Chapter 1
In the thirty-first year of the Aurelian dynasty, the first deep winter snow fell through the night, covering every trace of the bloody palace coup from the day before.
With the new King on the throne, Charles Ashton, his most trusted ally, was elevated to the realm's highest office: Lord Chancellor.
His first act as Chancellor was not to consolidate the new regime, but to dispatch guards to surround the private estate of Edward Holmes, the Royal Attendant.
No one knew what happened inside Holmes Manor. It was only seen that at dawn, a carriage was ushered out from a side gate, its course set directly for the Ashton Manor.
From that day onward, I went from being the Royal Attendant's wife to the Chancellor's kept woman.
That night, in the bridal chamber, a candle sputtered.
Charles gripped my chin roughly. "Anna Sinclair," he said, his voice like ice. "For wealth and status, you left me for Edward, a man who could never function as a true husband."
He stared at me, his eyes red-rimmed.
"Now that you are in my grasp," he said, each word as cold as winter, "do you regret it?"
Swallowing a sob, I held his gaze.
"Never," I said.
Even if given a hundred chances to begin again, I would choose the same path without hesitation.
*****
In the thirty-first year of the Aurelian dynasty, with the new King on the throne, Charles Ashton, his most trusted ally, was elevated to the realm's highest office: Lord Chancellor.
His first act as Chancellor was not to consolidate the new regime, but to lead soldiers in surrounding the private estate of Edward, and take me to his own residence.
Inside the Ashton Manor, the underfloor heating radiated an intense warmth.
I was huddled on the cold floor as a pair of black boots came to a halt before me.
After a long silence, a low, mocking chuckle sounded above me.
"Anna. Three years apart, and you have grown even more... pliant," he remarked.
His voice was cold and sharp, like blades of ice cutting into my heart.
Charles towered over me, his gaze cold and disdainful, as if I were something filthy beneath his notice.
"What? After three years serving Edward, you find your place on the ground? Has servility become your second nature?"
I raised my head and stared at the man before me.
Time had carved away all youth from his features, leaving only a cold severity and an oppressive air of authority.
I had never imagined our reunion would be like this.
There was no tearful, storybook reunion, only a cold standoff between two wounded hearts.
Who would have thought this ruthless man was once the boy next door, my childhood companion, the one to whom I was destined, pledged from infancy?
In those days, Blossom Lane was adorned with cherry blossoms.
My father often joked that this match was well-made, that Charles would be bound to me for life.
While other children learned to call for their parents first, he spoke my name.
But now, when he spoke it, his voice held nothing but scorn and hatred.
At my continued silence, Charles leaned down, his fingers deliberately tracing the line of my jaw.
His touch was icy, sending a shiver through me.
"Speak," he commanded. "Or has that life left you so altered that you've lost the voice for a whole man?" Charles sneered.
I lowered my gaze, hiding the sting of tears in my eyes.
"You are right. I chose disgrace myself, and I dare not argue," I replied.
With a sharp crack, the cup shattered beside my knees, and scalding coffee splashed onto my hand, blistering the skin at once.
"Fine. You are quite skilled at this game," Charles sneered. "Do you truly believe I will not kill you?"
A large hand clamped roughly around my chin.
Charles forced me to look into his eyes, which blazed with fury.
They held seven years of hatred, a violence that seemed ready to consume me.
"Anna, sometimes I cannot tell," he said, his voice cold. "Was it all for wealth and status, or do you truly care for Edward? But either way, you are beyond redemption."
Seeing the pain on my face, a flicker akin to pity crossed Charles's eyes.
He leaned in, our eyes locked, our breaths mingling.
"Tell me, Anna," he said, his voice low. "In these three years, was there ever a day, a minute, even a second, when you regretted it?"
In that moment, time seemed to fold. I was back in the snow seven years ago, hearing that boy's desperate cry echo around me.
I swallowed my tears, forced a pale smile, and gave him the same answer as seven years before. "No regrets," I said, my voice steady.
Even if I were given a hundred chances to start over, I would choose the same path.
With those words, the last light in Charles's eyes faded.
"Why?" he murmured, his voice barely a breath.
Because of love. Such was the power of love that it could drive the living to embrace death.