Chapter 4 Aug 18, 2025 Celeste "You have a duty. One you are failing." He hadn't even looked at me when he said it. Just stared ahead, voice flat and dismissive, like I was a broken piece on the altar of monarchy-valuable once, now not worth fixing. But the words stuck to me like thorns. You have a duty. One you are failing. Now, hours later, the palace slept-but I couldn't. My bare feet whispered across cold marble. My hair hung loose around my shoulders. As I turned into the west wing, I stopped. A soft golden light spilled from behind a cracked door-the King's private salon. That room was never lit this late. Never open. Then I heard a voice. Deep, rough, unmistakably familiar. Alexandre. I should have walked away. Gone back to my rooms. Forgotten what I'd seen. But I couldn't. My legs moved without permission, something inside me pulling me forward. When I reached the door, my heart was pounding. I knew I shouldn't look. But I did anyway. Through the narrow gap, I saw him sitting in a velvet armchair. His legs were spread, his shirt open to his waist, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. Candlelight played across his skin, making him look almost unreal. One hand gripped the armrest. The other was buried in a woman's hair. Lady Mireille knelt between his legs. My stomach dropped. I forgot how to breathe. Her lips were wrapped around him, moving with practiced ease-slow, steady, completely focused. Her hands gripped his thighs as her head moved, cheeks hollowing with each motion. His eyes were closed tight, jaw tense, mouth open in a silent groan. Then he spoke, voice hoarse and broken: "Mireille…" Lady Mireille. Of course it was her. She was older, powerful in the way only certain women could be at court. From the moment I'd arrived, she'd made her contempt clear-sharp words, cold smiles, never missing a chance to tear me down. She called me soft, unworthy, naive. She held onto power by staying close to men like Alexandre. Now I saw exactly how close. But there was something more in the sound he made. Not just pleasure-something desperate, almost pained. Like he hated wanting her but couldn't stop himself. I covered my mouth but didn't back away. My body was frozen, locked in place with shock. And then, to my horror, I felt it. Heat pooled low in my belly. My thighs pressed together. My breath turned shallow. Can I use this? The thought cut through my shock like a blade. Here he was, the King, the man who'd humiliated me hours ago about my "failure," engaged in his own scandalous behavior. If anyone discovered this… I could make him stop. Stop the lectures about duty. Stop the public humiliation. But even as the strategic part of my mind calculated, another part was transfixed by the scene itself. He looked wild, raw-head thrown back, throat exposed, fingers tightening in her hair. His hips moved slightly as she took him deeper. The sounds were wet, rhythmic, obscene. He was thick and hard, and she handled him like this was routine. I gripped the doorframe, fingers digging into wood as my breath shook. My body responded despite everything-pulse racing, skin flushing, that maddening ache spreading through me. I shifted and the movement sent sparks through my core. It should be me. The thought hit me like lightning. Not her with her cold smiles and cutting remarks. Not her kneeling there while I stood humiliated in council chambers. Me . Then he gasped. His body tensed. "Christ-Mireille," he groaned, voice cracked and urgent. "Don't stop." That's when his eyes opened. He saw me. Alexandre didn't look surprised. Didn't seem ashamed. His gaze held mine, and what I saw there wasn't guilt. It was something dark. Something that made my skin burn and my heart race with more than fear. And I-God help me-I didn't run. Not right away. I stared, pulse roaring in my ears, heat flooding my cheeks and between my thighs. I imagined myself there instead. Kneeling between his legs. His hand tangled in my hair. His mouth parting on my name. I hated her. I hated myself. I hated that I wanted what she had. I could use this against him, I thought desperately. Make him pay for humiliating me. Finally, my body jolted into action. I turned and fled down the corridor, tears streaming, bare feet slapping against stone. I didn't stop until I reached my chambers, slamming the door behind me.