Chapter 2: The Woman Called Rosaline

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Her name, I learned later, was Rosaline Everhart, and she was no ordinary traveler. She had been the most notorious noblewoman in the kingdom, the daughter of Duke Everhart, and once the fiancée of Crown Prince Aldric. Her reputation as a cunning schemer and heartless manipulator was well-known—even to someone like me, who rarely paid attention to court gossip.

But as I watched her struggle to eat the simple stew I had prepared, her hands trembling and her once-flawless skin marred by exhaustion, I couldn’t reconcile this image with the "villainess" I had heard about.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,” she said one evening, her voice carrying a hint of bitterness. “Exiled. Banished. Disgraced. Take your pick.”

Her confession was brief but sharp. She had been framed for treason, betrayed by those closest to her. The prince had discarded her, the court had turned against her, and now she was a fugitive, stripped of everything she had once taken for granted.

“And yet,” she added, her violet eyes meeting mine, “you, a man who owes me nothing, have shown me more kindness than anyone in that wretched court ever did.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t a hero or a noble soul. I was just a carpenter trying to live a quiet life. But something about her—her pride, her pain—made me want to help her.

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