The day I was forced to put on my wedding dress, my older sister was coughing up blood as she begged for an audience with the emperor.
She was the most talented woman in the capital, and she and the Crown Prince had been childhood sweethearts for ten years.
I was only a common-born daughter raised in the countryside, and I could barely speak properly.
Kneeling before the palace gates, my sister said, “I am willing to give my life in exchange for my younger sister’s safety and happiness.”
Everyone was moved by her deep affection and selflessness.
Only I knew that the night before, she had gripped my throat and said:
“A lowly servant like you thinks you deserve to steal my place as Crown Princess?”
On my wedding night, I clutched the poison hidden in my sleeve.
Then I heard the Crown Prince say softly:
“I’ve waited ten years for you. At last, you’ve grown up.”
In the flickering candlelight, his gaze was so tender it made my heart race.
Was he looking at me, or at someone else through me?
