As the horse began ruthlessly shaking her about, Misha began to scream internally. She didn’t need the knight’s warning. If she opened her mouth, she’d be spitting blood in moments. So, she did everything in her power to keep her screaming contained.
And so, less than two hours after receiving the letter, Misha left the home and forest she grew up in, entirely unaware how different her life would be when she returned...
The mansion itself was incredibly busy. The witch living in the depths of the forest, the lord’s own concubine, was coming to visit. Having come back from the battlefield gravely wounded, the lord was clearly in danger. Some kind of poison had entered the wound, preventing it from closing. It excreted an unsettlingly colored fluid, and the fever it caused drained his strength and robbed him of his consciousness.
The Witch of the Forest crafted incredible medicine. Maybe she would have the necessary knowledge to treat his wounds. For those who loved the lord, the witch was their last hope.
Of course, his wife, whose love the witch had all but stolen, was conflicted. There was no doubt that her husband would die at this rate, but she could hardly beg for help from the witch who had attracted her husband’s attention.
When she had learned she had been betrothed to the man she’d admired since she was barely old enough to walk, she’d been over the moon. Though there hadn’t been much passion to it, the polite and formal kindness he showed as he escorted her around as her fiancé had been a great source of pride for her. An object of adoration for all of high society, he was the younger brother of the crown prince, promised to one day assume the title of duke. Despite her loneliness when he’d left on his travels to see the world, their upcoming marriage on his return had made her heart dance for joy. She’d gone about preparing for the wedding like she was living in the clouds, and she’d fallen asleep every night clutching the infrequent letters he sent to her.
She had never expected he’d bring a woman home with him.
The witch was, of course, beautiful. Her hair almost shone gold, and her jade eyes reflected a deep mystique. She was also well-versed in the medicines of some foreign land. Her one failing was that she was a commoner, completely ignorant of the manners and customs of this country.
To the nobility, a marriage was a contract. Nothing so naive as “finding true love” would be enough to overturn a betrothal. The happiness—or lack thereof—of those involved had nothing to do with it.
She had been too fixated on the future she had imagined. Even when her fiancé had asked to dissolve their betrothal, even when her mother had insisted that she would never find happiness married to a man in love with another woman, she had stubbornly refused to give up on it. Marriage was a contract. If she stayed at his side, he’d no doubt grow weary of that country bumpkin soon enough.
Her stubbornness, combined with her father’s desire to tie their family to royalty, ended up winning the day; she became his official wife. The woman he brought back was relegated to being his concubine.
Having known her since they were both young, her husband had a deep affection for her, even if it wasn’t technically love. He made every effort to treat the two of them fairly. Still, that wasn’t enough to satisfy his wife.
It wasn’t odd for members of the high nobility to have multiple wives. The wife was expected to keep the concubines organized and manage the household. Having been raised as a noble herself, she had always known that fact. As she’d grown up, she’d both seen her mother experience a similar situation and watched her own half siblings be born of concubines, raised alongside her with no discrimination of status between them.
But this was different. Before they had married, he had wanted a woman for romantic reasons, not political ones; she herself had only become his wife for the latter. That seeded a deep insecurity in her.
What if...? she would dream. If it had been after they were married, she’d understand. If it had been after they had children, she’d understand. Maybe in those cases, she would have been able to accept the new woman a bit easier.
But that wasn’t what happened. Instead, driven mad by jealousy, she had begun to torment the concubine behind her husband’s back, knowing full well the witch had nowhere to run, bearing her suffering in silence as the harassment only continued to escalate. Scorned for her lack of knowledge of etiquette and manners, she sought out a teacher and made every effort to learn. She did everything she could to meet every unreasonable demand the wife brought on her, losing her chance to escape the wife’s hostility.
And then one day...
Berating the concubine as she always did, the wife snapped and threw her fan in anger. And receiving her scolding in downcast silence as she always did, the concubine braced for the fan to strike.
It was an unfortunate accident, everyone said. The fan just happened to hit the concubine in the eye. The shock sent her stumbling backward, when she just happened to be standing at the top of a grand staircase. The fall left her seriously injured—one leg, which had helped carry her everywhere in a nimble, graceful dance, was badly broken, never to recover the dexterity it once had.
Not long after that incident, the concubine left the mansion to live in the deep wilderness on the outskirts, never to show her face at their dwelling again.
For the first time since her marriage, the wife felt at peace. Her husband continued to treat her with the polite affection she was due, and the servants never spoke of the concubine in her presence. If she ignored how once a month her husband would vanish for a few days, only to return with heaps of rare medicines, she could live out her days in happiness.
But that was no more than covering up a wound that would never heal. Though hidden, it continued to fester, tormenting the wife ever more.
And now, after over ten years, the concubine had returned—for no other reason than to save her husband. No one could fault her for any agitation on her part.