The blazingly formidable Duchess Renata broke down into heart-wrenching sobs before me, her regal composure shattering like glass as she collapsed to her knees. "Please," she begged, her manicured nails digging into my arms, "she's dying without you." eroding the last vestige of resolve from my already tormented heart.
Once again, I went to Margie's door myself, the wood cold beneath my knuckles as I knocked. When she opened it, sleep-rumpled and blinking, I couldn't speak - just crushed her against me, breathing in her familiar citrus scent. embracing her tightly as I confessed, "I love you!" The words tore from my throat raw and desperate, three syllables I'd sworn never to say again.
Yet after her return, she was framed by Heather's spies among my retinue. I found the planted evidence myself - Margie's hairpin beside the poisoned wine, her initials carved into the silver goblet. Too obvious to be coincidence, yet damning enough to stir the court's wrath.
