I Married the Third Prince

"Alicia, listen to me…" Nicholas hurried toward me, reaching for my hand, but I slipped aside, avoiding his touch.

He awkwardly rubbed his palms together and stammered, "I had too much to drink today, and Maggie, she…"

"No need to explain." I cut him off. "The betrothal contract is ruined. Whatever lay between us no longer exists."

His expression grew anxious. "Alicia, I know you hate me, but you must understand—I had no choice. You know what Prince Carlson is like: cruel, violent, and a eunuch besides. How could I stand by and let Maggie fall into such a pit of fire?"

A bitter smile curved my lips as I looked at his earnest face.

Always Maggie.

In their eyes, only Maggie mattered. Compared to her, I was nothing more than a weed by the roadside.

"And what about me?" Tears blurred my vision as I tore the veil from my face. "She scarred me with her potion during the competition. What am I supposed to do now? Who would ever marry me?!"

For a moment, he froze. But when his gaze fell on the scar across my cheek, revulsion flickered unmistakably in his eyes.

He instinctively stepped back before forcing himself to steady. His voice, strained, sought composure.

"You… don't despair. For the sake of our past, I could still take you as a concubine."

"Concubine?!"

Disbelief and fury surged through me.

"Nicholas, we've been betrothed since childhood. You once swore to love me for a lifetime, and now you would relegate me to a concubine?"

His eyes darted away, guilty, evasive.

"Alicia… look at yourself now. To be my concubine is already more than you deserve. Besides, Maggie—"

"Enough!" My voice cracked like a whip. My nails dug deep crescents into my palms. "I would rather die than be your concubine!"

My sudden defiance left him momentarily stunned, then rage flushed his face.

"You think you're still the celebrated beauty of Reychelle City? Look at your face! Who would want you now, except maybe a beggar on the street?"

I let out a cold laugh, replaced the veil over my face, and turned to leave.

Behind me, his voice rose, harsh and desperate. "Alicia! You'll regret this!"

Back in my chamber, a maid entered with a smile, holding out a small lacquered box.

"Prince Carlson heard of his betrothal to a young lady of the Barden family and specially sent this—Kallos Balm. They say it heals scars and restores beauty."

I lifted the lid. A faint fragrance of herbs drifted out, soothing and refreshing. My heart, frozen for so long, thawed just a little.

So perhaps Prince Carlson was not as monstrous as they claimed.

…

As the neglected daughter of the Barden family, I had to purchase myself even the jewelry for my own wedding.

Yet while I was choosing, a delicate, overly sweet voice cut through the air.

"Oh my, fancy seeing you here, Alicia."

Maggie's feigned surprise rang loud enough to draw every gaze in the shop.

Clinging to her, Nicholas's eyes flicked over the phoenix coronet in my hands. His lips curled with scorn.

"Alicia, didn't you declare you'd rather die than be my concubine? Why are you preparing for a wedding then?"

Maggie swayed forward.

"Alicia, that coronet is reserved for a principal wife. For someone like you, a concubine…"

She plucked a plain silver hairpin from the display and slid it into my bun with a titter.

"This suits you far better."

My grip on the coronet tightened, knuckles whitening. I drew breath to retort when suddenly, my veil was yanked away.

Maggie staggered back two steps, clutching the fabric in her hand, and let out a dainty little cry.

"Oh, Alicia, I lost my footing and accidentally knocked off your veil. I didn't mean to."

In an instant, every eye in the shop fixed on me—on the scar I had so carefully hidden.

A collective gasp rippled through the room.