Chapter 2

Henriette slipped into her seat beside the king without a word, her presence quiet, almost unnoticed. She cast a quick glance at him but quickly lowered her gaze when she realized his attention wasn’t on her—it lingered instead on another woman across the hall. Swallowing the knot in her throat, she stared down at the empty plate in front of her.

Her eyes drifted to the king’s plate, already piled high with food. Around the hall, platters filled the center of every table—except theirs. The bridal table remained bare. Her stomach clenched with hunger, the rich aroma of roasted meats and spices making her mouth water.

Will someone bring me food? she wondered, unsure if she was allowed to ask or simply forgotten.

“Who is she?” Henriette asked softly, glancing at the woman who still held the king’s gaze. He had just raised a forkful of food to his lips.

He paused, then answered without hesitation. “My true love.”

Henriette blinked, the words cutting through her like ice. “Then why did you marry me?” Her voice trembled with confusion.

The king’s hand stilled. He dropped his fork, the clatter of metal on porcelain ringing through the reception hall. Heads turned. Conversations stopped.

“Do you have memory loss?” he asked, his voice sharp.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” she replied, her tone rising slightly—too much for his liking.

His expression darkened. “What games are you playing?”

The harshness in his voice made her flinch. “I’m not playing any games,” she said quickly, trying to steady her voice.

“You mean, Your Majesty,” he corrected coldly.

“Excuse me?” Henriette asked, taken aback.

“You address me as YOUR MAJESTY,” the king thundered, slamming his hand on the table. The sound jolted the entire hall; guests jumped in their seats.

With a sweeping motion, he rose to his feet. “My bride is tired and wishes to retire to our wedding bed,” he announced.

At once, everyone else stood. Henriette scrambled up beside him, catching on that the evening was done. She slipped her arm through the one he offered, forcing a smile as they walked out together, a trail of ladies-in-waiting falling into step behind them.

Henriette stood frozen in the center of a room so heavily adorned it felt suffocating. Gold trimmings framed every edge, velvet drapes cascaded from the ceiling, and not a single surface was spared from extravagance. The opulence pressed in on her, unfamiliar and unwelcoming.

A few ladies-in-waiting moved silently around her, their hands gentle but efficient as they dressed her in a satin nightgown that clung like water to her skin. No one met her eyes. No one spoke unless necessary. She had been told—quietly, firmly—that this was her chamber now. The king would come to her when he wished. She was never to step foot in his.

When am I going to wake up? she wondered, numb and detached, watching as they fastened delicate buttons and smoothed out wrinkles she’d soon undo.

What’s the point of all this? Her thoughts spiraled, her chest tight with unease. I’ll only have to take it off again... to lie with him. Will it be lovemaking or just sex? Probably the latter. He despises me. Why? Something about my family…? She couldn’t piece it together. Nothing made sense. Not the ceremony. Not the way he looked at her with cold disdain. Not this gilded prison disguised as a bridal suite.

A knock echoed through the room. The ladies scattered without a word, vanishing like mist. Henriette barely had time to react before the door opened and more than a dozen people streamed in. Among them stood the priest who had wed them only hours ago.

One woman broke from the group and came straight to her. Tears shimmered in the older woman’s eyes as she cupped Henriette’s face with trembling hands.

“My dear,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “Just get it over with. Get a baby in your belly, and all will be well. You’re our only hope.”

Henriette’s breath caught. “Mom?” Her voice cracked as the dam burst. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

Her mother had been gone for years—dead and buried in a world that no longer existed. Yet here she was, alive in this strange, vivid dream. Henriette didn’t want to wake up. She had always begged the universe for one more moment with her.

“Hush now, my sweet girl,” her mother whispered, brushing away the tears with gentle fingers.

A door on the side creaked open, drawing Henriette’s attention. The king stepped inside, draped in a deep crimson robe that did nothing to soften the hardness in his eyes.

“Let’s get this done,” he said flatly.

Henriette’s heart pounded as she looked at the door he had come through. Is that his room? Is his true love waiting for him behind it?

The question wouldn't leave her. It sat heavy in her chest—Was someone else waiting in his room? The one he actually wanted?

“What are you waiting for, woman? I don’t have all night,” the king snapped, already on the bed, his tone sharp with irritation.

Henriette flinched. Her feet moved, though everything in her body begged her to stay still. She walked toward the bed slowly, her eyes catching on the glaring white sheets stretched tight over the mattress.

White.

Her stomach turned. She knew what that meant.

They were expecting proof.

But there wouldn’t be any. Not for her.

Her chest tightened as she turned her head toward her mother, her eyes wide, pleading. Her mother moved quickly, closing the distance.

“It’s alright, my girl,” she said in a hushed voice, grabbing Henriette’s hand and helping her sit before pushing her gently down onto the bed. Her touch lingered a moment longer, just enough to slip something into Henriette’s palm.

It was small. Cold. Sharp.

Henriette curled her fingers around it without looking. A blade? A pin? Her mind raced. Did she want me to cut him? Or... fake the blood? Nothing made sense. Her heart beat louder than her thoughts.

The bed dipped. The king climbed on without hesitation, eyes dark, jaw tight. No kindness. No hesitation. Just duty and impatience.

“Wait,” she breathed out, panic threading her voice. “I need a moment alone with my mother.”

“Just stay still,” he muttered, already reaching for her legs. “Let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Henriette froze. Her fingers clenched tighter around the sharp object.

She might not have had a voice in any of this, but she wasn’t entirely helpless. Not yet.