A Witch Lives In The Emperor’s Bedroom

All the World's a Stage

All humans are merely actors upon the stage called the world.

Therefore, I perform—even if that role is witch.

Once in a Century

Once every hundred years, the Ratus Empire births what they call a "witch." Transcendent magic. An appetite for slaughter that doesn't quit until a thousand corpses pile up—or so the stories go. So when the witch's day comes around again, they round up every woman ready to drop a baby, lock them down tight, and kill the witch the moment she draws breath.

The day had come around again.

I could die. Long as I take them with me. The ones who'd spent years grinding her down, methodical as a whetstone. "Isabella"—adopted into the White family as a child, and they'd made sure she earned that charity. Every single day since. Sweet. Stupid. The mask she wore while sharpening her hate underneath. Then one day, the rage cracked through her skin, and she woke up something else entirely.

She'd awakened as a witch.

Become the Grand Duchess

Grand Duke Genos Perdian played the Emperor's loyal dog with such conviction you'd almost believe it. Almost. Underneath, something else entirely—something patient and hungry. Marriage negotiations were already underway with the deep-pocketed White family's daughter when he witnessed Isabella's awakening. Watched the witch-mark bloom across her like blood through water.

He made her an offer, clean and simple: "Become my Grand Duchess. Help me take the throne."

Isabella looked at the hand extended toward her and saw exactly what it was—a weapon she could use. The White family had taught her about transactions, about what bodies were worth. She'd learned the lesson well.

She took his hand. Revenge, after all, required pragmatism.