Chapter 2 A Bucket of Ice Water
“Splash!”
A bucket of freezing water hit her square in the face.
Brielle struggled to pry her eyes open. Wasn’t she dead? Why, then, did pain still rack her body?
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Standing over her was an older maid dressed in a housekeeper’s stiff uniform. She dropped the empty bucket with a clatter, glaring down with undisguised malice.
“Enough with the theatrics and suicide threats. Lord Daniel doesn’t care for such dramatics. Look at you- for the love of the gods, what do you even have to offer And you had the audacity to steal the bride’s place? Did you truly believe the Clarke family was so easily infiltrated?”
Lilith Watson was seething. She had been looking forward to returning to her own humble dwelling to tend to her ailing mother, but now this shameless Brielle had pulled a stunt with her suicide attempt, trapping Lilith here to tend to her.
“You lived a comfortable life as the Whitmore family’s daughter, yet you chose to bring such disgrace upon us all. You’d have been better off dead.”
The torrent of yelling and complaints continued to rain down from above. Brielle glanced around the chamber, taking in the surroundings that felt foreign and disjointed. Memories that did not belong to her began to flood her mind like a rising tide.
Yesterday was supposed to have been the wedding day for Daniel and Donna. But this Brielle, unable to bear the thought of losing the man she loved, had taken a desperate gamble. She had disguised herself as the bride and, adding to her sin, burned a lust-inducing incense in the bedchamber, hoping to force a consummation and trap Daniel.
However, Daniel had sobered up at the crucial moment. In a fit of rage, he had summoned five or six guardsmen to handle the imposter.
Upon waking and realizing the depth of her shame, Brielle had dashed her head against the stone wall in despair, dying instantly.
The original owner of this body had loved him with a madness that bordered on obsession. Even now, Brielle could feel the phantom pangs of that regret and heartache lingering in the flesh.
She had not expected that she-the exalted High Priestess of Persandria-still had a path to walk. Her physical form had perished, but her soul remained intact. She had been reborn into the body of the Chancellor of Veridia’s daughter.
Just as she was processing this bizarre twist of fate, the vicious housekeeper shoved her hard. Brielle’s head struck the sharp wooden frame of the bed, sending a bolt of agony through her skull.
She gasped, reaching up to touch the wound. Her finger came away sticky with blood.
“You’re heavy as a draft horse. Who has the strength to move you? Can’t you take a hint? Did you honestly believe that just because you forced your way into the Clarke family, you would be accepted as our lady?” Lilith’s voice rose in volume.
Brielle clutched her head, the throbbing intensifying until the room spun.
The original Brielle had truly intended to end her life when she collided with that wall. The suffering was
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Chapter 2 A Bucket of Ice Water
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Seeing her motionless, Lilith reached down and pinched her arm viciously. “Are you deaf?”
Brielle winced, her brow furrowing in pain. She lifted her head, her gaze snapping up to meet the maid’s. “I may not be the lady of this house, but that does not grant you-a servant-the right to lay your hands on
“Furthermore, Lord Daniel has not cast me out yet. In the eyes of the law and the Church, I am still his wife. You are merely a servant in this manor. Who gave you the nerve?”
Lilith flinched at the steely glare. For a heartbeat, genuine fear flickered in her heart.
But she quickly regained her composure. After what Brille had done, if she were a commoner, she would have been buried in an unmarked grave without a second thought.
The only reason she still breathed was her status as the Whitmore family’s daughter. And she still dared to throw her weight around?
“Ha!” Lilith rolled up her sleeves. “I was attempting to show mercy by caring for you, and you repay me with insolence? Today, I shall teach you the rules of the Clarke family.”
Lilith grabbed Brielle by the shoulders, raising a hand to strike her cheek.
But before the blow could land, Brielle caught her wrist Her eyes were sharp, piercing. “You old crone. I see burst capillaries in your eyes and dark shadows ringing your temples. That is an omen of death. There is someone gravely ill in your home, are there not? Instead of tending to them, you stand here lecturing me on etiquette? In three days, when those shadows meet at the center of your forehead, you had best begin planning the funeral.”
Lilith’s face drained of color. How could Brielle possibly know about her sick mother?
Gazing into those fathomless eyes, a chill ran down Lilith’s spine. Something about Brielle felt… unnatural.
But she shook off the sensation quickly. This woman was a schemer; she was likely fabricating prophecies to frighten her. Besides, the only reason Lilith was confined to the manor was because of this very woman.
Lilith’s expression darkened. “Ha! It is you who carries the omen of death, not I.”
She swung her hand back down to deliver the slap.
Brielle caught her wrist again. Fighting through the dizziness, she forced herself up and slapped Lilith across the face with all the strength she could muster.
“Smack!”
The blow was resounding. Lilith’s head snapped to the side, and she stumbled backward, striking the sharp corner of the heavy oak table before collapsing onto the floor.
Pain twisted Lilith’s features, her hair falling in disarray around her. She pointed a trembling finger at Brielle. “You-you struck me!”
This woman possessed such strength.
“You attempted to strike me once, and now you try again? Did you truly take me for a coward?” Brielle’s voice shook with fury. “Even if Daniel divorces me, I remain the daughter of the Whitmore family. How
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dare a servant lay a hand on me? If I were to kill you this instant, it would be no more than you deserved.”
She gripped a heavy stool, brandishing it. Terrified, Lilith scrambled out of the chamber on her hands and knees.
What in the world was happening? Wasn’t Brielle useless
She had always been timid, shrinking from her own shadow. The only bold thing she had ever done was this farcical marriage, and she had been caught on the very same night, making her situation infinitely worse. She was clearly a fool. So why was she suddenly assaulting people?
Brielle’s eyes turned cold. A bully who preyed only upon the weak.
Just as Brielle was chasing her out with the stool, a delicate figure appeared in the doorway. Lilith immediately scrambled behind her for refuge. “Ms. Donna Whitmore, save me!”
“Brielle, why are you in such a rage?”
Before Brielle could properly identify the newcomer, the room began to spin violently again.
“Brielle!” Donna cried out, feigning panic. “Hurry! Assist my sister back to bed.”
This was the true bride Daniel was supposed to marry, the woman Daniel truly loved. Lilith dared not offend her. “Yes, yes, of course.”
Brielle sank back onto the bed, her head still foggy, her dress soaked through. A draft swept through the open door, and she let out a violent sneeze.
The original Brielle had died from the head wound; the body was frail. If she did not take care to restore it, she would suffer lasting consequences.
“Brielle, drink your medicine.” Donna looked the picture of concern as she held a porcelain bowl to Brielle’s lips.
The medicine touched her lips. Brielle’s mind was still swirling, and she swallowed a mouthful without thinking. But the moment the liquid slid down her throat, she knew something was amiss.
This medicine was tainted.
A cold gleam flashed through her eyes. She looked up sharply.
This was her half-sister, Donna, the woman who was supposed to be Daniel’s bride.
Donna’s eyes were rimmed with red, brimming with tears. Her voice dripped with solicitude. “Brielle, you must never do something so reckless again. That was treason against the King. I begged Daniel for an age. Fortunately, he relented and allowed you to remain as the lady of the Clarke family.”
A realization clicked into place in Brielle’s mind. A specific memory surfaced. The reason the original Brielle had taken the risk to impersonate the bride in the first place was because her beloved sister had
coerced her into it.
Without the real bride’s consent and assistance, how would she have ever dared to attempt it?
Poor Brielle had died believing her sister truly cared for her, that Donna had sacrificed her own wedding out of sisterly love.
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Brielle looked closely at Donna’s face.
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She had eyes that seemed perpetually flirtatious, brimming with moisture and feigned charm. Her lips were thin and sharp-a classic sign of ill fortune. A mole sat at the corner of her mouth, marking a jealous nature. But more than anything, her eyes lacked honesty; they swam with cunning. She was not a good person.
No wonder. Those watery, beguiling eyes were enough to fool anyone.
Being stared at with such intensity made Donna uncomfortable. The old Brielle had never dared to look anyone in the eye.
“Brielle? What is the matter? Drink the medicine.”
“I do not want it,” Brielle stated flatly.
But Donna would not yield. Her voice thick with feigned worry, she insisted, “Brielle, do not be difficult. At home, I indulged your whims, but this is the Clarke family. Behave yourself. Do not cause Daniel any trouble.”
She brought another spoonful of the dark liquid to Brielle’s mouth, trying to force it past her lips.
Brielle frowned and shoved Donna’s hand away.
She used barely any force, yet Donna collapsed to the floor as if she had been struck with great violence. The medicine bowl shattered against the stones.
At that precise moment, heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Donna reached out, deliberately placing her hand over the jagged shards of the broken bowl, covering her palm in blood.
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Chapter 10
I had saved the Chloe in the book.
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Fate Binds Me to Lord Clarke
