Crimson Rose Queen

Chapter 4 – The Encounter (1)

With the courtiers gone, boredom returned. I turned to Colbert. "What do people do here all day?"

Instead of answering, he wrung his hands. "Your Majesty, provoking Lady Isabella was unwise! She's the king's favorite, and her father is the Grand Marshal—"

"And my father is the Prime Minister. I'm the queen. Enough hand-wringing." I waved him off. "Seriously, how do you all avoid dying of ennui?"

He sighed. "Before Your Majesty's arrival, the ladies occupied themselves with embroidery, tea parties, and strolls through the Royal Gardens."

Embroidery? I groaned. "No gaming consoles? No theaters? Nothing?"

At his blank look, I gave up. "Just point me to the gardens."

Alone at last, I wandered the palace's labyrinthine corridors. The opulence was staggering—gilded arches, frescoed ceilings, tapestries woven with silver thread. Yet the true marvel was the crisp, floral-scented air.

Following Colbert's directions, I expected manicured hedges and fountains. Instead, I found a secluded glade where a brook murmured under ancient oaks. And there, beneath the dappled light, stood a figure that stole my breath.

A young man in a gray half-cloak, his flaxen hair cascading like spun gold. A breeze stirred the blossoms overhead, parting his hair to reveal a face so achingly familiar, my knees buckled.

Ethan.

Tears blurred my vision as I sprinted toward him, crashing into his chest. "Ethan… Ethan…" I sobbed into his doublet.

His body stiffened. Then, icy fingers gripped my shoulders, pushing me back. A voice laced with venom cut through my haze:

"So the rumors are true. Her Majesty does throw herself at any passing man."

Chapter 4 – The Encounter (2)

My head snapped up. The same face—but the eyes were all wrong. Cold amber, devoid of warmth, brimming with contempt.

Not Ethan.

I recoiled, but his arms locked around me like iron. "Since Her Majesty offers herself so eagerly, how could I refuse?"

His mouth crashed onto mine, ruthless and claiming. I fought, but his grip only tightened, one hand sliding beneath my bodice to tease the peak of my breast. Shameful heat pooled low in my belly as my traitorous body responded.

When he finally bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, pain shocked me back to sense. I slapped him, nails raking his cheek.

"You dare steal my first kiss?" I spat. "That belonged to Ethan! You and Sebastian are cut from the same rotten cloth!"

He wiped the blood from his face, smirking. "Strange words from a woman who moaned into my mouth."

"I'll make you pay," I vowed. "You'll regret the day you crossed Eleanor Sterling!"

Blind with rage, I fled—only to collapse against a tree, weeping. Then, strong arms encircled me. A voice like honeyed velvet murmured, "Hush, my rose. I'm here."

A stranger? A dream? His lips brushed my forehead with unbearable gentleness. As darkness claimed me, I clung to one certainty:

This man, whoever he was, had left a token in the grass—a tiny silver locket etched with words too fine to read.

And I would find him again.