“Lady Zera. Princess Varia has requested I offer you this outerwear when and if you returned through the main entrance.”

She holds open a dark blue robe, the few scattered nobles walking behind her and in the gardens downstairs sending glances my way. My tunic is streaked with mud and blood, and while that doesn’t catch much attention in the common quarter, it does here. Rumors could start quickly if I don’t cover up as fast as possible.

“Lady Zera, please,” Ulla insists, holding the robe higher. “You have a reputation to maintain.”

“Do I?” I smile at her.

“You are a Spring Bride, and Prince Lucien’s favorite besides.”

Her comment acts like a barbed arrow, settling deep in my flesh and refusing to be pulled out. No—I can pull this arrow out. By myself. I have to, or it will fester into love again.

“I was,” I agree, patting her on the shoulder and brushing past her. “Wasn’t I?”

I stride the halls with my besmirched tunic, ignoring the soft gasps of nobles as they see me. So shocked are they by the sight of blood that several of the women even collapse, one fainting cold on the carpet when I approach closely. Young gaggles of noble children stop and gape at me, pointing wildly. I am filthy among shining crystal. I am bloodstained among immaculate white marble.

“No better than a butcher’s daughter!”

“Does she think she’s fighting in the war or some such?”

“—a violent girl!”

“So ugly a thing for a Spring Bride—”

“A potential princess of the kingdom covered in blood?”

With every word of disgust, I can feel Lucien slipping away from me. It’s a tiny step. It’s small, but this moment, their disapproval—it will all circle back to the king. This is just the first incident, but when I am done, the court will riot at the mere thought of making me a part of the d’Malvane family. Whatever clout I have left as a Spring Bride, whatever delusions the nobles still hold with me as Lucien’s favorite—it will all dry up.

Y’shennria taught me the importance of small things, of appearances, of rumors, and now I’m using all her knowledge to do the exact opposite of what she taught me for: to remove Lucien from me, bit by inexorable bit. Every rumor will be a cage for him, and every scandalous thing I do will be the impenetrable lock over the door. I’ll seal him in the palace again, putting the entire court between him and me.

I will never touch him again. And neither will he touch me.

His days of weakening me are over.

I arrive at the Serpent Wing, and the guards graciously allow me to dramatically throw the doors open to Varia’s apartments. But the rooms are empty. She’s gone.