The Bridge Not Taken: Choosing Myself Over You

Two weeks later, King Samuel visited again.

My sister swapped me in once more, but this time, Samuel's spirits seemed low.

When I reached to loosen his belt, he stopped me, gripping my hand and guiding me to sit beside him on the bed.

After a lengthy silence, curiosity got the best of me and I looked up at him.

My brother and I had honed a unique skill from our days in seclusion—we could see better in the dark than most.

Under the moon's glow, his features were drawn tight, his eyes shadowed with fatigue, his profile strikingly noble.

Truly a vision, no wonder my sister was so taken with him.

I gently caught his hand, and as he turned to face me, I softly pressed my fingers to his brow, smoothing away the creases.

He remained still, seemingly relishing the calm.

Eventually, he lowered my hands and clasped them warmly in his.

"If all the ladies of this court were as comforting as you, my life would be easier," he murmured wistfully.

I stayed silent, merely sighing softly as I snuggled closer to him.

Soon, his hands began to wander, and reciprocating his advances, I finally loosened his belt.

This time, he took his time, savoring moments before we delved deeper.

The night took its toll on me; by the time he fell asleep, I was nearly overcome by fatigue. Thankfully, I awoke just in time.

Yet, despite my exhaustion, the next day my sister subjected me to a needle torture session as punishment.

They strapped me to a chair, shoved a cloth in my mouth, and proceeded to stab the tips of my toes with long needles.

The needles slid beneath my nails, severing the tender flesh that held them, twisting painfully deeper.

In no time, my face blanched, my body drenched in a cold sweat.

Afterward, Nanny Adams brought me a basin of salted water to soak my feet, to stave off infection.

My sister seemed pleased with my weakened state, her face losing its usual scowl.

"Jennifer, you were born unlucky, just like your mother. And you think you can charm the King? You're merely a stand-in. Any affection he shows is meant for me," she said with a smirk.

I didn't respond, though a part of me wanted to laugh.

If she was so sure, why did she always act as if I might steal her husband?

As soon as I had enough strength, I knelt before her, proposing I mimic her more closely.

"Sister, my brother's life is in your mother's hands. How could I betray you? But if I continue to ignore His Majesty, he might grow suspicious," I argued.

She kicked me squarely in the chest. "How long do you plan to play this game? You better conceive soon, you harlot," she snapped.

I pressed my lips tightly together—conceiving wasn't something I could simply will to happen.

Nanny Adams intervened swiftly, pulling her aside and whispering urgently in her ear, after which my sister calmed down and reluctantly agreed to let me practice her voice.