No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 88

The Queen couldn’t decide easily.
So I stayed close to her all day, gently encouraging her, nudging her toward courage.

The more time I spent with her, the more clearly, I saw her.

The Queen was fearful. She hid behind a mask of apathy, not because she didn’t care—but because she was terrified of failing once she took action.

“Things aren’t so bad now. I might not make Grandmother proud, but at least I’m not disappointing her.”

She wasn’t wrong. Marchioness Federica had long accepted that the Queen would never be happy in the way she’d once hoped.

That was why sorrow always lingered in the Marchioness’s eyes when she saw her. And the Queen, in turn, felt guilty whenever she saw that sorrow.

“Your Majesty… Her Majesty the Queen isn’t your mother.”

The Queen had been born to lead. I saw it at Josephine’s boating party—how easily she commanded loyalty, how naturally she embraced power.

Unfortunately, that thrill had only been allowed because the King hadn’t bothered to take it away.

It was like giving crumbs to someone capable of devouring an entire loaf—then convincing them that crumbs were all they ever deserved.

“The Marchioness’s dream ended the moment you chose to become Queen.
Did you ever consider her feelings then?”

I suspected that the Marchioness had been one of the reasons the Queen accepted the King’s proposal. Maybe the Queen wanted to escape the love that demanded she become someone she wasn’t.

The Queen gave a small nod.

“At the time, I just wanted to be free of Grandmother. And marriage… becoming Queen… was the only way out.”

“Then that decision must have shattered her hopes.”

Another reminder that love often led to ruin.

The Queen married the King to defy Marchioness Federica—to prove she wasn’t like her mother. She must have wanted the Marchioness to see it, to know it.

I didn’t know much about the Queen’s mother. But based on what little I’d heard, it wasn’t hard to imagine her nature.

Her father was rarely mentioned. It seemed her mother had built a home on love alone—and had died in childbirth.

The Queen was handed over to Marchioness Federica, and her father quietly faded from memory.

That suggested her mother had been innocent, gentle, and untouched by worldly desires.

I recalled how Penelope had once described the Queen with a dreamy expression—kind and unpretentious, she’d said.

As a girl, the Queen must have lived in imitation of someone she didn’t even remember—because she couldn’t bear to let down her grandmother’s expectations.

“But now, Your Majesty, you’re more than her granddaughter.
You’re the mistress of this kingdom.”

The Queen’s eyes brightened, pleased. Then, with a playful glint, she reached out and tapped my forehead with her fingertip.

“Flattery really suits you.”

“That wasn’t flattery, Your Majesty. I meant every word.”

“You mean, it’s the truth I want to hear.”

I instinctively looked away. The Queen didn’t seem upset, but I hadn’t expected her to see through me so easily.

“What are you going to do with all this affection from me?”

She teased, lightly brushing the back of my hand.

“You must want something.”

“I want Your Majesty to be happy.”

“And?”

She waved her hand, as if to brush away anything too polite.

“What does a happy Queen owe you?”

I hesitated.
A divorce from Edgar—that was something even the Queen could manage.
Someone like Edgar, a noble who’d shamed himself by earning money through trade, surely meant little to the King.

If the Queen gave me the chance, I couldn’t afford to miss it.
But… why did this feel like a trap?

“Your maid’s been saying some interesting things.”

“Ah…”

So Anna had done exactly what I expected—spread stories about Edgar.

“I hear you weren’t even allowed to use the Linton family seal.”

The Queen’s voice softened, smooth and suggestive.

“Shall I take his authority and give it to you instead?”

My heart, which had been pounding, slowly calmed.

She believed I sympathized with her because we were in similar situations.

Ricardo once said there were ranks even among illegitimate children.
The son of a duke and the child of a king—those fates were very different.

But did he know?
The role of mistress—no matter the house, no matter the rank—had no such hierarchy.
Even the lady of a kingdom was no different than the lady of a noble’s estate.

If the man didn’t give her power, she had none.

“No, Your Majesty.”

I had no intention of showing the Queen another path.
But I did need to make it clear—hers and mine were not the same.

“I want to divorce the Earl of Linton.”

“Divorce?”

The Queen’s brow creased.

“He stole something from me. I want it back—and then I want to leave him.”

“With a single word from me, you could claim not only what is rightfully yours, but also what once belonged to the Earl of Linton.”

“I don’t want what belongs to him.”

The Queen looked at me as if she couldn’t understand. And of course she couldn’t—she had desires. I didn’t.

“You’re… rather modest.”

I shook my head.

“I simply know my limits. Even if I had it, I couldn’t carry the weight. If something will only become a burden, I’d rather not take it in the first place.”

But the Queen could carry it. She wasn’t broken. Even if she regretted her decisions later, she had the strength to move forward.

That was the fundamental difference between her and me—I was stuck in place, while she still had momentum.

I believed the Queen would make the right decision. And by right, I meant a decision that didn’t involve lying to herself anymore.

“Then I’ll meet with His Majesty.”

She had made her decision.

“I know my limits, too. Mine just happen to reach farther than yours.”

I was more than willing to praise her pride.

The next morning, the Queen announced she would be paying the King a visit. The chamberlain looked worried and sent me a pleading glance, silently begging me to talk her out of it.

“It’s Her Majesty’s will. Your job is to follow it.”

At that, the chamberlain looked as if I’d betrayed him. He was one of Marchioness Federica’s people. So it made sense that his opinion of me had taken a sharp dive after I chose to ignore the Marchioness’s caution.

“Wouldn’t it be better to wait, since we’ve already sent word to His Majesty?”

When he tried to intervene again, the Queen looked to me.

“It’s been quite some time since we sent that word. If His Majesty is too busy to come, then it’s only right I go to him.”

Lifting her chin, the Queen stepped out of her palace with confidence. Her entourage was modest—just as I had advised. After all, it was just a wife going to see her husband. There was no need for a grand procession.

We rode a carriage toward the royal palace. I had already sent notice ahead that she would be arriving.

The palace was splendid—marble columns, gilded ceilings. The Queen, dressed in modest clothing, seemed to glow gold under the reflected light from above.

“Is His Majesty in the west wing?”

No one dared stop her as she made her way inside. The head steward, sweating through a forced smile, greeted us nervously.

“Your Majesty, His Majesty is currently at rest.”

“Take me to Karola’s quarters.”

Karola—the King’s mistress.

The steward, hearing her name from the Queen’s lips, could no longer even force a smile. He just wiped at his face with a handkerchief.

“Your Majesty, if you’ll wait in the drawing room, I’ll inform His Majesty—”

“You act like I’m going to harm Karola. She’s carrying precious seed, after all. Lead the way.”

Defeated, the steward lowered his shoulders and obeyed. He led us to a private section of the palace, one that wasn’t open to the public. It was laughable, really—there was a palace built just for the Queen, and yet the mistress lived here, within the royal residence.

He stopped in front of a door covered in ornate decorations. From inside, we could hear laughter.

“Open it.”

“Your Majesty, inside there’s—”

“Is His Majesty there? I wouldn’t know. I’m here to see Karola, and I don’t need permission for that. Open it.”

At the Queen’s command, the door was finally opened. The laughter inside stopped abruptly.

“Who—oh my!”

I gestured to the steward to leave. He nodded gratefully and made a quiet escape.

The room inside was far less luxurious than its ornate door suggested. It looked more like a cozy home than a royal chamber—handmade tablecloths, wooden furniture. The only truly grand thing was the size of the bed.

Of course, the wood used was likely the finest available. This was an illusion of simplicity—wealth in modest disguise.

“Alec, Her Majesty is here.”

Karola, standing at the bedside, pulled back the sheets and addressed the man next to her. The King sat up abruptly, then cleared his throat and straightened his clothes.

I stood behind the Queen and quietly observed the King.

He was… ordinary. Brown hair, no sharp edges to his features—but nothing striking, either.

Karola wasn’t a stunning beauty. If anything, Elodie would have better earned the title.

“Your Majesty.”

The Queen curtsied properly. I bowed low enough for my head to nearly touch the floor, then rose. The King tried to look composed, but his unease was obvious.

“I came to speak with Your Majesty regarding the debutante ball.”

“Ah, yes, the debutante… I’ve been very busy. Finding time has been difficult.”

Too busy wrapped in a mistress’s arms, apparently. The King must’ve realized his misstep, as his face stiffened.

“So, for something so trivial, you came barging into Karola’s rooms?”

“I wasn’t aware Your Majesty would be here. Since you’re such a busy man, I thought I’d have a cup of tea with her while I waited.”

An awkward silence filled the room. The King seemed angry, but he had no argument to make, and so he stayed quiet.

The Queen calmly seated herself at the tea table.

“I’ve found a planner for the debutante stage. She’s a commoner, so I’m here to request permission for her to enter the palace.”

“A commoner? A woman?”

“Yes. She was recommended by my lady-in-waiting, Lady Cecilia. I looked into her background—she’s quite renowned.”

The King turned to look at me. I curtsied again before speaking.

“Her name is Madam Penelope, Your Majesty. Several noble houses have trusted her with their events.”

The King didn’t linger on me. He scratched his chin with one hand while the other reached for Karola’s.

She took it easily, as if they’d done this a hundred times before.

“Have the lady-in-waiting leave.”

The Queen didn’t answer. She simply stared at their clasped hands.

“Your Majesty, there are rules in the palace. It’s improper for a lady-in-waiting to enter private quarters like this.”

Yet somehow, the Queen meeting her husband in his mistress’s bedroom was considered proper?

The Queen’s lips twisted slightly, then she glanced at me.

I bowed and backed out of the room.

“Lia?”

Someone was standing where the steward had been.

“Lord Ricardo.”

I used his proper title, mindful of where we were. Ricardo frowned slightly, then offered me his arm.

“I came to speak with His Majesty as well. But it seems we’ll have to wait. Since we’re both stuck in the same situation, shall we take a walk to pass the time?”

It wasn’t really a suggestion. Ricardo outranked me.

He was pretending—deliberately making it look like he was forcing me along, as if I had no choice.

“Let’s go.”

I placed my hand on his arm and walked beside him, wondering:

Just when did Ricardo start receiving personal summons from the King?

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