Chapter 8 Aug 19, 2025 Celeste The memory of his breath against my lips haunted me through the sleepless night. I had returned from the masquerade with trembling hands and a racing heart, Alexandre's whispered words echoing in my mind. If I do, I won't stop. The almost-kiss had left me hollow and aching, caught between desire and duty. I spent the morning pacing my chambers like a caged bird. The guilt ate at me-not for wanting him, but for what it meant. I was married, however cold that marriage was. I have to try, I told myself. One more time. Maybe if I could reach Renard, if I could somehow connect with the man who had once smiled at me during our courtship, I could quiet the desperate longing that threatened to consume me. Maybe I could save us both from this mess. And if I can't make this work, then at least I'll know I tried everything. By afternoon, I had made my decision. I wouldn't let my marriage die without a fight. Not when the alternative was wanting a man I could never have. I chose my dress carefully-the blue silk he'd once complimented, the one that brought out my eyes. I let my hair fall loose the way it had on our wedding night. I wanted to remind him of who we'd been before everything went wrong. This is my last chance, I thought as I walked toward our chambers. *If this doesn't work, then at least I'll be free to…* I couldn't finish the thought. Wouldn't let myself. I paused outside our door, hand hovering over the handle. Through the heavy oak, I could hear movement, voices. Maybe he was meeting with his valet or reviewing correspondence. Then I heard laughter. A woman's laughter, low and intimate and entirely wrong for a business meeting. Then a muffled moan-breathless, aching. My heart hammered as I pushed the door open, moving like I was underwater. Afternoon sunlight spilled across our marriage bed, illuminating a scene that burned itself into my memory. Renard was bare-chested, his dark hair disheveled, hands gripping the waist of the woman straddling him. Lady Mireille de Courtenay. The same woman who had knelt so prettily before the King. Her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders as Renard's mouth moved against her throat with a hunger I had never seen him show. The same mouth that had never kissed me with passion. The same hands that had never touched me with desire. "Renard-" My voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through their pleasure like a blade. He turned, startled, eyes wide with shock and something that might have been guilt. Lady Mireille showed no embarrassment. She smiled, lazy and satisfied, fingers still tangled in my husband's hair. "Oh good," she said, voice honey-sweet. "Now we're all being honest." Renard didn't even look at me when he spoke. "You never gave me anything to want. Always so cold, so stiff. Like being married to a statue." The words hit me like physical blows. "And barren too," he added, quieter, crueler. "What was I supposed to do?" So this is what I get for trying, I thought numbly. This is what my last chance looks like. Mireille laughed. "Honestly, darling, at least someone in this palace knows how to take a man between their thighs." I stared at my husband, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. At the betrayal laid bare before me. At the proof that he could show passion-just never for me. He can do this with her. With anyone but me. The silence stretched. I had come here seeking connection, hoping to save something from our marriage. Instead, I found confirmation of what I'd always suspected-I was nothing more than decoration in his life. But as I stood there, something shifted inside me. The guilt that had been eating at me all morning-gone. The sense of duty that had driven me here-shattered. Then I turned-slowly, regally. My spine stayed straight, head held high, every inch the princess I'd been trained to be. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. As the door shut behind me, one truth settled into my bones with devastating clarity: I owed this family nothing. Not loyalty. Not duty. Not fidelity. They threw away any claim they had on me. And for the first time since my wedding night, I felt free. Free to want what I wanted. Free to take what I needed. Free to go to Alexandre, consequences be damned.