Jocelyn Reed

Jocelyn Reed entered the palace during Aurelian’s first selection.

He told me to handle the process.

“Choose a few,” he said. “Whoever seems harmless.”

Harmless.

That word should have warned me.

I selected several women from respectable families.

Not too powerful.

Not too foolish.

Not too beautiful.

Jocelyn was not the most stunning among them.

She was soft-eyed, graceful, careful with every word.

A harmless girl.

So I thought.

After her first night with Aurelian, she was promoted.

After the second, promoted again.

Soon, he went to her palace every night.

The other women came to me bitter and frightened.

“High Consort, Jocelyn is too arrogant.”

“His Majesty no longer visits anyone else.”

“Please advise him to share favor equally.”

I did try.

Once.

Aurelian listened with a faint smile and said,

“Seraphina, must even affection be managed like court accounts?”

The answer, in a palace, is yes.

I did not say it.

At first, I told myself this would pass.

Men had favorites.

Kings especially.

A new face, a soft voice, a little novelty.

Why should I care?

But Jocelyn did not remain content with favor.

She wanted victory.

The first trap came in the royal garden.

We had gathered to view spring blossoms.

One consort developed a pollen rash and was sent back. Two others began arguing over some petty insult. I stepped forward to stop them.

Then someone stumbled.

Water splashed.

I fell into the lake.

So did Jocelyn.

For a breath, all I saw was green water and pale sleeves.

Then I saw the flash of imperial yellow.

Aurelian had jumped in.

My heart leaped with stupid hope.

He swam toward Jocelyn.

Not me.

Jocelyn.

I tried to rise.

Something tightened around my ankle.

Water weeds.

I struggled.

My lungs burned.

Above the surface, someone shouted.

I clawed at the weeds until my fingers went numb.

Just before darkness took me, arms wrapped around my waist.

Briar.

My guard.

My maid.

My sister in every way except blood.

She dragged me from the lake.

I coughed water onto the stones while Aurelian held Jocelyn in his arms.

Then came the accusation.

“She pushed me,” Jocelyn whispered.

I lifted my head.

“What?”

Aurelian looked at me.

I knew that look.

He believed her already.

“Seraphina,” he said, voice low with fury, “if anything happens to Jocelyn, I will not spare you.”

“I did not push her.”

“I saw you.”

“No. You saw what she wanted you to see.”

His expression hardened.

That was the beginning.

The beginning of locked doors.

Whispered accusations.

Physicians delayed.

Servants questioned.

My words weighed against Jocelyn’s tears and found lacking every time.

I did not know then that she had already stolen more than his attention.

She had stolen my past.

She had convinced Aurelian that she was the girl from the southern river town.

The one who fed him.

The one who brought the physician.

The one who saved his mother’s final days from hunger.

No wonder he chose her in the water.

In his mind, he was saving the girl who had once saved him.

And I?

I was only the woman he had used to become king.