To Lydia

Two years have passed since Micah married Angella, and became the first king of Bright Moon in five hundred years. I find it a cruel irony how our fates ended up. He was once a pauper and became a royal, while I was a queen of Mystacor, but am now little more than a slave.

Sometimes, I almost wish I told him my identity. Micah is hellbent on destroying me and the Horde; we have crossed paths since his marriage, and each time has been varying degrees of unpleasant. I am most afraid that he will try to kill me, and I will be forced to harm him instead. And that is the most terrifying reality I can think of – one where I don't have his best interests in mind.

Micah keeps associating with Nell. I have mixed feelings about this friendship of theirs. On the one hand, Nell was one of the most tender people I knew, and perhaps he could care for Micah in a way I cannot. But on the other, he is a spineless coward. I find grim satisfaction in the knowledge that one day, he may betray Micah. Then the Meyan king will know how I felt when he abandoned me.

I speak bitterly of Nell, and bitter I am. But some days, I still fantasize about his crystal-blue eyes, so much like my sweet Adora's. I even pretend sometimes that we did make love on one of the nights when we slumbered together in my bedroom, when he would come to me to escape his father. I remember him resting his face against my neck, his breath warm on my skin as he held me. I was his comfort, and he was mine.

But it is foolish to wish for what I can never have. Nell's career, and his father – the father who grotesquely scarred his back – were more important than me. Me, the woman who loved him more than anything else in the world. What does it say about me?

What did I do wrong, all those years ago?

- Shadow Weaver