Chapter 133

ISABELLA

I hated my new life in the United States.

I understood why Mila had chosen to banish me here–it was a cruel, unforgiving place, a stark reminder of what she must have lived through before coming to Fresonia. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that I was developing empathy for what the queen had survived prior to meeting Felix.

The country itself was fine, but it was far too much hustle and bustle for me. I found myself yearning for the quieter, calmer streets of Fresonia, wherever everybody knew everybody and I was never lost or alone. Here, I was always lost, always alone, always the foreigner. I felt like I had been set adrift.

But even that old life back in my home country that I dreamed of was long gone. I was no longer a noblewoman given the privilege of living in the castle–I had burned that all to the ground in favor of backing Charles in his coup. Mila and Felix may have shown me a modicum of grace in the end, but sometimes I wondered if my fate was worse than the dungeons.

Secretly, at night, I dreamed about Charles.

I laid in my little attic bed and soothed my aching joints to the best of my ability, and I thought about what Charles was doing at this exact moment. Was he in his cell in the dark, dank dungeons, looking up at the ceiling and thinking about me, too?

Or was I no longer of any value to him now that his plan had failed so spectacularly?

I had once fancied myself in love with the prince. I likely still was, as much as I had tried to suppress those feelings in the aftermath of battle. He may have been power hungry and difficult, but I had seen his softer, vulnerable side, the side that harbored his deep-rooted insecurities and dreams.

If I thought about Charles too much, I started to break apart.

My life as a maid for Mila’s adoptive family was even worse than the secret heartbreak I carried with me. Despite the fact that we had all once schemed together to bring down Mila, they all now resented me for that plan falling apart and for their subsequent humiliation.

Nadine was the worst of them all. She took advantage of every possible moment to make my life harder and my tasks more grueling. I had never cooked or cleaned before in my life, and the Bensons never let me forget it.

If I messed something up, they would send me to bed without food. They paid me a meager salary (that I suspected may have been secretly funded by Felix and Mila) in order to keep up appearances that I was here by choice, but there was no way I would ever make enough money to leave.

My knees were red and chafed from scrubbing the floors on all fours every morning, and my neck and back ached from all the bending over sinks and stovetops I now did. Most days, it felt like my whole body was one giant callous.

If this was good, honest work, I wanted nothing more than to go back to being a liar.

One morning, a few weeks into my banishment, I was slaving away over the stovetop preparing oatmeal for the Bensons’ breakfast when Nadine strode into the room, whistling merrily.

“Mail came for you!” The girl chirped. She threw an envelope my way and I was forced to scramble to save it from the hot stove.

I never got any mail. In fact, there was little evidence that I even existed beyond the confines of this stupid house.

I looked down at the envelope. Its seal was clearly already torn and the letter inside had been lazily stuffed back in.

“Did you read this?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at Nadine. “I thought it was illegal in America to open other people’s mail.”

Nadine shrugged. “I don’t think you’re in much of a position to lecture me on right and wrong. Didn’t you try to commit political assassination?”

My face heated with embarrassment and anger. “I would appreciate it if you would not read my mail.”

Nadine smirked at me, running her fingers through her perfectly blown-out hair. “Relax, Isabella. It’s written in that stupid language of yours. I wasn’t able to read it. What, you getting love letters or something?”

Charles.

Had Charles sent me a letter?

I snatched the envelope and ran into the nearby bathroom, locking the door behind me. Nadine scurried after me and pounded on the door, yelling at me to open up, but I didn’t care. I was so focused on this letter–on this news from home.

I recognized the writing immediately.

My mother.

Isabella–

I hope you are atoning for your wrongdoings properly in the United States and learning how to be a better person. I do not know where I went wrong with raising you. Perhaps someday you can explain it to me.

Tears pricked my eyes as I read her opening paragraph. I knew I had disappointed my family when none of them bothered to show up for my sentencing, but I never knew they hated me this much.

I continued reading.

I got your new address from one of the castle maids. Isabella, there is worrying news coming from the castle. The royal family is in trouble.

I gripped the paper a bit harder, my hands starting to shake. Was there still conflict in the region even following the war?

This is not public knowledge, so do not share it with anyone.

Queen Mila is dead.

The letter slipped from my hands onto the tiled bathroom floor. I sank to the ground against one of the cabinets, the only thing I could hear was my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Mila was dead.

I felt like I was going to be sick. Mila had never been my favorite person, but the thought of her dying was… troubling. Not necessarily for me personally, but for the entire country.

I may not have much love for her, but I had a great deal of love for Fresonia.

Then it hit me–Felix’s curse. If Mila was dead, how could Felix possibly still be alive?

I scanned the letter for any more information, but the rest was terribly vague.

Everything is being kept quiet for now. I am relying on your discretion, Isabella. Do not tell a single soul, especially those employers of yours.

I hope you are well. I hope to one day see you again.

Mother.

I knew it would probably be the best idea to flush the letter down the toilet or find some other way to destroy it, but I could not bring myself to let go of my mother’s words just yet.

A startling ache opened in my chest. My mother may have been angry with me, maybe even hated me, but she cared enough to inform me of what was going on. She cared enough to see me again. Maybe someday she could even forgive me about what happened with Charles–

I froze, a quiet dread seeping into my bones.

Did Charles have something to do with Mila’s death?