She was regal even in death. Though life had given her the peasant’s share, she’d always courted nobility.
And in turn, nobility courted her. For a King set his sights on her. A flare for modesty was ill suited to him, but neither was marriage or his various concubines.
And yet the spell she cast soothed his wandering eye for weeks.
He was mad for her and she for him. They both lost their heart’s in a bonfire of passion. And they lost their heads at the altar of infidelity. And the guillotine was their only salvation.