Marissa waited until he was gone, until the sound of his heavy, angry boots had faded into the darkness of the stairwell.
Then, she turned. Her work here was done.
She walked toward the main staircase. Her carriage was waiting. Derek was waiting.
She descended the stairs, her mind already moving to the next move. She had humiliated the Prince. She had neutralized Ashlyn. But she knew Liam would not stop. He would co back harder.
She reached the bottom floor. The main hall was empty now, the staff cleaning up the remnants of the day, sweeping the floor and arranging the chairs and tables.
She walked toward the main entrance.
Just as she reached the heavy double doors, a figure stepped out from the shadows of the cloakroom.
It was Princess Dahlia.
Marissa stopped abruptly. She was surprised. She thought the Princess had left with Lady Edwina.
Dahlia stood there, wrapped in her heavy cloak, her hood down. Her face was composed again, the redness in her eyes the only sign of her earlier anger. She stood alone, her guards waiting outside. She was waiting.
Marissa curtsied imdiately. It was a reflex.
"Your Highness," Marissa said, her voice respectful. "Did you forget sothing? Shall I send a servant to retrieve it?"
Dahlia looked at her. Her gaze was steady, intelligent, and piercing. She didn’t look like a woman who had forgotten a glove or a fan. She looked like a woman who had solved a puzzle and wanted to check the answer.
"Today’s events," Dahlia said. Her voice was quiet, but it carried in the empty hall.
She walked closer to Marissa.
"The invitation to supper," Dahlia listed. "The maid stumbling with the token. The unlocked door. The timing."
She looked Marissa in the eye.
"These were your deliberate arrangents, right?" Dahlia asked. "You staged this."
It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t angry. It was a question between equals.
Marissa hesitated for a split second. She could lie. She could play the innocent Duchess again. She could say it was fate.
But she looked at Dahlia’s face. She saw the pain there, but also the strength. She saw a woman who, like her, was fighting to survive in a world of powerful, cruel n. She saw a potential ally.
Marissa decided to trust her.
"Your Highness has already figured it out," Marissa replied honestly. She straightened from her curtsy. "I dare not lie to you."
She took a step closer, lowering her voice so the sweeping servants wouldn’t hear.
"Prince Liam has been harassing ," Marissa confessed. "For weeks. Since the first day he saw at the palace for the festival. He has threatened my husband. He has stolen my private belongings from my ho. He has demanded that I... submit to him."
She clenched her hands in front of her.
"Despite knowing I am married to his cousin," Marissa said, her voice trembling with indignation. "Despite knowing I love my husband. He would not stop. He told he would kill Derek if I refused. He said accidents happen."
She looked at Dahlia, her eyes pleading for understanding.
"I truly had no other choice," Marissa said. "I could not fight him with swords. I could not fight him with armies. He is the Crown Prince. I had to use the only weapon I had. I had to use the truth."
She bowed her head.
"I reluctantly took this asure," she whispered. "I lured him here. I sent the invitation. I wanted you to see. I am sorry for the pain it caused you, Your Highness. I did not want to hurt you. I only wanted to stop him."
Dahlia listened. She watched Marissa’s face. She saw the sincerity. She saw the desperation of a wife trying to save her husband.
Slowly, a sad, weary smile touched the Princess’s lips.
"Won," Dahlia said softly, looking at the closed door of the establishnt. "We already struggle greatly in this world. We are restricted everywhere. We are told where to go, who to marry, what to say. We are pawns in their gas."
She looked back at Marissa.
"And often," Dahlia added, her voice bitter, "we are coveted without reason. We are treated as prizes to be won, or toys to be broken. My husband thinks he owns the world, and every woman in it."
She reached out. She took Marissa’s hand in hers. Her grip was firm, supportive. Her skin was cool.
"I understand," Dahlia said. "Your actions were born of necessity. You were protecting your ho. You were protecting yourself. I cannot fault you for that. In your place, I would have done the sa."
She squeezed Marissa’s hand.
"But," Dahlia warned, her eyes turning serious, darkening with knowledge of her husband’s nature. "You need to be careful. Liam is not a man who forgives. He is wounded now. He is humiliated. And a wounded beast is dangerous."
She patted Marissa’s hand gently.
"He will not stop because of this," Dahlia whispered. "He will only be angrier. Watch your back, Duchess. He will co for you again. And next ti, he will not be so careless. He will not leave doors unlocked."
Marissa smiled. It was a smile of gratitude and shared strength. She realized that Dahlia was not just a victim; she was a survivor.
"Thank you for your understanding, Your Highness," Marissa said. "I will be ready."
Dahlia nodded. She pulled her hood up, hiding her face once more.
"It’s fine," she said.
She turned and walked out into the night, her carriage waiting to take her back to the palace, back to the cold bed she shared with a monster.
Marissa watched her go. She felt a new sense of resolve. She had made an enemy in Liam, but she might have just made an ally in the Queen.
And in this ga, an ally who slept in the enemy’s bed was worth more than gold.
Marissa turned to her own carriage, Lily already waiting for her inside.
"Let’s go ho," she said to the driver. "My husband is waiting."
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