With a sharp gasp, Jovine jolted forward, clutching her chest as if she could still feel the pierce of the blade within her heart.
But, it wasn't there.
The sound of cheerful chatter, clinking glasses, and lively music perforated her disordered senses, and when her surroundings finally came into focus, she was lost.
The Royal Banquet Hall. But, what was she doing there?
With her last memory being her own tragic demise, she couldn't make sense of the bright lights and the suffocating crowd of nobles blurring her vision. She couldn't remember anything else.
How she got here. How she was still alive. Nothing made sense.
Still clutching her chest, she clawed at her skin, still feeling the way the knife was embedded within her. Shaking uncontrollably, her breaths stuttered until it felt like her lungs would explode.
She couldn't breathe.
Just the way she couldn't as she dragged herself across the blood-stained floor, desperate to get to the door before life was ripped away from her.
She bent over, unconsciously ripping at her corset, trying to free herself of the overwhelming suffocation hell bent on taking her away from this world again.
Help me. Someone help me.
A warm hand settled over hers, the unforgiving pressure of it momentarily anchoring her.
"Empress?"
Richard's hard voice broke through the panic, but it brought her no semblance of calm.
It enraged her.
"Jovine, what's wrong? You're making a scene," he hissed under his breath, tightening his grip on her fragile fingers until the pain of it caused her to inhale her first full breath of air into her burning lungs.
Traitor. Bastard. You devil scoundrel.
Unable to bear the feel of his touch, Jovine wrenched her hand away from her husband's grasp. "Don't touch me," she bit out through clenched teeth, her voice sounding unsteady and venomous.
Without even looking at him, she could sense the shock rippling through the bewildered Emperor.
But, it didn't matter to her anymore.
Where there was once great affection and tender adoration for the man she had loved, there was now only pure disgust and fury.
Even now, she couldn't unsee the way he pleasured that wicked woman as Jovine laid in a pool of her own blood, reaching out for anyone to hear her. To save her.
Trembling from the flood of emotions tearing at her, Jovine blindly stood, needing to get out.
Distantly, she thought she heard Richard calling her name, but it didn't stop her.
Long rows of white-clothed tables filled with delectable dishes and a floor of dancing guests who were now staring at the stumbling Empress entered her unfocused gaze as she maneuvered her way towards any exit that would free her.
I need air. I need to breathe. I can't breathe.
The panic came rushing back.
What was happening to her? She had died, hadn't she?
Cradling her head between her hands, Jovine staggered into the nearest wall. She couldn't remember anything. Her memories were distorted. Gone.
She recalled every painful experience of loving and losing her husband. She remembered everything until the day Emilia Syrene was proclaimed as the Royal Concubine.
YOU ARE READING
Renouncing the Emperor's Heart
Fantasy"I no longer want you." Emperor Richard de Tristaine fumed as he looked upon the woman he was ready to abandon just a few weeks ago. "You don't mean that," he gritted out through clenched teeth. Empress Jovine smirked at the look on her husband's...
