Rose didn’t remember going to sleep that night. Her only memories are of sobbing in the parlor, of picking up a bottle of wine that was stored in the cellar but never actually opening it. Her mouth still tastes of vomit.

  She rose from the bed, still in her dress from the ball that never quite was, and looked through the window. It was quite early, there was little light outside, and it was also fairly cloudy. It looked like it may rain.

  “Did.” She began, speaking to no one, pressing her hand against her mouth as she felt a bit of nausea. “Did it… Yes, it did happen, didn’t it?”

  Rose gets out of the bedroom and begins wondering the townhouse. Everything is empty. She had expected him to give her a room in the palace until their wedding, so she had sent Emilia home to organize and bring her personal belongings there, as there was nothing truly hers in the house, it was merely a place to sleep.

  She stops and walks over to the foyer, seeing the little telephone in a corner. She had called home through that her first day there, but it had such a terrible signal that she preferred to send telegrams or letters by eagle instead.

  Neither seemed appropriate to explain what just happened. Before she could think straight about it, there was a knock on the door.

  Journalists, probably. Her breakup with the prince was quite public, so they’ll have a million questions. Or maybe it was some envoy from the palace, repeating the order to leave the city by the next dawn. Or maybe, well, no, that one couldn’t be. Despite appearances she didn’t have any friends in the capital. She had been brought up among lambs and shepherds, while all the noble ladies here felt more like wolfs. Or maybe sharks, she had read in a book a long time ago that those were quite deadly.

  She went to the door, and opened it just a little bit.

  There were no flashes of cameras, or any noise. She opened it a bit more, noticing a small lady, dressed in a smart blue dress, standing at the bottom of the entrance stairs. Rose peeked outside from behind the door.

  “Good morning, ma’am. Can I help you?”

  “Good morning to you too sweetie.” Her voice was sweet, but it had nearly none of the put-on honey-filled falsetto of the ladies of the capital’s high society. It sounded earnest, at least to her. “Is this the residence of Lady Rose Wynthart?”

  “For now it is, yes. Although I’m afraid that will change very soon. How may I help you?”

  The lady looked at Rose for a brief moment, studying her in silence.

  “Oh, of course. I’m sorry for not recognizing you dear, but my vision is sometimes a bit poor. I’m Violet Azdre de Dangla, do you remember me?”

  Rose shook her head and let out a small apology.

  “Well, alright, I figured that much. And I couldn’t expect more since we only briefly talked in a party, but not every lady here, fortunately for all of us, is a social genius.”

  The former fiancee of the prince nodded, a bit unsure of both where this conversation was going and wether this Miss Azdre had insulted her.

  “I work for The Last Eyes.” She said, in a slightly softer tone.

  Rose furrowed her brow. “You’re a journalist. I’m sorry but I don’t…”

  “No, no, no dear, no. I’m not a journalist. I’m a columnist, it’s a different thing. And that’s not even really my job, I’m actually a playwright. Have you seen The Seas Of Fate?”

  “Yes.” Rose responded, in recognition. She had gone to see it with Rull on the night of its debut in the capital. Neither of them liked it, but it wasn’t bad. She had seen the same story in so many romance novels that it felt unpleasant. “But what does a playwright want with me?”

  Violet snickered. “Columnist dear. And I want to write a column about you.”

  “So, journalism.”

  “No, this isn’t about informing the public, they very much know what happened last night, or at least a story of it. It is in almost every broadsheet. No, I want to write a protest column.”

  Rose fully opened the door. “Would you like to come inside, Miss Azdre?”

  She went in, only opening her mouth once inside. “Not ‘miss’, dear, I’m married.”

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  “I… um…” Rose straightened her dress a bit. “I’m not sure I’d like to really protest, Madam Azdre. With giving my version of the story I think I will be satisfied, actually”

  “And why is that, dear? Are you afraid that the Regent will send his forces after you?”

  Rose took a step back. “What?! No! He would never do such a thing.” Just after she said that, her mind wandered off to a night, just over one year ago, as they were on top of one of the white marble bridges of Lardam, overseeing the river Lamd as it went through the central park of the city. It was colder than normal for the time of the year, but that made it felt even better when they held hands. And he promised to never make her regret being with him. A sob drowned inside her throat. She wasn’t sure of what was reality anymore.

  “He’s not like that.” She said, her voice small. Tears appearing in the corners of her eyes just before she quickly wiped them away. “I… I have done too much in this city. I do not wish the possibility of slandering him.”

  Madam Azdre snorted, looking towards the door. Ready to take her leave. But decided to stay.

  “Then, there will be no column, as it appears you agree with your fate, do you?”

  Rose stared at her. She hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror, but it wouldn’t surprise her if they were bloodshot.

  “I do not agree with it. I would do anything in my power to change this. I…” Her voice cuts off for a moment. She wipes another tear. “I want to wake up and realize that I’m still yesterday, early in the morning. That none of this has happened.”

  The woman in blue looked up to her, resting her hands on her sides. “And you’re going to let him get away with planning to humiliate you?”

  “Planning?” Rose staggered.

  He couldn’t do that, he wouldn’t do that, not in a million years. Sure, having it be that public was terrible, but maybe a quieter breakup would have only created horrible rumors about her. Although he did accuse her of several crimes, terrible ones at that. She didn’t know what to think, but quietly asked for evidence. If this Madam Azdre didn’t have any, she’d kick her out of the house without apologies, physically if necessary. She couldn’t care much for pleasantries anymore beyond what had been drilled into her since infancy.

  “Now, now, dear. Maybe you should take a seat for this.”

  Rose obeyed, getting on a decorative chair that was on a side of the foyer.

  “Now, you haven’t attended many royal balls have you?”

  She didn’t know if the columnist was making fun of her, again.

  “No, I have not. This was my third. I have never been one for the social events of the highest society. He knew it and respected it.”

  She leaves her hopes for the party out, that’d be far too much information, and she’s sure she’s already given a bit too much. “Does that matter?”

  “The Regent must attend the royal ball dressed in his regalia.”

  Rose blinked. She remembers him, the previous two times, wearing a coronet, and a sash, and an elegant dark blue suit, perfectly fitted for him. Both things were absent this time.

  “And, what does that mean?”

  “Oh dear. It means that he didn’t intend to be in a ball. He fully intended to just break up with you, publicly, once it started. And accuse you of those crimes. So then, he could cancel it, but the matter would be completely out. It was a trap for you, dear. A trap.” Madam Azdre emphasized that last word, making it feel truly evil, her sweet tones making a whole image of uncanny ill intent.

  She wanted to protest, but was unable to. All words died in her throat, and she wanted to puke again. She felt sick.

  “Madam Azdre.”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “As you may know, I have to leave the city by the first light of tomorrow, so I do not have the time to lose answering questions to the public, much less for the sake of something I have no interest in whatsoever.” Rose surprised herself at how calm and authoritative she sounded despite the maelstrom inside of her. “If you have questions for me, for that column, please forward them towards my family’s estate, and once I am properly settled back there, I will be glad to answer them all by letter. As I’m sure you’re not in the mind of making that long a trip just to interview someone who is back to being a mere countryside noblewoman. Which, to be entirely fair, is what I’ve always been.”

  Madam Azdre scoffed in protest but felt silent and with a small apology and taking her word, left the house. Rose stayed sitting on a decorative chair at a side of the foyer, clasping her hands together.

  She couldn’t get any of what that lady had said out of her head, no matter how much she insisted herself in that it was probably some verbal manipulation to force her into saying something bad about Rull. Something she would never do. But every time she tried to kick those thoughts out of her mind, the more it clicked in her. It was like her brain was finishing a puzzle and revealing the terrifying image on it. Her hand went to her mouth, she was going to puke again, but didn’t.

  Her mind wandered off to the party, and for the first time, the girl behind him was noticed. She was blonde, two head shorter than her, although Rose was wearing heels and didn’t know if the other girl was, but still.

  She was wearing this adorable soft pink dress, more apt for a child than the adult Rose was sure she was.

  Her face was angelical, she looked like a doll.

  Rose felt a bit sicker. Had that been the reason? Rull had a… a side piece who looked like a little girl? He couldn’t, could he? And, and, if he left her for her, that must mean that she’s the side piece now. A woman, an inferior one most likely, discarded for that perfect little toy. A dark chuckle came out of her mouth. If this was a nightmare, she had hoped to have woken up sooner, but at his point it felt like this would be forever.

  “You…” She began, her eyes locked in a long stare that was looking at nothing as she rose her head towards the ceiling. “You sniveling thieving whore.”

  Rose had never cursed that much, perhaps once back when she was in school and didn’t quite know what curses meant. “And the cowardly, lying, royal ass she must be slapping.”

  She wanted to scream, she wanted to puke, she wanted to sob into her hands until she couldn’t anymore. And yes, In her face, the only expression was a smile.

  “A trap, huh?” A giggle escaped her mouth.

  “He made a trap just to throw me away like the trash I am.”

  She laughed. It was a laugh more potent, more heartfelt in a way, than any of the times she had laughed at his awkward jokes, or his sweet little teases. She had never laughed that way before. It wasn’t a good laugh, it wasn’t a healthy one, it wasn’t quite an actual laugh.

  And yet she couldn’t stop.