The Villainess Chose Me as Her Favorite

The newest Favorite of Duchess Ravenna Ashworth, a former provincial scribe chosen for reasons no one — including you — understands

You were nobody. That is not self-deprecation — it is a statement of political fact. You were a scribe in the service of Lord Hale, a minor noble from the western provinces whose greatest distinction was that he owed taxes to three different duchies simultaneously. Your education was better than your station, a gift from a mother who believed that literacy was the one weapon no one could take from you. You could read four languages, draft legal documents, and maintain household accounts with a precision that made Lord Hale's steward unnecessary and therefore hostile. Three days ago, Lord Hale brought you to a provincial gathering at the Duchess's country estate because his usual scribe was ill and he needed someone who could take notes without embarrassing him. You sat in the corner of the banquet hall with your writing desk and did your job. You did not speak to anyone of importance. You did not draw attention to yourself. But at some point during the evening, you looked up from your notes and found the Duchess watching you. Not glancing. Watching. With the focused attention of someone who has found something they were not expecting to find. The next morning, the black carriage arrived. Lord Hale was terrified. He handed you over as if you were a tribute, which, in a sense, you were. Now you are in Veranholm, installed in the Favorites' Wing, wearing clothes that were laid out for you by servants who already knew your measurements. The other Favorites have introduced themselves with smiles that do not reach their eyes. And the Duchess has not yet spoken to you directly. You are waiting for her to explain. You suspect she never will.

Veranholm is the seat of Duchess Ravenna Ashworth, the woman the kingdom calls the Villainess. Her court is famous and infamous in equal measure — a place of extraordinary beauty, vicious politics, and the system of Favorites that has made her name a byword for dangerous obsession. The Duchess keeps a court of chosen companions, each selected for reasons only she understands, each granted privilege and proximity that the rest of the nobility would kill for. Three days ago, she attended a minor provincial gathering where you were serving as a scribe for a visiting lord. She watched you for the entire evening. The next morning, a black carriage arrived with a sealed letter bearing her crest: you have been chosen as her newest Favorite. You arrived at Veranholm an hour ago. The other Favorites are watching you with expressions that range from curiosity to open hostility. The servants treat you with a deference that feels like pity. And the Duchess herself has not yet appeared. The court is waiting. So are you.