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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

S omething inside Jessamin snapped. The fear and hurt that had been building transformed, crystallizing into a blazing, cleansing rage. She had spent her entire life afraid—afraid of her bloodline, afraid of rejection, afraid of being seen as tainted. She was done with fear.

“You want to know why I would never betray you to Lasseran?” She stepped forward, her voice low and dangerous. “Because I have spent every day of my life in terror of him. Because the mere mention of his name makes my skin crawl. Because I know better than anyone in this room what he truly is.”

A hint of confusion flickered across Ulric’s face for a second before the rigid mask returned.

“You think I’m his spy? His pawn?” Her laugh was brittle, edged with years of buried pain. “You fool. You blind, stubborn fool. You want to know my connection to Lasseran?”

The words she had never spoken aloud, the secret that had defined her entire existence, burst from her lips like a dam breaking.

“He is my uncle! My mother, the one who died giving birth to me, was his sister!” Her voice echoed off the stone walls, raw with emotion. “I have lived my entire life terrified that people will think my blood makes me a monster, and you have just proven my fears correct!”

The throne room plunged into stunned silence. His face transformed, shock replacing fury as the letter fluttered from his fingers to the floor. Guards shifted uncomfortably, averting their eyes from the naked emotion on display.

Tears streamed unchecked down her face. The secret that had been her constant companion, her private shame, lay exposed between them like a bleeding wound.

“My father sent me here to protect me from him,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Lasseran has been hunting me since I was a child. And you—” Her voice caught on a sob.

“You think I would help him? After his cruelty was responsible for my mother’s death?

After he’s spent all these years chasing me? ”

She stared at Ulric, at the dawning horror on his face, and felt nothing but a bone-deep weariness. The man she had come to love, the man she had trusted with her body and her heart, had believed the worst of her without hesitation.

“Jessamin—” he started, his voice suddenly stripped of its coldness.

She stepped back, shaking her head. “No. You’ve said enough.”

With the last remnants of her dignity, she turned and fled the throne room, leaving behind the shattered pieces of her heart and the secret that had poisoned her life since birth.

The corridor blurred through her tears. Guards stepped aside, their faces averted. She didn’t know where she was going—only that she needed to escape the crushing weight of Ulric’s betrayal.

Her feet carried her to the small garden courtyard where she had planted flowers from Almohad. She collapsed onto a stone bench, her body shaking with silent sobs. The irony was unbearable. She had finally found someone she trusted enough to love, only to discover he didn’t trust her at all.

A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the scent of pine and distant snow. Norhaven—the place she had come to think of as home. Now it felt as alien and hostile as it had on her first day.

“My queen?”

She looked up to find Grak standing awkwardly at the garden entrance. His gruff face was uncharacteristically gentle.

“The king has ordered me to escort you back to your chambers.”

Of course. She was a prisoner now.

She rose with as much dignity as she could muster. “Very well.”

As she followed Grak through the corridors, she wondered what would happen next. Would Ulric send her away? Lock her in the dungeons? Use her as bait to trap Lasseran?

The thought of facing her uncle sent a chill down her spine. She had spent her life hiding from him, and now she had lost her strongest protector.

They reached her chambers and Grak opened the door, his expression troubled.

“For what it’s worth, my queen,” he said quietly, “many of us believe in you.”

The simple statement nearly undid her composure again. She nodded, unable to speak, and entered her rooms.

The door closed behind her with a heavy thud, and she heard the unmistakable sound of guards taking position outside. She was truly a prisoner now—in a different kind of cage.

She crossed to the balcony, staring out at the mountains beyond. Somewhere out there, Lasseran was plotting, weaving his web of deceit. He had succeeded in turning Ulric against her, in isolating her from her husband and her new country. The peace she’d hoped to find here had been shattered.

But he had also done something unexpected. In forcing her to reveal her secret, he had inadvertently freed her from its power. The truth was out now, for better or worse.

She wiped away her tears and straightened her shoulders. She was still a queen. Still the daughter of the Priest King. Still herself. She would not be defined by Lasseran’s blood in her veins.

And if Ulric couldn’t see that, couldn’t trust in what they had shared, then perhaps he wasn’t worthy of her heart after all.