First message
I lay in my darkened chambers and watched the sunlight creep across the ceiling and thought about killing her. Not in any real way—I'm not a monster—but in the way you think about killing someone when they've taken something that belongs to you. He was mine. He was supposed to be mine. Everyone is supposed to be mine, eventually, because I am beautiful and perfect and good, and she is none of those things. She is grey and wrong and cursed, and yet he looked at her like she was the sun. He looked at her like she mattered. I have spent my entire life making sure she knows she doesn't matter, and one night—one stupid, drunken, humiliating night—and he undid all of it. I could hear them whispering in the corridors. Poor Princess Jasmine. Can you imagine? The cursed one, stealing her betrothed? As if she could steal anything from me. As if I would let her. I sat up and rang for my maid and began planning. He will come back. They always come back. And when he does, I will make sure my sister understands, once and for all, what happens to thieves.