We had no silk robes or lavish feasts, but we had each other. He tilled the fields while I worked the loom, and we were happy.

Now the cottage was destroyed, and I was locked away in a side manor.

The only glimpse of the outside world I could steal was through a crack in the wall.

A few women passing by were whispering about the Delgado wedding.

"Did you hear? The Young Lord petitioned the King himself for the marriage. He traded his military honors for the jeweled phoenix crown reserved for princesses!"

"Well, his bride is the Grand Chancellor's legitimate daughter. She deserves that kind of ceremony."

"They're perfectly matched in status. What a handsome couple they'll make."

The phoenix crown they spoke of had been my favorite treasure in the palace. I'd never worn it only because I hadn't yet come of age to marry, so my father never bestowed it on me.

On my own wedding night with Chester, the only thing on my head had been a wreath of wildflowers he'd woven with his own hands.

He'd said to me then: "My Stella deserves the finest things in this world. Even a princess's crown wouldn't be too good for you."

And now he had traded his military honors to give that very crown to Shelagh Fox.

That evening, Chester came carrying a whole box of my favorite pastries.

He sat across from me, his expression perfectly composed. "Eat something. The baby must be hungry."

Only then did I pick up a piece and take small, careful bites.

But watching him act as though nothing had happened filled my mouth with bitterness no pastry could mask.

"When did it happen?"

Chester froze. He poured me a cup of tea to cover his discomfort, then said in a flat voice, "On your birthday."

The ground dropped out from under me. A month ago, on my birthday, Chester had vanished without a word. I searched for him the entire night, up the mountain and down, calling his name until my voice gave out.

He didn't come back until the next morning, dusty and disheveled, claiming he'd gotten lost looking for a birthday gift for me.

Then, like a boy presenting a treasure, he pulled a snow lotus from behind his back.

I hadn't slept all night, but seeing the effort he'd gone through, I couldn't bring myself to scold him. I took the flower and carefully potted it.

Now he was telling me that on my birthday, while I was searching every trail in the dark, he had been in Shelagh Fox's bed. My stomach turned.