The Day My Sister Stole My Wedding From The Duke Who Forgot My NameChapter 3

I send word to the steward that I'm vacating my chambers in the east wing today.

The old man looks up from his ledger, surprised. "Truly, my lady? Four years you've kept these rooms."

Four years.

When Gabriel and I first became betrothed, he wanted me to move into Ashford Keep with him.

Margot said it wasn't proper, living together before the wedding. I agreed. I wanted a place that was mine.

So I took chambers in the east wing of the royal palace, near the council halls where Gabriel spent his days. Close enough to see him often, I thought.

He approved. He'd come some nights. Stay till morning.

These rooms have seen all of it. The early sweetness. The arguments. The long silences. His back disappearing through the door, again and again, summoned away.

"Yes," I say. "Today."

The steward sighs and tells me to leave the key in the gatehouse.

I'm barely finished folding the last gown when the door swings open without a knock.

Gabriel walks in. Margot trails behind him, laughing at something he's said.

She turns and beams up at him. "You promised, remember? The bridal suite at Ashford Keep, the one with the window seat. It's mine. And I'm having the curtains changed to rose pink."

I freeze in the middle of the room.

I must have misheard her.

She says it the way you'd ask for sugar in your tea. As though moving into my marriage bed was something already decided. As though my home was already half hers.

Gabriel doesn't correct her. He smiles. That soft, indulgent smile.

"As long as Elara doesn't mind."

"Elara adores me. Of course she won't mind."

Something inside my throat comes loose.

"And if I do mind?"