In the Duke's household, the main chambers reeked of incense and sweat, with hot and heavy air hitting anyone who entered in the face.
As the moonlight spilt through the silk curtains, a figure dressed in funeral white clothes with long black hair veiling her face drifted in.
The scene before her made her toes curl in disgust as she rubbed her arms, trying to check the non-existent goosebumps she felt rising.
The dead see more clearly than the living, and she wished she could not see right now, but before her in the bed was her husband tangled with a concubine, their bodies slick with sweet huffing and puffing over each other as the bed creaked wildly beneath them.
She felt nothing, no embarrassment or sadness, just pure disgust.
It had been three months since she'd died after her husband poisoned her, as she learnt later as a ghost roaming the capital.
Her name carried shame because of their slander and the Noble families warned their daughters not to end like her buried without honor.
She didn't feel vengeful because of her death but for her unborn child who had gone with her.
Now she haunted this room, night after night, watching the man who murdered her rut like a beast in heat.
"Still staring at these pitiful pairs of cheaters?" Ling'er teased, appearing at her side.
Her former maid, dead now too, hovered with a smirk. Mischief in her tone but deep in her dead eyes was grief for her mistress.
The girl in the bed, barely sixteen, moaned loud enough to make the servants standing at the door blush.
Mei flinched not out of modesty but flinched because she remembered being that girl. She'd made those same sounds once, to stroke his fragile ego back when she'd believed the Duke's love for her.
Now she saw the truth. He grunted like a butchered pig, and she wondered how she had ever been so blind to have loved him as much as she did.
"Ten breaths," Ling'er said. "Same as last time."
A ghost of a smile touched Mei's lips she didn't know when she'd started keeping score.
Her former husband collapsed next to the concubine, and she didn't want to be looking at the two of them, so she drifted to the ancestral altar.
They shoved her spirit tablet behind the family's. No one offered her incense, prayers, a child, or honour, and it was at the back dusty and forgotten, just like they forgot her.
Despite their situation, Ling'er was very mischievous. It looked like she enjoyed being a ghost more than she enjoyed being a mortal. Although she was cheerful when she was alive, now she was extra cheerful.
She twirled midair. "This is boring. Let's haunt the palace. Your sister's seducing the Emperor tonight."
Mei paused, her eyes flickering. Sun Rui. Her half-sister. Born of a concubine, favoured by their father, now climbing the palace ranks, she had always been very manipulative, and Mei was sure she was thriving in the palace.
"Not interested," she muttered.
"Liar," Ling'er said, floating closer. "You want to know why the Emperor's number one on The List, don't you?"
Mei froze.
The List. That filthy little ranking of the capital's men, rated by bedroom skill created by her own maid, who she considered now as a younger sister.
To make it worse, her ex-husband was second to last.
"There's something else," Ling'er whispered. "The palace is changing. There's a dark energy coiling through it. Something hungry."
Mei hesitated. The palace was the last place she wanted to go. It held every broken promise Rui had stolen. But there was something in Ling'er's voice she didn't want to ignore.
"Lead the way," Mei whispered.
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Western Empire – Citadel of Yvenna
Leonora Glen Cato closed her eyes. Death was closer than her next breath.
She wasn't afraid.
It was better to die than stay alive and married to the bald, old, greasy man whose only redeeming quality and virtue was the crown on his head.
She will let Sionara have him her former friend always loved shiny prizes.
Her family was gone, and she died of the plague, which now looked like it would consume her as well.
The king and his whore had plotted to infect her with plague.
She'd lasted this long out of spite.
She knew she was close, but she didn't want to die alone. It would be an insult to her family and the powerful line of women she hailed from, so she tugged on the iron chain on her ankle, and it finally snapped.
She didn't know why. For three weeks, she'd pulled against it. It only gave way now after she'd stopped trying.
Maybe vengeance gave her strength.
She stood.
Her muscles were stiff, and she vowed she would not die before making them regret everything.
The castle had guards surrounding it, but her tower remained deserted. They left thinking was now a corpse.
She slipped out, each step pulling her toward the king's chambers.
The path she was walking on now was the same path she walked hand in hand with her husband before he changed into the man he was now.
It has been six years as queen, and they loved for her fairness and hated for her empty womb.
This would be her last walk through these halls.
She reached the king's chamber The door stood open. Her husband sprawled inside like a fat toad. His mistress curled beside him, draped in silk nightgowns.
She leaned over, gathered the phlegm from her diseased lungs, and spat on both their faces.
They woke in horror.
She stood over them, hair matted, eyes bloodshot, hands black with rot. Like a demoness that came solely to drag them to hell with her.
She smiled, knowing that she was their worst nightmare.
The king screamed.
Leonora turned without a word. Her vengeance was done.
She returned to her room. Guards scattered like rats at the sight of her avoiding her like a plague.
Her body failed as she reached her bed.
She collapsed, staring up at the canopy where she'd once dreamed of children, of peace.
Screams echoed from the king's quarters. She smiled.
Wherever I go next, let it be better than this, she whispered, her eyes closing.