Chapter 2

The sky was heavy and gray on my wedding day, like it couldn't decide whether to snow or not.

There wasn't any grand procession, no joyful music, and no cheering crowds.

Instead, four porters carried me out through Evans Manor's side gate in a plain little sedan chair.

Freya didn't even bother to see me off, and Victoria stayed in her own courtyard as if my bad luck might rub off on her.

The only person who came after me was Bella, pressing a small bundle into my hands.

"My lady, there's some bread inside," she said, her voice shaky with worry. "Eat them on the road."

I nodded and didn't look back.

I knew I'd fall apart right then and there if I did.

Edward's home, Ashford Mansion, turned out to be even bigger than I'd imagined, but it was also far quieter and more unwelcoming than I'd expected.

Flowers hung everywhere, yet there wasn't a trace of joy or celebration.

The servants all kept their heads down and hurried past without daring to meet my eyes.

I was brought to the bridal chamber and perched on the edge of the bed, waiting for Edward, the cold-hearted prince everyone was terrified of.

The wait felt endless.

I sat there from dusk until dark, and then from dark until deep into the night.

The candles were nearly burned out when the door finally swung open.

A gust of cold air swept into the room.

I kept my head down, staring at my own folded hands, too scared to look up.

Footsteps came closer and stopped right in front of me.

"So you're the Evans substitute bride?" Edward said, his voice cutting through the silence like ice.

I nodded.

"Look up," he ordered.

I took a deep breath and slowly raised my head.

Then, I froze.

It wasn't his face that threw me off.

It was the glowing number floating right above his head.

Favorability: 100.

I blinked, convinced I was seeing things.

I looked again. Still 100.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from that number because my brain refused to process it.

100? The favorability was 100? For someone who'd never even laid eyes on me before? That couldn't be right.

That was the highest number I'd ever seen in my entire life.

Even Bella only had 85.

And this was Edward, the guy everyone swore was a merciless killer who was supposed to despise me, and he had a 100 floating over his head?

I thought I had to be hallucinating, or maybe my ability was on the fritz.

"What are you staring at?" Edward's brow furrowed, and his voice turned even colder.

I dropped my gaze fast, my heart pounding. "N-nothing."

He fell silent for a moment.

Then, he spoke again with the same icy tone, "Don't think marrying me changes anything. This mansion doesn't keep freeloaders."

Favorability: 100.

I sneaked another peek at the number over his head.

It hadn't budged. Still 100.

"Don't show up in front of me unless you absolutely have to," he said coldly.

Favorability: 100.

He turned to walk out.

"And one more thing," he added without looking back. "You'll be in the west wing. Move there tomorrow. This room is mine."

Favorability: 100.

The door closed behind him.

I sat there on the edge of the bed, staring at that door, completely unable to snap out of it for a long time.

What the hell was going on?

*****

The next morning, I moved to the west wing.

That part was the most isolated corner of Ashford Mansion, sitting three courtyards away from the main courtyard.

As the servants carried my luggage over, they kept giving me these pitying looks.

One of them said, "Don't let it get to you, Your Highness. His Highness is like this with everybody."

I nodded and didn't say anything.

I didn't take it to heart at all.

I was just confused.

Why did Edward have a 100 floating above his head?

That night, I lay in bed tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

The number 100 was burned into my brain, and no matter what I did, I couldn't shake it.

The third day came, then the fourth, then the fifth. Nothing changed.

A whole month went by, and I didn't see Edward even once.

The west wing was so quiet that it felt like a deserted palace. Nobody came around except the maid who brought my meals every day.

Finally, I asked her. "Lily," I said, lowering my voice, "is Edward... always like this?"

Lily blinked in surprise. "What do you mean, Your Highness?"

"You know... like this?"

Lily gave me a small, amused smile. "You really have no idea. His Highness is like this with everyone. He never warms up to anyone, he never lets anyone get close, and to be honest, he doesn't think anyone's worth his time."

I nodded.

So what was the deal with the 100 above his head when he looked at me?

I wondered if my power was broken.

Or maybe 100 didn't mean favorability. It meant something else entirely.

I racked my brain, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't figure it out.

Then one night, something strange happened.

It was brutally cold. I wrapped myself in my blanket, shivering like crazy.

The west wing had run out of charcoal days earlier. Lily had tried to get more, but she came back saying the storeroom told her that our share was already gone, and we'd have to wait until next month.

I curled up under the blanket, trying to stay warm, my teeth chattering.

Right as I was about to drift off, I heard a noise outside.

I opened my eyes.

In the moonlight, a tall shadow appeared on the window.

The figure stood there for a moment and then vanished.

I figured I was seeing things, so I let it go.

But when I woke up the next morning, I was stunned.

There was a pot of charcoal in the room, burning bright and putting out real heat.

I looked at the charcoal pot and then glanced toward the window.

Who was that shadow last night?

I didn't have an answer.

But in the evening, my room felt as warm as spring.