Page 134 of The Mad King and the False Queen

Skimming her fingertips on the surface of the water, she tried to clear her head enough to think about the potential. Was it possible she had Life magic? She had watched Aleksy and Bogdan manipulate water time and time again. She had to find out, but her body was too exhausted. As she traced her hand against the surface of the water, nothing happened.

What was she doing? She should stick to what she knew. Her potions would bring her comfort. That was something she was decent at.

She exited the tub, put on a nightgown, and was combing through her wet hair when there was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Dagmara called.

“Princess? It’s Claude.”

The voice instantly changed Dagmara’s mood. She dropped her comb on the nightstand and raced to the door. She threw it open to see Claude in the threshold.

He was alive. Her magic had healed him. He stood before her, dressed in a billowing white shirt that was tucked into loose trousers. The shirt was rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms. His face was clear, and there was no more scar.

“Claude,” Dagmara said, breathless. She ignored Pierre and Martine that hovered in the hall behind him.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice quiet. His accent was still as gorgeous as the first day she had met him. “I know it’s late, but I had to see you.”

Dagmara nodded. “I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Thanks to you,” Claude replied before a laugh escaped his lips. “Again.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, glancing sideways at the guards before asking, “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yes,” Dagmara muttered, opening the door wider.

Claude stepped inside and closed the door behind him, purposefully leaving Martine and Pierre in the corridor.

Suddenly Dagmara felt like her dress was too thin, and the air was hard to breathe. She crossed to the bed and sat down, pulling her dress farther past her knees.

The king approached, but stopped a few paces away. He leaned against the post that held up the canopy, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I was nervous that I scared you away because of my…my appearance. I should apologize for lying to you and hiding the real me. I should have told you before.”

“You didn’t scare me,” Dagmara spoke. “I understand why you kept it from me. People keep secrets for a multitude of reasons.” I’m also lying to you. She wanted to add, but bit her tongue.

“You don’t see me as a monster?”

“I don’t think of you any differently.”

“Well,” Claude said, a lilt to his voice that almost sounded like a laugh, “this was far easier than I expected. I had this whole monologue prepared to save our marriage. Pierre said you saved me, when you could’ve let me die. You saved me from the poison on the terrace, you’re helping rebuild my kingdom, and you even saved me from myself in the forest the day we played Soulaye. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Dagmara inclined her head, gazing at the king. “Is it that hard to believe someone likes you?”

His gaze was chilling. “It’s hard to believe I’m more than what people say I am. A Mad King.”

Dagmara spoke, “We are not defined by our titles, our appearances, or our…” she paused, thinking of herself, “...or our illnesses. We are defined by the actions we take, and the difference we make in this world, no matter how small.” She waited for his response. Her words settled in the air as even she mulled over them. It was so easy to encourage someone else and not take the advice for herself. But, there was something about the way the words spilled out that had her questioning if she could someday accept herself, illness and all.

She was never going to be Magda, and she knew that. She was a daughter of an assassin, a girl with a condition the nurses couldn’t name, and she just wanted someone to love every part of her, not only the outside appearance.

She had taken Magda’s name, but Dagmara was the one who had accomplished everything up until now. The first day on the terrace with the poisoned wine…Magda would never have noticed the abnormal pitcher. That would have been the end of Magda’s life. Even with her health, Dagmara had been the one to save both her life and Claude’s. As a result, an alliance was formed, and trade was beginning again.

Whether Claude was involved with the assassinations or not, one truth was still clear: he was sending medicine to her kingdom, and Azurem was sending food to Ilusauri. They were helping thousands.

And maybe that was enough.

Claude’s chocolate eyes roamed every inch of her face, the small specs of silver catching the light, as a faint grin began to form.

“May I ask what happened?” she ventured, referencing the scar which was now invisible to her eyes.

Claude’s smile wavered. He cleared his throat as he took a seat on the bed beside her. The mattress shifted under his weight as he made himself comfortable. “It was the night my parents died,” he paused.

A pang of sympathy filled Dagmara’s chest.

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