Cassandra woke up with a start.
She gasped, air rushing into her lungs so fast, it burned.
Her hand went to her neck and her skin was shockingly warm to the touch, smooth and unmarred.
There was no wound there whatsoever, only her beating pulse under her trembling fingers.
She could still hear it.
The executioner’s sword cutting through the air. The crowd’s palpable excitement.
Her chest heaved as she willed her surroundings to come into focus. The room was pleasantly warm and smelled like lavender.
Slowly, she turned her head. The familiar canopy above her bed came into view. Cream-colored curtains on the windows and the floral wallpaper on the walls.
The carved oak bedposts her father had commissioned when she was sixteen.
The overflowing bookshelf on the wall and her writing desk by the window.
Everything was exactly as she remembered. Exactly as it had been before her life changed irrevocably.
Her breathing caught.
"Could it be..." The words had barely left her lips before she threw back the covers and stumbled from the bed.
Her knees buckled soon as her feet touched the floor but she caught herself against the bedside table just in time.
The floor tilted and her vision spun.
Bile rushed up her throat as she fought the urge to throw up the contents in her stomach.
Memories from that day assaulted her. The empty throne. The smile on John’s face as he watched from the crowd.
Queen Delphine...
Cassandra lurched toward a nearby washbasin. She barely made it before her stomach emptied.
She remained bent over the basin, shaking so violently she could scarcely stand.
Tears blurred her vision. Her entire body convulsed with emotions she had been too numb to feel on the scaffold.
Minutes passed before she managed to steady her breathing.
She gripped the edge of the basin until her hands stopped shaking.
"I’m alive..."
The words sounded weak, tentative. As though speaking them loudly might shatter the illusion.
A knock sounded at the door.
"My lady?"
Cassandra flinched, nearly stumbling backward.
"It is seven o’clock. Breakfast has been prepared." The voice belonged to Mary, her lady’s maid.
"Alive." Cassandra repeated under her breath, closing her eyes briefly.
"Lady Cassandra?" Mary sounded concerned now. "Are you unwell?"
Cassandra swallowed. "...One moment." To her own ears her voice sounded strained. Then before she could think better of it, she asked, "Mary, could you remind me of the date?"
"Of course, my lady." Mary said, her voice slightly muffled behind the door. But her next words were surprisingly clear. "March 18, 1812, My lady."
Cassandra felt a ringing in her ear as she processed Mary’s response. 1812. That was three years before her execution and it was also the very same year John proposed. The year she had foolishly fallen for him and his fake charm.
"Thank you. That will be all for now, Mary." Cassandra called back when she was certain her voice wouldn’t crack.
Three years. The ruler of the dead had sent her back three years to rewrite her destiny, to change the outcome of her poor excuse of a life and Cassandra intended to use the opportunity she had been given to the fullest.
She heard Mary’s footsteps retreat and silence settled over her once more.
Cassandra looked toward the window.
Morning sunlight had begun to creep across the gardens beyond Ashford House.
It looked impossibly ordinary but after all she had been through, she couldn’t help relishing the sight of it.
Her gaze drifted toward her reading desk that held a small stack of correspondence.
Without thinking she crossed the room. Each step felt heavier than the last. She stopped before the desk.
She remembered now. Her engagement banquet was set for two weeks from today.
Everything had started there, the very moment she had announced to the world that she was marrying John Ravenshire. If she was being completely honest with herself, her life hadn’t ended at the scaffold, it happened much earlier than that, right after John proposed to her.
She hadn’t known it then. She had simply been delighted that a man as polite, charming, and charismatic as John would soon become her husband. Her parents’ obvious fondness for him only reassured her that accepting his proposal had been the right choice. It felt as though everything had fallen perfectly into place, as though fate itself had smiled upon her.
How wrong she had been. Back then, she couldn’t have known what being married to a man like John could do to a person, how all he did was take and take until there was nothing left. How he purposefully made her a shell of the woman she once was.
Cassandra Ashford died before her execution. She died the moment she married John.
It was the beginning of every mistake that followed.
She sucked in a harsh breath and the memories came relentlessly.
John smiling as he asked about her day.
John waiting for her outside the palace after council meetings.
John bringing her books because he knew she preferred them to jewels.
John listening to her when she told him about her complicated relationship with her family.
She had believed he loved her.
No. Worse.
She had loved him.
It hurt because now she understood every moment with him had been calculated.
Every kindness. Every compliment.
Every touch. Nothing had been real.
Her hands curled into fists.
Not again. She refused to willingly bind herself to him again.
She pulled open the drawer of her desk.
Inside lay sheets of cream stationery.
She selected one, pulled back her chair and sat down.
For moments she simply stared at the blank page as she picked up her quill.
In her life she had spent years counseling the queen on legislation that shaped an entire kingdom. Yet somehow it felt like she had never written words more important than these.
The pen touched paper as she slowly scribbled the words.
Lord John Ravenshire,
After great consideration, I have concluded that our engagement cannot proceed.
I hereby withdraw my consent to the proposed union effective immediately.
I wish you every happiness in your future.
Lady Cassandra Ashford.
Nothing more. She gave no further explanation than that and left no room for negotiation.
She read the letter once before folding it neatly and sealing it with wax.
She was under no illusion that a single letter would be enough to dissuade John or her parents from this marriage, but it was a step in the right direction.
A sharp knock sounded again.
"My lady?"
Cassandra rose from her seat. This time her steps were steady and surer, like the woman she knew herself to be.
She opened the door and Mary smiled warmly.
"There you are. Your mother insists you join her for breakfast."
Cassandra looked at the woman who had served her since childhood. The woman was completely unaware that in another lifetime she had watched her mistress led away in chains.
"I need a courier."
Mary blinked. "Now?"
"Immediately." She held out the sealed letter. "Have this delivered to Lord John Ravenshire."
Mary lowered her gaze to the letter, then looked back at her mistress. Whenever Cassandra wore that expression, her jaw set with such grim resolve, Mary could not help but worry.
"...As you wish, my lady."
She accepted the letter. Disappeared down the hall.
Cassandra remained standing in the doorway.
The first move had been made. There was no turning now.
She gazed back toward her bedroom window, towards the skyline where the tall towers of Caldor rose above the capital city.
Somewhere beyond the palace walls, Queen Delphine was alive and unharmed.
For the time since opening her eyes, a flicker of determination replaced all lingering uncertainty.
She had been given another life.
She would not waste it.