Poisoned Queen's Time Leap

The courtyard stones were cold beneath my knees as they forced me to the whipping post. Every noble in the castle had gathered to witness my humiliation—their queen reduced to a common criminal awaiting punishment. The autumn air bit through my torn dress, but nothing could compare to the chill in Carson's eyes as he watched from his throne, Avery draped beside him like a delicate flower.

"Twenty lashes for attempted murder," the executioner announced, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

I lifted my chin, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. "I am innocent," I called out, my voice carrying across the silent courtyard. "Your king has poisoned me for months, and now he condemns me for crimes I didn't commit."

Carson's jaw tightened, but he made no move to stop the proceedings. Avery placed a pale hand on his arm, whispering something that made his expression harden further.

The first crack of the whip split the air. Pain exploded across my back as the leather tore through fabric and flesh. I bit down on my scream, tasting blood as my teeth cut into my lip. The nobles watched in horrified fascination—some averting their eyes, others leaning forward with morbid curiosity.

"Confess your crimes," the executioner demanded between strikes.

"I have nothing to confess," I gasped, my voice weaker now but still defiant.

The second lash fell harder than the first. This time I couldn't contain the cry that escaped my throat. Warm blood trickled down my spine, soaking into what remained of my dress. Through the haze of pain, I caught sight of Carson's face—still cold, still unmoved by my suffering.

By the tenth lash, my vision blurred. The courtyard spun around me as I fought to remain conscious. Some part of me had hoped—foolishly, desperately—that Carson would stop this madness. That he would remember the woman who had stood by his side, who had helped him claim his throne.

But the man watching my torture wasn't the Carson I had loved. He was a stranger wearing my husband's face.

The twentieth lash finally came, leaving me collapsed against the post, my back a canvas of torn flesh and blood. The executioner stepped away, his work complete.

"Let this be a lesson," Carson announced to the assembly, his voice carrying no warmth, no recognition of what we had once shared. "Treason against the crown will not be tolerated, regardless of the traitor's station."

As guards dragged me toward the dungeons, I caught one last glimpse of Avery. She was smiling.

* * *

Thirty days in the castle dungeons changed me. The stone walls wept with moisture, and rats scurried through the darkness while my wounds slowly healed into raised scars. I had nothing but time to think, to plan, to let the last vestiges of love for Carson die in that fetid cell.

When they finally released me for the autumn hunt, I could barely recognize myself in the cracked mirror they provided. My face was gaunt, my eyes hollow. But something new burned there—a cold determination that hadn't existed before.

The hunting party assembled in the castle courtyard as dawn broke over the horizon. Carson sat astride his black destrier, magnificent in his hunting leathers, while Avery rode a delicate white mare beside him. She wore a gown of forest green silk that complemented her golden hair perfectly.

"Your Majesty," a groom said nervously, leading a modest brown mare toward me. "Your mount."

I accepted the reins without comment, noting how the other nobles gave me a wide berth. I was no longer their queen in their eyes—I was the woman who had tried to murder the king's beloved.

As we rode through the castle gates, Avery maneuvered her horse closer to mine. "I do hope you're feeling better, dear Rachel," she said sweetly, her voice pitched low enough that only I could hear. "Prison can be so... taxing on one's complexion."

I kept my eyes fixed ahead. "I'm quite recovered, thank you."

"Oh, I'm so glad." Her laugh tinkled like silver bells. "Carson has been planning the most wonderful coronation ceremony for me. Nothing too elaborate, of course—we wouldn't want to seem insensitive so soon after your... difficulties."

The barb hit its mark, but I refused to react. Instead, I urged my mare forward, leaving Avery behind.

Carson rode at the head of our party, every inch the king. When I drew alongside him, he didn't acknowledge my presence. We rode in silence for several minutes before I finally spoke.

"Do you truly believe I tried to kill her?"

His hands tightened on the reins. "The evidence speaks for itself."

"What evidence?" I pressed. "A convenient attack during your wedding feast? A wound that barely scratched her?"

"Enough." His voice cut through the morning air like a blade. "You're here as a courtesy. Don't mistake that for forgiveness."

I stared at his profile—the strong jaw I had once traced with my fingers, the lips that had whispered promises of eternal love. Now they spoke only of judgment and condemnation.

"You're right," I said quietly. "There can be no forgiveness. Not for what you've done to me."

For the first time since my release, Carson looked at me directly. Something flickered in his eyes—uncertainty, perhaps even regret. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"The hunt begins," he announced to the party, spurring his horse forward into the forest.

As we rode deeper into the woods, I realized this would be my last royal hunt. Soon, I would find a way to escape this nightmare—and Carson Woods—forever.