Chapter 1 Ruin and Renewal

Isabella’s POV

I’m sitting by the fire, working on a tapestry with gold thread. I’m stitching our family crest onto a piece of wool as a gift for Father Benedict, who helped care for my mother. My hands move slowly, and I try to stay calm, but my heart is racing. Today, my husband is finally coming home. We were separated right after our wedding night, when the king summoned him to defend the border. It’s been a full year, and I feel like all my hard work for this household has been worth it.

In my mind, I imagine him walking through the doors with a big smile, maybe even saying he’s sorry it took so long. Then I hear distant voices in the courtyard—the clank of armor, low chatter among the squires, and the soft neighing of tired horses. The sound makes my pulse jump. My hand starts to shake, and I accidentally prick my finger with the needle. Blood beads on my skin, and I quickly put my finger in my mouth to stop the bleeding.

I’m about to wrap my finger with a small piece of linen when I look up and see him standing in the doorway. He’s dressed in full armor, but his face is shadowed. There’s a strange tension in his eyes, an unease that sends a chill through me. He entered the hall without a flourish. There were no relieved smiles, no open arms. He stood tall, shoulders set, but there was something off about his gaze.

I tried to force a smile anyway—some small gesture to close the awful gap between us. “I’ve been waiting,” I said softly.

William’s jaw flexed. For a second, I thought I saw regret cross his face, but whatever that emotion was, it vanished too quickly. “I know,” he said, voice low and even. “We need to talk.”

Those words, so simple, sent a chill through me. I swallowed, refusing to let my voice shake. “Go on.”

“I’ve made a decision,” he said, walking toward me with a tired but stern look on his face. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his armor was still dirty in places. He looked like he hadn’t slept, like his nerves were totally shot. “I’m bringing someone else into this household,” he said. “Her name is Beatrice Blackwood. She has the king’s favor and powerful connections.”

I froze. My heart pounded in my ears. “You’re… bringing her here? As what?”

He let out a harsh laugh, like I was too stupid to see the truth. “She’s going to be my other wife,” he said, his voice dripping with scorn. “I’m making room for her because I finally know what I need.”

My stomach dropped as if I’d stepped backward off a ledge. “What does that even mean?” I asked, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. My heart hammered painfully in my chest. “We made vows. You promised me. We stood before everyone and—”

He cut me off with another bitter laugh. It felt like a slap to the face. “I used to think I knew what I wanted,” he said, looking at me like I was pathetic. “But now I see my real priorities. This arrangement will help us climb higher at court. And yes, I love her in a way I never loved you.”

The words hit me like a punch. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream, to shake him, to make him understand how hard I’d worked this past year, how I’d tended to his ailing mother, Margaret, until my hands were raw from washing linens and mixing tonics. How I’d managed the estate, paid servants from my own dowry, kept the halls lit and the kitchens stocked. How I’d prayed—yes, prayed in my own quiet way—that he’d return safe and proud, and recognize that everything I did was for him, for us.

My throat burned. “Your vows, your promises—were they lies from the start?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I didn’t really know who I was then,” he said. “Now I do. Just having her here has brightened my mother’s mood more than all your so-called care ever did. She’s earned the king’s trust, and that’s all that matters.”

I actually laughed then, the sound sharp and ugly. “Of course,” I said, voice shaking with disbelief. “A year of holding this place together, of spending my inheritance to keep it all from collapsing, and what matters to you is Beatrice’s influence and how she impresses your mother in a single afternoon. Do you even realize how absurd that is?”

His stare turned cold. He looked me up and down like I was a nuisance. “Don’t make a scene,” he snapped. “This isn’t a negotiation. You will accept her as my other wife. There’s no place for your protests. If you can’t handle that, that’s your problem.”

Something inside me began to crack open. I stepped forward, fists clenched, trying to hold onto the shreds of my dignity. “I want to meet her,” I said. “If you insist on upending my life, at least let me look her in the eyes.”

William’s expression darkened the moment I said Beatrice’s name. His jaw tightened, and suddenly his face twisted with rage. Before I could even register the shift, he swung his arm. The back of his hand connected with my cheek, hard. The impact rang in my head. I staggered, my vision blurring. There was a hot, stinging pain spreading across my left cheek, and I tasted blood on my tongue. It was so fast I didn’t even have time to raise my hands in defense.

Emma rushed forward with a horrified cry, placing herself between us. She raised her arms like she thought she could shield me somehow. “My lord, please!” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “You don’t need to do this! She only asked—”

William didn’t spare Emma a glance. He looked at me, his eyes flat and cold. “Stop talking about Beatrice like you’re equals,” he said through clenched teeth. “She doesn’t have the time or interest in a meeting with you. You’re not a threat to her. To be honest, you’re hardly relevant now. This will happen whether you agree to it or not. Keep pushing, and you’ll just make things worse for yourself.”

My entire head was spinning, like I had been caught in a violent storm. That slap—William’s slap—kept replaying in my mind, over and over. I felt Emma’s trembling hands trying to support me. I heard her sobbing, though at first it sounded distant, as if the entire world had gone silent. Then her cries grew clearer, like someone was turning the volume back up on reality.

“My Lady, are you all right?” she asked, tears streaming down her face. “Does it hurt? Let me get some ice—”