Chapter 1
On my wedding day, my husband led his army in and slaughtered my entire family.
He drove his sword through my father's chest. Then he stepped over my mother's body and married me anyway.
I smiled as I drank the wine. Then I whispered in his ear, "Guess whose baby I'm carrying, General."
Three years later, I sat on the throne and watched them drag him into the palace.
He crawled toward me like a madman. "That kid is mine, right?"
I rested a hand on my growing belly and smiled at the Regent beside me. "Leon, tell him what last name this child will take."
*****
Blood was everywhere.
Charlotte Sinclair never imagined that on her wedding day, the first red to greet her eyes would be her father's blood.
In the 12th Year of Albion's Peace, at Sinclair Manor, festive music thundered through the air. Bridal decorations stretched for miles, and three hundred carriages bearing lavish wedding gifts lined the street from the manor gates all the way to the end.
Charlotte was draped in a gold-threaded wedding robe adorned with luxurious designs, her head crowned with an ornate bridal crown weighing eight pounds. Supported by her attendants, she walked step by step toward the main hall.
Today was her wedding day.
Her groom was General Edward Preston, a young man who was granted his title at an early age and commanded two hundred thousand soldiers of the Northern Legion. He was King Harold's top favorite.
The marriage was personally arranged by King Harold. The day the royal decree arrived, everyone in Betrico said the Sinclairs were about to hit the big time.
Charlotte, her face hidden beneath the veil, couldn't see the path ahead. All she could hear were the guests around her, showering her with congratulations.
"Congratulations, Duke Sinclair. You've got yourself an excellent son-in-law."
"General Preston is young and talented. He and your daughter are made for each other."
Anthony Sinclair's laughter boomed out, so full of joy that Charlotte could sense his happiness through the veil.
Of course Anthony was happy. Due to his wife Lucy's poor health, he'd raised Charlotte all on his own, treating her like his most precious treasure.
Now, seeing her finally marry a good man, all those years of worry were gone. He'd probably be grinning in his sleep tonight.
Charlotte's lips curved ever so slightly.
She'd seen Edward before.
It was at the racecourse on the outskirts of the city. He rode in, dressed in dark riding gear, radiating confidence and charm.
She stole a glance at him from behind the curtain, and he seemed to notice. He turned and nodded at her, just a little.
With that one look, she knew her heart was already lost to him.
Later, Lucy had someone discreetly inquire about Edward's feelings, and Edward did not object. Soon after, the royal decree for Edward and Charlotte's marriage arrived at Sinclair Manor.
Charlotte thought, 'Maybe this was destiny.'
"The bride may come in." The shrill voice of the Master of Ceremonies snapped her back to the present.
Charlotte lowered her head slightly, her eyes fixed on the red carpet beneath her feet as she stepped over the threshold.
The main hall was packed with guests, their laughter filling the air. She could feel countless eyes on her. Some full of envy, some tinged with jealousy, and others curious.
She didn't care. All she wanted was to get through these endless rituals and finally see Edward.
Charlotte turned slightly toward the entrance, her movements gentle and elegant as she bowed.
Just then, a shrill, urgent shout tore through the wedding bliss, ripping the celebration apart.
The thunder of hooves crashed in from the distance, growing louder with every heartbeat. Next came the metallic scrape of blades unsheathing, the clash of armor, and the stomp of countless boots, so many that they encircled Sinclair Manor from every direction.
"What's going on?"
"Who dares cause trouble at Sinclair Manor?"
The guests erupted into anxious whispers, unsure what was happening. Charlotte stood rooted to the spot, her face paling under the veil.
"Step aside. We're doing this by order of King Harold!" A cold, commanding voice pierced through the commotion.
Charlotte knew that voice anywhere. It was Edward.
Her heart dropped like a stone, but then, a ridiculous hope bubbled up inside her. 'Maybe something urgent happened. Maybe he just had to come get me in a hurry, a little rough, a little reckless, but surely, it's nothing bad.'
"Duke Sinclair, receive the royal decree." Edward Preston's voice was so close, it felt like he was right beside her.
Charlotte heard the soft rustle of Anthony's robes as he walked to the door. The guests all froze. The once joyful hall was now dead silent.
"Duke Sinclair, you are charged with colluding with Northvale and plotting treason. Your crimes are unforgivable. Your entire family is to be executed," Edward said. "This is the royal command."