Stay Dead This Time

Everett did not know how many years of suffering were buried in that single sentence. I took a deep breath and told him everything. All of it, from this life and the one before. My slow, miserable death; Ansel growing up in poverty with nothing to his name; Everett's murder.

When I finished, the color had drained from his face.

"Is all of this true?"

"Every word."

A long silence passed. The warmth bled out of Everett's eyes until they were cold as stone.

"Good. Then we make sure he stays dead."

…

The second day of Stellan's feigned death, I went to the palace to seek an audience with the king.

I needed His Majesty's own decree to seal the deaths of both Stellan and Daphne in the official record. Once that was done, coming back to life would mean they had deceived the crown.

I waited on the stone floor of the great hall, the cold seeping through my knees until they ached.

Back then, I came to petition the king for justice, to accuse Stellan of abusing his wife and son, of murdering my brother, of faking his death to deceive the world. However, by then, it was already too late.

Everett was dead, the Renworth family was in ruins, and Stellan had just returned from yet another victorious campaign. The king was never going to punish his prized general. I waited for three days and three nights and never even got past the doors.

Yet now, Stellan was dead as far as the world knew, and I was the grieving widow of a fallen war hero. So I had barely been waiting half an hour before His Majesty summoned me inside.

I pressed my forehead to the floor, every word deliberate and clear.

"Your Majesty, my husband, General Stellan Montclair, has fallen in battle. My cousin, Daphne Langford, so moved by his valor, has offered to follow him in death. I humbly beseech Your Majesty to grant Daphne a posthumous title of honor in recognition of her devotion, and to permit her burial alongside my husband in the Montclair family crypt."

There was a pause from behind the royal desk.

I knew why. There were not many women in this world who would willingly agree to let another woman be buried beside their own husband while they themselves still drew breath. Even fewer would personally petition the crown for an honor on that woman's behalf.

However, I knew the king would agree. There was no reason to refuse a living woman's request to bestow honors upon the dead. Better still, word of this would spread as a shining example of his benevolence, proof that the crown honored its soldiers and rewarded virtue.

"Granted."

That one word was all I needed.

I bowed my head in thanks, a cold smile hidden against the stone.

In my previous life, I gave ground at every turn, believing it would earn me even an ounce of sincerity in return. What did it get me?

I surrendered my title as lawful wife, surrendered my son's future, surrendered 20 years of my life, and in the end, I died in a crumbling cottage where no one even brought me a cup of warm water.

This life would not go the same way.

With the royal decree issued, Daphne was now officially recognized by the crown as a devoted woman who chose to be buried alongside her beloved. If Stellan dared come back to life after that, it would be treason.

It would mean the king had been deceived into granting a false title, deceived into honoring a fraud. And when that came to light, the two of them would not be the only ones who paid for it.

I stepped out of the palace, and the midday sun hit me so hard that it made my vision swim.

My thoughts drifted to Ansel. In my previous life, he waited in that chapel for three days and three nights, and the damage it did to his legs never healed. Every time the rains came, the pain was so bad he could barely walk.

As for Stellan and Daphne's children? They lived in the main wing, wore silk, and attended the finest schools. Ansel could not even count on a full meal.

Well, not this time.

This time, Ansel would be the sole legitimate heir of the Montclair estate.

I had barely stepped through the door when Vivienne was already there. She had broken free of the servants I posted to watch her and came flying at me with her hair wild and loose.

"You vile woman, what are you trying to do? Why did you go to the palace?"

I looked at her and pried her fingers off me. I did not answer either question.

I simply turned to the servants who had come running after her. "Are you going to escort Mrs. Montclair Senior back to her room, or do I need to ask twice?"