From where I stand in the garden I can see her face, pale and pinched. It is hateful to me.

The king speaks with me, taking care to listen to my words. I giggle and smile coquettishly, hoping he likes my new dress. It is cut specially to accent my bosom, which is one of my best assets. He keeps sneaking glances to my breasts, and when I caught him the last time, I got the satisfaction of seeing him blush. But I only smiled.

My plan is beginning to take effect. Already I have turned the queen against her husband by leaving clues of our (supposed) tryst. By his bed, I casually dropped one of my handkerchiefs, monogrammed with my initials and scented with violet. I am the only one of her court that wears violet, and she will surely know it is mine.

It was harder to convince the king of her infidelities. With my kisses and caresses, I paid the stable boy to spread rumors of the queen’s loose ways. It reached the king in no time.

Now it is only a matter of time. I sit in my web, patient as a spider. And wait.