The machine whirred to life, sending a violent jolt of electricity straight through my skull.

I screamed, thrashing against the leather straps.

"Hold her steady," the doctor instructed the nurse. "The projection is starting."

A blinding white light erupted from the metal nodes at my temples. The sterile walls of the operating room vanished, replaced by a massive, flickering hologram that hovered above my body.

The memory played out for everyone to see.

"Look closely, little bird," a cloaked stranger whispered.

The projection showed my younger self crouching in the dirt of the estate grounds.

"These mushrooms are too tiny," my younger self complained, poking the ground with a stick. "You promised big ones."

"And I keep my promises," the stranger murmured, his tone soft and coaxing. "There are bigger, prettier mushrooms in the forest far away."

"Mother says I shouldn't cross the line," the tiny version of me argued.

The stranger pointed a gloved finger toward the glowing magical boundary of the castle. "Does your mother know about the glowing caps? The ones that shine like stars?"

"No."

"Then it will be our secret," the stranger said. "But you have to leave the castle's barrier first. Will you come?"

My younger self nodded. She reached out, placing her small fingers into his palm. Together, they stepped through the shimmering ward, leaving the safety of the estate behind.

"That proves nothing," Lucien's voice cut through the haze in the operating room. "Show the rest. Show what she did to Seraphina."

The doctor twisted a dial.

Agony ripped through my brain. The projection warped, fast-forwarding through a year of darkness and torment, finally settling on a rainy afternoon.

The heavy iron gates of the Veyne estate loomed overhead.

"Let me in!" I screamed in the memory, banging my bruised, filthy fists against the thick wood. "I live here! I am Elara Veyne!"

A guard shoved me backward. I hit the cobblestones hard.

"Get lost, beggar," the guard snarled. "The Duke has no rat-faced daughters."

"Look at my eyes!" I pleaded, wiping mud from my cheeks. "They are the Veyne blue!"

"They are mud-brown from the filth on your face. Get out of here."

"Please!" I begged, tears carving clean lines down my dirty face. "I want my mother! I want my father!"

"I said, leave!" The guard raised his heavy boot.

"Halt!" a booming voice commanded.

Duke Alistair strode through the courtyard. He stopped short, staring down at my ragged clothes and hollow cheeks.

"Father," I whimpered.

He dropped to one knee, heedless of the mud staining his trousers. His hands grabbed my frail shoulders.

"Elara?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"It's me," I sobbed.

Alistair pulled me tightly against his chest. "You will once again be the only princess here," he vowed loudly, making sure the stunned guards heard every word. "No one will ever look down on you again. I swear it."

In the present, I turned my head slightly against the cold steel table. My father stood in the corner of the room, his jaw clenched tight. He refused to look at the screen. He refused to watch his own broken promise play out.

The machine buzzed louder. The pain escalated to a blinding throb, forcing the memory to shift again.

The grand parlor materialized above me.

I stood in the center of the room, scrubbed clean, wearing a stiff new gown that felt entirely foreign against my skin.

Duchess Evelyn patted the shoulder of a blonde girl standing beside her.

"Elara, this is Seraphina," my mother said gently. "We adopted her after you went missing."

"Hello," I said, offering a hesitant, hopeful smile.

"Welcome home, sister," Seraphina replied.

But as the projection magnified the scene, the machine caught a truth I had completely missed back then. For a fraction of a second, Seraphina's smile dropped. Her eyes narrowed. Pure, unadulterated jealousy flashed across her delicate features before she buried it behind a sweet facade.

"She has been a great comfort to us," Evelyn continued, turning toward the tall boy standing by the window. "But since you have returned, the betrothal naturally reverts to you."

Lucien stepped forward. He closed the distance between us and took both of my hands in his.

"You are back," Lucien said softly.

"I am," I whispered.

"I will make up for everything you missed," he promised, kissing my knuckles. "I will make you a true princess again. We will have the wedding we always dreamed of."

My past self beamed, her heart full of naive hope.

The projection flickered.

I forced my heavy eyelids open. Lucien stood near the operating table, his eyes locked on the fading image of his younger self.

His rigid posture faltered. A flash of hesitation crossed his sharp features. His lips parted slightly as he stared at the screen, a strange, dazed look washing over his face.

Did he remember that day? Did he feel the weight of the lies he had fed me?

"Lucien," I gasped, the leather straps digging into my bleeding wrists. "You promised me."

He blinked. The vulnerability vanished instantly, replaced by a mask of cold fury.

"Push the machine further," he ordered the doctor. "Find the poison. Find where she hid it."

"I didn't do it," I choked out.

"Turn the dial," Lucien snapped.

"Lord Ashford, the neural pathways are overheating," the doctor warned, his hands hovering over the control panel.

"Do it."

The doctor twisted the knob.

A spike of pure electricity shot straight into my brain.

My spine arched off the steel table. A scream tore from my throat, loud enough to rattle the surgical trays.

The projection shattered into violent static.

Black spots danced across my vision. The hum of the machine grew deafening, drowning out the frantic beeping of the heart monitors.

"Stop!" the doctor shouted. He slammed his hand onto the main switch, killing the power.

The metal nodes sparked against my temples. I collapsed flat onto the table, my limbs going entirely numb.

"What are you doing?" Lucien demanded.

"The neural strain is too high," the doctor argued, ripping the wires from my head. "Her heart rate is crashing."

"Restart the extraction."

"I cannot, Lord Ashford," the doctor stated grimly. "If we probe any deeper right now, she will die. Her brain is hemorrhaging."

The room spun. My breathing turned shallow, each inhale tasting like copper.

I turned my heavy head toward Lucien.

He stared down at my limp body. Silence stretched between us. I waited for a sliver of mercy. I waited for the boy who had kissed my hands in the grand parlor.

"Then lock her up," Lucien finally said, his voice entirely devoid of warmth.

A tear slipped from the corner of my eye.

"Throw her in the dungeons," he continued, turning his back on me. "We will continue the extraction when she recovers a bit."

The darkness pulled me under, wrapping my mind in a suffocating embrace. But as my eyes closed, one chilling truth remained clear. Next time they turned that machine on, I wouldn't survive it.

Cold, damp stone pressed against my cheek.

I opened my eyes to absolute darkness. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my skull, a brutal reminder of the memory extraction machine. I dragged my heavy body forward, my fingernails scraping against the rough floor of the dungeon.

"Water," I croaked.

I reached the iron bars and wrapped my bleeding fingers around the freezing metal.

"Please." My throat felt like sandpaper. "Just a drop of water."

A guard stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even look at me.

"Did you hear me?" I whispered.

The guard turned his head toward the heavy wooden door at the end of the hall. "The princess is awake!" he shouted to the upper level.

"Help me," I begged.

He scoffed, turning his back on my cell. "Save your breath, rat."

Heavy footsteps echoed down the stone stairwell. The cell door swung open with a screech of rusted hinges. Two new guards stepped inside.

"Get up," the first one ordered.

Before I could move, they grabbed my armpits and hauled me off the ground. My legs gave out instantly. They didn't care. They dragged me out of the dungeon, my bare toes bouncing off the jagged stone steps as we ascended.

Bright, artificial light blinded me.

The guards tossed me onto a narrow examination table. I blinked against the harsh glare, my eyes watering. The stench of rubbing alcohol filled the small clinic room.

Lucien stood near the door, his posture rigid. Duke Alistair and Duchess Evelyn flanked him.

"Strap her down," Lucien ordered.

Nurses rushed forward, securing thick nylon belts across my wrists and ankles.

A doctor stood by a metal tray covered in sharp, gleaming instruments. He checked the monitors beeping frantically next to my head.

"Lord Ashford," the doctor began, his voice tight with hesitation. "Are we proceeding with the induced abortion?"

The word slammed into my chest like a battering ram.

"Abortion?" I gasped.

I twisted my neck, looking wildly from the doctor to my mother.

"My baby?" I asked, my voice trembling. "I'm... I'm pregnant?"

Evelyn stepped forward. Her pristine gown brushed against the metal table. "Do not speak of that abomination as if it is a child."

"Mother, what are you saying?"

"You have no choice in this matter," Evelyn stated, her tone pure ice. "The procedure will happen immediately."

"No!" I thrashed against the straps. "You can't take my baby! Father, tell her!"

Alistair refused to meet my eyes. He stared at the blank wall above my head.

"Seraphina saw you," Evelyn continued.

"Saw me do what?"

"She saw you mating with rogues in the border woods," Evelyn said. "She witnessed your disgusting display. The mutt in your womb is a bastard. It is a stain on this family."

"That's a lie!" I screamed. "Seraphina is lying!"

"Do not slander your sister," Alistair bellowed, finally looking at me. His eyes held pure disgust.

"I haven't been past the borders! I haven't touched anyone!" I turned my frantic gaze to the tall man by the door. "Lucien. Tell them. You know it's yours."

Lucien stepped into the harsh overhead light. His jaw was locked tight.

"Mine?" he scoffed.

"That night after the solstice gala," I cried, tears spilling over my cheeks. "You came to my chambers. You said we didn't need to wait for the wedding."

A muscle jumped in Lucien's cheek. "A desperate fabrication to save your bastard pup."

"You kissed my neck! You told me I was your true mate!"

"I would never touch a traitor," Lucien growled.

"You did! You know you did!"

"If she keeps it, the Ashford and Veyne names will be ruined," Evelyn told him, ignoring my pleas. "The scandal would destroy Seraphina. She is already fragile from the torment Elara put her through."

"Please!" I shook my head wildly, my wet hair slapping my face. "I have never been with anyone but you, Lucien! Please, let me keep my baby!"

Lucien stared down at me. He offered nothing.

"I swear I will leave this country with him!" I sobbed, pulling at the restraints until my skin tore. "I will take the baby and leave! I will never come back! You will never see me again!"

"Start the surgery," Lucien ordered the doctor.

"Lord Ashford, her vitals are crashing," the doctor warned. "Her body is entirely too weak to handle an induced miscarriage right now. She might not survive the shock."

"I said start."

"Lucien, no!" I shrieked.

Lucien leaned over the table, his face inches from mine. "Perform the surgery. And do not use anesthesia."

The doctor dropped a scalpel onto the metal tray. It clattered loudly. "My Lord?"

"I want her to pay for her body's betrayal," Lucien said, his voice slicing through my screams. "And she will pay for her bullying of Seraphina."

He straightened up and turned toward the door.

"Lucien! Come back!"

The heavy door clicked shut behind him. Alistair and Evelyn followed, leaving me alone with the medical staff.

"Hold her down," the doctor commanded.

Two nurses grabbed my knees, forcing my legs apart.

"Don't touch me!" I fought with every ounce of strength I had left. The metal frame of the table rattled violently. "Don't hurt my baby!"

Cold metal slid between my thighs.

Agony ripped through my center.

A scream tore from my lungs, vibrating off the sterile walls. It felt like a knife carving out my insides.

"Please stop!" I begged.

The doctor didn't look at my face. He twisted the instrument.

Fire exploded in my abdomen. My spine arched off the table. Blood pooled beneath me, warm and thick, soaking into the thin paper lining the mattress.

My baby. My innocent child.

The heart monitors screamed, a frantic, high-pitched wail that matched the ringing in my ears.

"Heart rate is dropping rapidly!" a nurse shouted.

"Clamp the artery," the doctor ordered.

Another blinding wave of pain crashed over me. My vision tunneled. The bright white lights above fractured into gray shards.

I stopped fighting the straps. My hands fell open.

As the blackness rushed up to claim me, the agonizing physical pain morphed into a hardened spike of pure hatred in my chest.

*I will kill them.*

The thought echoed in the fading silence of my mind.

*I will make them bleed for my child. I will tear their lives apart.*

The monitors flatlined, and the world went entirely dark.

***

A strange, unnatural warmth began to pulse deep within my chest, weaving through the fading beats of my broken heart. Death had come for me, but something else was answering the call.