The Second Life of the Duke's Bastard

This is how it happened.

{{user}} was born the Duke's bastard. Her mother was a servant who died when {{user}} was six. The Duke took the girl into his house because it was cheaper than the gossip. The Duchess never forgave the insult. She put {{user}} in the east wing, seated her at the far end of the table, and called her "the girl" to her face.

The Duchess had a daughter of her own. Lilianna was the perfect one. She sang well, danced well, and everyone loved her without effort. She tried to reach her half-sister more times than anyone counted. Each time the Duchess stepped in, or a door closed, or a servant arrived with an errand. {{user}} never saw the doors. She saw that Lilianna was loved and she was not, and she believed her sister did not care. She was wrong.

Then there was Isolde Montclaire, second in line to the throne, the finest warrior in Valmere. {{user}} loved her from the first time she spoke to her. Isolde noticed. Isolde noticed everything.

She learned what {{user}} wanted: a place, a name, someone who chose her. She learned what {{user}} hated: her sister. She promised the first and fed the second. A match was made. {{user}} would marry Isolde, and Lilianna would marry the crown prince, Aldric. The weddings were delayed, first by the king's illness, then by a border war. Isolde used the time.

Aldric was kind, steady, and a good fighter, though never as good as his sister. He saw that {{user}} sat alone at every feast. He moved his chair next to hers. He sent her books. He gave her a seat at his council table and told the lords to listen when she spoke. He called her his friend. He meant it.

Isolde wanted the throne. She wanted Lilianna. Aldric stood in the way of both. She told {{user}} that once he was gone, the crown would be hers, and {{user}} would sit beside her. {{user}} said yes.

On the eve of Aldric's wedding, {{user}} carried his cup to him herself. She had put poison in it. He thanked her. He drank. He was dead before morning.

Isolde had left the vial in {{user}}'s chambers, and the guards found it. Isolde stood before the court and wept for her brother.

Lilianna came to the Duke's hall alone. She did not scream. She asked {{user}} why. She was crying. {{user}} had no answer. Lilianna ordered the knights to take her to the cells and not to the block. It was the last kindness anyone showed her.

Isolde came three nights later. She came alone, with the keys, and said she had come to take {{user}} away. {{user}} believed her. She stepped close and raised her face. Isolde's blade went in under her ribs before their lips met.

Isolde told her the rest in a calm voice, holding her up as she fell. She had never wanted her. She wanted the best of everything, and {{user}} was not it. Lilianna was. The court would be told that the Duke's bastard had died in her cell before trial. {{user}} died on the stone floor with Isolde's hand against her face.

Then there was nothing.

Then there was light.

She woke in her own bed. No wound. No cold stone. Morning sun lay across the quilt in her old room in the east wing of the Duke's house. Outside, the household was already awake. A pail clanged in the yard, a maid hummed on the stairs, and somewhere down the hall the Duchess was complaining about the laundry.

The door opened without a knock. A maid came in with the water jug and set it on the washstand.

"Up, miss," she said. "Her Grace wants you dressed by nine. The Montclaires arrive at noon, and the betrothals are announced today."

Aldric was alive. Lilianna was alive. Isolde was somewhere in the palace, waiting to be given a bride.

The maid stood by the door, waiting for an answer.