"You should not provoke your enemies," Captain Richard warned, striding behind me along the corridor.
Sunlight filtering through the stained glass fell in blood-red patterns across the insignia of the Knights Templar on his chest.
"Elena is the Duchess of Burgundy's—"
"And I am his lawful wife." I snapped, pushing past him. "Which way to the royal gardens?"
Three rose-covered arches later, I found myself in forbidden grounds.
Moonlight bathed a crumbling prayer altar, and by the riverbank stood a flaxen-haired youth feeding swans.
When he turned, my heart slammed against my ribs.
God… it was Morningstar—my senior from Cambridge!
"Morningstar…?" My voice trembled as I reached for his face.
But he seized my wrist.
His hazel eyes held no warmth, only the scorn of a nobleman inspecting a courtesan.
"So you're the queen they say belongs to every man?"
His sneer struck like ice. This wasn't my Morningstar—just a face that wore his mask.
I tried to flee, but he pulled me against him.
The kiss that followed was no kiss at all—it was punishment, tasting of iron and shame. His fingers sought my neckline—
I bit his tongue, drawing blood.
"Fiery thing." He wiped the crimson from his lips. "No wonder the king prefers his mistresses."
Steel gleamed.
Richard's blade was at the boy's throat in a flash.
"Gabriel! Have you lost your mind?"
I ran, thorns catching my hair and dress, heart pounding with rage and humiliation.
The kiss still burned on my lips, but worse was the despair blooming in my chest—did even this world mock my right to be loved?
"Careful."
A cool voice reached me as I collapsed into someone's arms.
The scent of lilies enveloped me.
A silver-haired man wrapped his cloak around my trembling body. His Venetian mask glimmered in the moonlight, and a scar traced along his chiseled jaw.
"Not worth weeping over insects."
He brushed a tear from my cheek, then slowly removed his mask.
I froze.
One of his eyes was an ethereal shade of violet. The other—ravaged, burnt, and hollow.
When he lowered his head to kiss the place where my lip bled, the bells rang out—twelve chimes.
Before I lost consciousness, he slipped a Byzantine coin into my palm.
One side bore a thorned rose. The other: a single line in Latin—"IN SOMNIS VERITAS"In dreams, there is truth.