On her first night, she'd thought that she must have died. Nothing in the mortal realms could have been as good as this. She had a father and a mother who loved her, four siblings who cared for her, and an entire country of people who would willingly die for her.
She bounced up and down on her bed. Up. Down. Up. Down. She'd never had a bed that she could bounce on before. Up. Down. Up. Down. Finally, she flopped back onto the bed, a huge grin splitting her face in two. Being a princess must be the next best thing to being a goddess. It must be wonderful to be worshipped this way, to have all this money, all these lives at her disposal.
Warmth. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to be warm. How could she forget that? She hugged herself, hugged her secrets closer, her wonderful secrets, treasures now, not to be shared with anybody. Hers.
"Go to bed now, Princess Kalasin," the maid ordered, before leaving the room.
She frowned, already being in bed, althoughthe woman hadhardly seemed to care.
The door creaked open, and then Queen Thayet swept in. "I've just come to check on my wonderful daughter," she beamed. "It's so lovely to have you back!"
Her frown deepened. She wasn't Thayet's daughter, wonderful or otherwise. The smile slid from her face, and her heart hardened. This wasn't hers. None of this was hers.
That didn't mean that she couldn't have it.
"Ah, evening, Kally," King Jonathan greeted without looking up as I pushed open the door. "Can I do something for you?"
I licked my lips carefully, and wiped my sweaty palms on my dress (an action which would, I am sure, horrify the dressmaker. Briefly I revelled in the imaginary expression on her face). "It's more a question of what I can do for you, Sire," I purred in my most seductive tone, carefully locking the door behind me and slipping the key down my front.
His head shot up, and astonishment flew across his face. "Kally?" he asked, sounding horrified.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but I continued across the room, and positioned myself on the table in front of him. "Doesn't the almighty King ever get tired of his Queen?" I inquired, leaning forward to give him the best possible view for a man.
He glanced away, disgust clearly imprinted in his features. "Kalasin, what's wrong with you?"
My shaking fingers slid under his chin, and turned his face my way. He closed his eyes, so as to avoid the indecent view my location afforded. "You didn't answer my question," I informed him, teasingly.
He knocked my hand away. "Kalasin, stop this!" he ordered, getting to his feet.
It was time. I raised my eyes to his, amused at the confusion in his sapphire gaze. It was time to banish that confusion. Only the truth from now on. Delicious, painful, deceitful truth. "I'm not Kalasin," I told him triumphantly, smile curling over my lips, "does that mean I still have to stop?"
Jonathan of Conté froze.
A beautiful girl.
She was a beautiful girl. She had always been his beautiful little girl. After she had gone missing, he had torn aside the kingdom to look for her, exhausting himself day and night by using his Gift, his power as Voice of the Tribes and the Dominion Jewel. Nothing had worked.
And just as suddenly as she had vanished, so she reappeared, but different somehow. She'd had the very colour drained out of her with all the spells and torture, but she was the same Kalasin, she was still his little girl. No matter how much he hugged her, how much he kissed her and told her that she'd never go through anything like that again because he'd look after her better, he'd protect her from harm, it changed nothing. She never warmed to him. Sometimes, she'd look at him, and he'd see the sadness in her blue eyes. He'd see that she blamed him for letting it happen, and so he blamed himself.
He kept on blaming himself, for seven years. No matter how Thayet told him not to, told him that it wasn't his fault, he still blamed himself for destroying his beautiful little girl.
Only, it turned out that she wasn't his. And she had destroyed him.
"Oh, don't tell me you never knew," I purred, reaching out to caress his cheek with my hand. "You never knew that I wasn't your daughter? You never knew I'd replaced her?"
Of course he hadn't known. I'd taken great precautions to ensure that he wouldn't find out until this moment, this delicious moment that I had so anticipated, came. However, twisting the knife in his chest was a bit of pleasure on my part. I'd had to wait seven years for this, and I intended to enjoy every single second of it.
Jonathan's face was still in a mask of confusion, and slowly, anger began to contort his handsome features. "You..." he hissed.
Apparently he didn't have a name for what I was quite yet. It didn't matter. I laughed, though it sounded false even to my ears, and flicked my hair behind my shoulders, fixing a sultry pout to my lips. "What's wrong, Father? Don't you want me?"
His sapphire eyes narrowed to slits, and my heart skipped a beat. He ignored my questions, snarling, "What have you done with my daughter?" as he caught my wrist and closed his fingers around it.
Laughter escaped my throat again, and I darted out of his grip of steel. I feigned concern, placing my hands on my hips. "Oh dear, can the king not protect his own daughter from nasty people like me? Does the almighty, omnipotent King Jonathan of Conté not know how to tell his own daughter from a fake? Well, that is a problem, isn't it?"
He lunged at me, and missed, his anger making him clumsy. "I will have your head for my wall," he promised in a menacing tone.
"Will you now?" I asked carefully, changing my voice from the mocking cry it had just been. I lowered my lashes, fumbling with a small bag that hung by my waist, allowing him to come up beside me.
I took a deep gulp of air and squeezed my lids shut as I opened the bag. There was a thud.
I released my breath and opened my eyes, letting them fall on Jonathan's motionless body. "Sorry, Father, dearest. You were in the way, that's all."
