On the day my husband ascended the throne, he granted me the title of Alexandra, the Imperial Consort. He declared that I was the one who held his heart. Yet within the opulent walls of this palace, I was not alone. Zarah Bourbon, Wilma Spencer, and countless other beauties vied for his affection, each one a delicate flower in the garden of his desires. But his heart—his heart was like a durian, spiked and impenetrable, with a different woman perched precariously on every thorn. When James Windsor announced the decree to crown the Chancellor’s daughter as Queen, I was in the palace playing cards with the other concubines. The maids brought the news, and the other three women froze, their eyes fixed on me in disbelief. But I just kept playing, eating snaps like nothing had changed. “What are you all gawking at? It’s the dealer’s turn!” I said with a cheerful smile. Wilma Spencer, clearly distracted, drew a card and played it clumsily. But she couldn’t hold back and finally asked, “Alexandra, are you… alright?” “It’s always been like this. If it weren’t the Chancellor’s daughter, it would have been someone else.” I hesitated for a moment before replying. Under their admiring gazes, I smiled even more brightly, as if I were genuinely happy for James, completely unfazed. Soon, the grand wedding of the Emperor and the new Queen took place. James gave her great honor. The city was adorned, and all the provinces sent congratulatory messages. I gazed at the magnificent Queen Hall, and James’s words from our wedding echoed in my ears: “Alexandra, I will never betray you in this lifetime. Only with you by my side can I truly be happy.” But in the end, he demoted me from queen to consort, allowing another to take the primary position. The new Queen was only sixteen years old. When the concubines paid their respects to her, she ordered everyone to rise, except for me. The young girl, full of youthful vigor, her phoenix hairpin dazzlingly bright, looked at me with disdain: “So, you’re Alexandra Hemming? The King’s first wife?” She emphasized the word “first” heavily, intending to humiliate me. My expression remained unchanged as I lowered my head. “Your Majesty, I dare not presume. It’s just an old, irrelevant matter, not worth your concern.” “It’s good that you know your place. You were merely fortunate to meet the King in his troubled times, and yet you managed to become an Imperial Consort.” She seemed pleased by my submission and continued to speak more freely, “Born into a lowly merchant family, no wonder the King wouldn’t let you raise the Crown Prince. Imagine if he were tainted by your vulgarity!” Her words done, and the room fell silent. My nails dug into my palm, but before I could speak, James entered, fresh from court. He was strikingly handsome, and the young ladies blushed at the sight of him. The new Queen, Wilma Spencer, ran to him, clinging to his arm with a coquettish tone: “Your Majesty, Alexandra was disrespectful to me.” I didn’t look at James, keeping my gaze lowered as I awaited my punishment. The new Queen’s family was powerful and influential. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, protect me. I felt his gaze linger on me for a long time before I heard him say, “Alexandra was indeed wrong to disrespect the Queen. She will be confined to Windsor Palace for half a month to reflect on her actions.” I accepted the decree with thanks, my forehead hitting the floor so hard it turned red. Rising under the sympathetic gazes of the other concubines, I walked back to Windsor Palace, one step at a time. The palace gates were locked. I dismissed the servants and sat alone on the swing in the courtyard. Gently swinging my feet, I seemed to return to the past. The days when we were newlyweds, full of love and affection. There was a time when James and I shared moments of pure joy, where laughter echoed through the halls and the world seemed ours alone. But time, relentless and unforgiving, slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, and no matter how tightly I tried to hold on, I couldn’t keep him.
Half a month passed in the blink of an eye, and the gates of Windsor Palace finally reopened. James walked in, seeing me reading. He sat down beside me. “Alex…” I ignored him, he forcibly pulled me into his arms, taking the book from my hands. “Look at me.” “Alex, must we be like this? I’ve just ascended the throne, and my position is unstable. This is the time I need the support of the ministers the most. Can’t you endure a little longer for my sake?” James’s voice was filled with frustration, and finally, even a hint of grievance. I looked up at him, my gaze cold. “James, I’ve been enduring ever since you were brought back from Sunningdale and titled King of Lennon.” “I endured when you took those noblewomen as concubines. I endured when you took my newborn child and gave him to Zarah Bourbon to raise. I endured when you married your new wife with her illustrious background and demoted me to consort. What more do you want me to endure?” My questions forced him to release me. The pain in my heart came in waves, and now, all I felt for him was deep disappointment. For ten years, I was bound to him in marriage. In the early days, when our love was a blazing fire, we welcomed our daughter, Anne Windsor, into the world. But as the years passed and he ascended to the throne, the weight of his crown settled between us. In the midst of his newfound power and the establishment of his royal household, our son, Johnny Windsor, was born—a symbol of a love that had once been unbreakable, now strained under the demands of a kingdom. Johnny was only three days old when Zarah suffered a miscarriage shortly after entering the King’s household. Her constant despair displeased her family, so without consulting me, James handed Johnny over to Zarah to raise. My child, whom I had labored over in pain for a day and night, was taken from me while I lay weak and unconscious. Now, he only recognizes Zarah as his mother. When he learned to speak, walk, and call for his mother, I was like a stranger, a mere observer of someone else’s happiness. … I couldn’t bear to think of those painful memories any longer. I pulled away from his embrace, moving far from him. “James, let’s just set each other free. Perhaps then we could both find some happiness.” His eyes reddened as he looked at me. The tension was broken by a timid, childish voice, “Mother, I’m hungry…” It was Anne, who had returned from playing outside. At six years old, she hid behind the curtains, peeking out with wide eyes at James and me, watching us argue. I forced a smile, gently stroking her head. “The egg custard has been simmering in the small kitchen, just waiting for my little foodie. Why don’t you go wash your hands with Nanny first?” She nodded enthusiastically, then hesitated, glancing between James’s stern face and mine. Finally, she tugged at my clothes, “Mother, Father hasn’t visited in a long time. Can you stop arguing, please?” My heart sank, and James’s expression also stiffened. When Anne was born, he wasn’t the King, nor was he the Duke of Lennon. I wasn’t just another consort in his vast harem; I was his only wife. That’s why Anne always called him Father. James softened his expression and hugged Anne. “Be good, Anne. When you grow up, don’t be like your mother—ignorant of what’s proper and ungrateful!” After saying this, he gave me a glance before striding away. “Mother, what did Father mean?” Anne asked, frightened by his harsh tone and shrinking into my arms. “Nothing at all. Tell me, what did you and Nanny do in the Imperial Garden today? Tell me all about it.” I held her close, gently patting her back. Hearing this, she was easily distracted. “Mother, I met a new friend today. He’s amazing; he can fly…”
It seems that what I feared most has come true. When Wilma Spencer heard that James had visited me, she stormed into Windsor Palace with a group of maids and guards. “Alexandra Hemming, you miserable wretch!” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “You may be old and withered, but you still cling to power through your daughter, desperate for favor even now!” Wilma, towering above, glared down at me before barking at the guards, “Take Princess Anne to my residence!” Anne was seized by several hands, and after a moment of shock, she burst into tears, screaming for her “Mother.” I tried to stop them, but the maids bound my hands and feet, pressing me to the ground. “Mother? I am your rightful mother! She’s just a consort with no backing, you foolish girl!” Wilma sneered before sweeping out of the room, her yellow skirt trailing behind her. I hastily wiped away my tears and rushed to the State Hall. “What’s going on?” James, who was reviewing documents, frowned as he saw me disheveled and panicked. Desperate, I clung to his sleeve as if it were my lifeline. “James, please, let Wilma return Anne to me.” “Alex, I always wondered when you’d call me by my name again, but I never thought it would be for this.” Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, and I couldn’t hear what he was saying. “Anne is all I have left, James. Please, bring her back to me…” “Wilma just likes children. She’s only having Anne stay at Queen’s Hall for a while,” he said, cupping my face with both hands. “Besides, Alex, I should be your only concern, shouldn’t I?” “So, you knew she would take Anne?” He avoided my gaze, instead trying to pull me closer for a kiss. “Stop being stubborn, Alex. Stay here with me, and we can have more children together. Then you won’t have to withhold even a glance from me.” I felt a wave of nausea and raised my hand to slap him hard across the face. “James, you disgust me!” He was stunned by the slap, his gaze turning icy as his face hardened. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “Guards!” she commanded, her voice cold and imperious. “Lock Lady Alexandra in Windsor Palace. She is to be given only one meal a day, and no one is to attend to her needs. She will remain there in isolation until she confesses her sins and acknowledges her wrongdoing.”
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