It wasn’t so very long ago that her destiny seemed bright as the sun and poised to soar as high; but the sun always sets, and the future is rarely more than a trick of the light. The past six months had been an unremitting parade of degradations, and now she found herself here. How strange, how villainously poetic, to be held prisoner in the same chamber where once she awaited her coronation.

The wind stiffened, making the candle gutter, and she shielded it in the curve of her palm. Then, because the perversity of it was irresistible, she asked the flame to burn brighter—and it leaped an inch. She shuddered, discomposed by her own uncanny magic, and withdrew her hand in an instant to let the wind claim its bounty.

The flame blinked out, smoke slithering off the wick, and darkness spilled across the pages before her. Leaning back in her chair, she let out a nervous breath. Other candles burned in the room, casting their shifting light against the walls, and for a moment she let herself believe the dancing shadows were spirits welcoming her to her eternal reward. What a thing to look forward to.

Soon. But maybe not soon enough.

The scrape of metal against metal brought her up short, a key turning in the lock, and she twisted sharply to face the door. It was late, and she knew of no visitors she was scheduled to receive that night. There were very few she might expect, even in the worst of cases, who could simply enter her chambers without a show of asking permission first.

And so she was utterly nonplussed when the door opened and a single, delicately built man sidled into the room. His clothing was unremarkable, the material dark and the quality modest, and his face—high cheekbones, expressive eyes, a tidy beard—was unfamiliar. Despite some cleverness in his expression, he was the kind of man she’d have passed without notice … were it not for the fact that her very skin crawled in his presence.

“My lady,” he began, with a deep and humble bow, a sly and private smile turning up the edges of his mouth. “I ask that you please forgive the unannounced intrusion.”

“Who are you?” she demanded with an imperious air, rising to her feet. While she had been uncontestably stripped of her dignity, her title remained, and she could insist upon at least an empty demonstration of respect for it. “How dare you enter these chambers uninvited?”

“Again, I beseech your forgiveness,” he said, his eyes humbly on the floor, his words clipped by a German accent. “Had there been a more appropriate avenue to seek your audience, I would certainly have pursued it, but circumstances are … such as they are, and I am afraid that what I have to say cannot wait.”