"A peaceful life," Imogen scoffed, her voice heavy with sarcasm, each word dripping with bitterness. "You still think I didn't deserve the title of Archduchess. You were always jealous, always so conceited. Why should I have refused when he came to me, of his own accord, and asked me to marry him?"
The venom in Imogen's words stung, but Jessamyn only sighed, her breath escaping in a slow, measured exhalation. She had known Imogen for years, had seen the depths of her ambition and the lengths to which she would go to claim what she believed was rightfully hers.
But standing before her now, Jessamyn could see clearly that Imogen had misunderstood everything. There was no reasoning with someone so consumed by her own delusions, someone who had rewritten history in her mind to justify every cruel and twisted act.
