Chapter 2
After a moment, Damian finally looked up at Helena, his voice gave nothing away.
He said, "Gracelynn is new in the palace and unfamiliar with the rules. As the queen, you should be more understanding."
With that one sentence, he dismissed the issue with barely a second thought.
Helena's face shifted between pale and flushed, but she didn't dare to argue.
She gritted her teeth and replied, "Yes, Your Majesty," then left in a huff with her attendants.
The hall fell silent once again.
Damian tucked the pendant into his sleeve, then looked down at me, still keeping my head down.
His voice was calm and unreadable. "This thing is cursed. I can't let you keep it. I'll destroy it for you."
A metallic sweetness rose in my throat, as if an invisible hand was squeezing my heart.
My last connection to Edwin was effortlessly snatched away by my enemy, all under the guise of protection.
I bit down hard on my lip to keep myself from losing control, and replied in a low voice, "Thank you, Your Majesty."
He seemed pleased with my obedience. He reached out and helped me straighten up, his touch gentle, almost lover-like.
But the words that followed were colder than the wind outside.
He said, "You're to stay in the Moon Palace for a month. And you'll copy the official battle records from the Northern Frontier three years ago, one hundred times."
He paused, a cruel smile curling at his lips. "I want you to take a good look at how Edwin betrayed his country and destroyed himself."
Late at night, the candlelight in the Moon Palace danced and flickered.
I knelt on the icy floor, a mountain of official records spread out before me.
Each line, written in black ink, was nothing but shameless lies, distorting the truth and framing the loyal and honorable.
[The Gilbert family's forces betrayed the nation, causing the Northern Frontier to fall.
[Edwin, the young general, surrendered on the battlefield, only to be slain by mutinous soldiers. He met a tragic end.]
Every word was like a venom-tipped blade, torturing my heart again and again.
Tears clouded my eyes, but I forced them back with sheer will.
I told myself not to cry.
He didn't deserve your tears.
I picked up my pen, copying those soul-piercing words one stroke at a time, as if etching them into my bones and blood.
A faint sound of footsteps came from behind me, carrying a sharp, exotic scent.
It was Damian.
He slipped in without a sound, reaching from behind to wrap his fingers around my hand, cold and stiff from gripping the quill pen too hard.
His warm breath brushed against my ear, laced with a nauseating hint of intimacy.
He said, "Your handwriting is impressive. It carries a bit of his spirit."
He glanced at the name "Edwin" I'd written, let out a soft laugh, and then, still holding my hand, slashed a heavy line of ink across those characters.
He told me. "See? History is always written by the winners. He couldn't protect you, but I can."
His other hand cupped my cheek, forcing me to look up into his deep, unfathomable eyes.
He smiled. "Forget him. From now on, be my woman."
I saw no trace of affection in his eyes, only twisted possessiveness and the smug pride of a conqueror.
My stomach twisted with revulsion, but I swallowed it down and forced out two words, cold and mechanical: "As you command, Your Majesty."
When my month of confinement was finally over, it was in time for the royal winter hunt. As the newly appointed concubine, I was required to attend.
I knew well that this was another deadly trap Helena had prepared for me.
Sure enough, when we arrived at the hunting grounds, the winter clothes sent by the royal household turned out to be a dress as thin as silk.
Meanwhile, Helena was wrapped in a blazing red fox fur, surrounded by her admirers, casting me a provocative glance.
The north wind cut across my face like a knife, each gust stinging my skin.
Wearing only that paper-thin dress, I stood shivering in the freezing wind, my lips quickly turning purple with cold.
The noble ladies gathered together, pointing and whispering, their eyes full of malicious delight, waiting to see me make a fool of myself.
I stood tall, my expression unreadable, refusing to let them see any weakness.
This chill was nothing compared to what Edwin endured on the Northern Frontier.
As I was about to freeze solid, the sound of hoofbeats echoed through the air, drawing closer.
Damian rode up on a jet-black stallion, coming to a stop right beside me.
His gaze lingered on my lips, already turning purple from the cold, and his brows knitted slightly.
Without a word, he unfastened the massive fox fur cloak from his shoulders, leaned down, and draped it over me.
Warmth wrapped around me in an instant, and the cloak still held the heat of his body and that sharp, exotic fragrance unique to him.
Everyone was stunned.
Helena's face went dark in a flash, her eyes nearly shooting daggers of envy.
But for me, the instant that cloak settled on my shoulders, every sense seemed to sharpen, everything suddenly more intense.
My fingers brushed the familiar fox fur, and the scent hit me, a mix of musk and something else, something old and bloody, barely noticeable but enough to drain all my strength.