The Night I Set the Fire

After my daughter was born, I began to see Serena differently.

It happened slowly.

Not as forgiveness.

As recognition.

At the full-month celebration, my old friends praised my fortune.

A daughter first, then surely sons to follow.

A stable position.

A respected husband.

A rival consort with no child.

I smiled because I knew how.

But when Serena came to see the baby, she did not look jealous.

She looked terrified.

“Did it hurt?” she asked.

I laughed lightly.

“Of course.”

Then, without warning, I began to cry.

No one had ever asked me that.

Not Leon.

Not my parents.

Not the Queen.

Everyone asked if the child was healthy.

No one asked if I had been afraid.

Serena panicked when she saw my tears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s nothing.”

She asked to hold the baby.

I let her.

She held my daughter awkwardly, like a sacred object she was afraid to break.

When the baby cried, Serena nearly dropped her back into my arms.

That was the moment I knew.

This woman was not my enemy.

She was a girl trapped in a world that had mistaken her beauty for consent.

Years passed.

I gave birth twice more.

The palace praised me as fortunate.

Leon remained attached to Serena.

Serena remained childless.

Then Celia came to me, weeping.

She was pregnant.

The child was Leon’s.

She had served him while I was carrying my second son.

Leon already knew.

He had sent her to beg me.

I arranged a courtyard for her.

Servants.

Medicine.

Protection.

I was generous.

I was always generous.

That was what Leon liked about me.

Serena watched me with haunted eyes.

Later, she invited me to her palace to see orchids.

I was resting in the inner chamber when Leon arrived.

Serena went out to greet him.

I heard his voice.

Soft.

Possessive.

Then a sound that made my skin tighten.

Serena said, “Don’t.”

I moved toward the screen.

Through the gap, I saw Leon trapping her against the wall.

He kissed her neck.

She turned her face away.

He held her tighter.

She slapped him.

His lip split.

For a second, I thought he would rage.

Instead, he smiled sadly.

“Serena, don’t be angry.”

She backed toward the bed, searching beneath the pillow.

Leon’s face darkened.

“Don’t look. I removed them. I dislike sharp things near you.”

Sharp things.

Hairpins.

Knives.

Anything she could use on herself.

He stepped close again.

“That night with Celia, I was drunk. She wore the pale blue you like. I thought she was you.”

Serena laughed coldly.

“Why explain? I don’t love you.”

Leon’s expression broke.

Then hardened.

“You do.”

He seized her.

She fought like a wild thing.

“Let me go!”

He pushed her onto the bed.

“Serena, you love me. You loved me before. We were happy.”

“I hate you!” she screamed. “I hate you, Leon!”

He forced something between her lips.

A pill.

A drop.

A spell.

I do not know.

Her struggling weakened.

Her eyes clouded.

Then her arms rose and circled his neck.

I stood behind the screen, cold sweat soaking my back.

For the first time, I saw Leon clearly.

Not as husband.

Not as prince.

As jailer.

As I fled the inner chamber, I knocked over an oil lamp.

Or perhaps I did not knock it over.

Perhaps my hand was steadier than I later pretended.

Flames caught the curtain.

Smoke filled the palace.

Servants screamed.

“Fire! Fire in Consort Serena’s palace!”

I slipped into the chaos and returned to my own chambers.

Then I emerged with the expression of a proper Crown Princess and began ordering water lines.

That was the first fire I set in the palace.

It would not be the last.