and secretive, like we were co-conspirators.

"I’ll teach you how to win the king’s heart, how to outmaneuver the others." She sounded like she was reciting secret rules she’d carved into the bones of the palace itself.

And then—somehow—I really did become a lady of the court. The memory of her madness didn’t seem so crazy after that. The realization stung, sharp and strange.

On the day my title was granted, I told the palace staff quietly, "Cremate her." My mouth was calm, but my stomach was twisted tight as a fist.