Chapter 2

Charlotte's mind went blank. She couldn't believe that Anthony was charged with colluding with Northvale.

It was absurd. Anthony had guarded the northern frontier for twenty years, fought dozens of battles against Northvale, and his body was covered in scars. He had slain countless Northvalers. He couldn't be working with them.

Anthony's laughter echoed through the room. It was not out of fear or panic, but with a sorrow so deep and a sense of acceptance that words couldn't describe.

"Fine," Anthony said, his voice chillingly calm. "I knew this day would come. Edward, tell King Harold that if he wants my life, he can have it. But..."

"Duke Sinclair," Edward cut him off, his tone flat and emotionless. "King Harold's decree is this: not a single soul from the Sinclair family will be spared."

Charlotte's nails dug into her palms, the pain was bone-deep. 'Not a single soul?'

"Do it," Edward said, his voice so light it was as if he were talking about the weather.

Then, Charlotte heard the sickening sound of a blade slicing into flesh.

The butler screamed.

"No! Please, Lord Sinclair, save me." It was the voice of Mary Fields, Charlotte's personal maid.

Mary was only fifteen, and last month, she'd whispered to Charlotte that after the wedding, she wanted to go to Preston Manor and serve her for the rest of her life.

Shrieks rang out one after another. Blood splattered onto Charlotte's veil, and the metallic tang filled her nose.

She wanted to move. She wanted to pull off the veil, rush out, and confront Edward. She wanted to ask him why he was doing this.

But she couldn't move. The eight-pound bridal crown pressed down so hard she couldn't raise her head. The ornate wedding gown wrapped around her, making it hard to breathe. The overwhelming scent of blood made her want to vomit.

"Duke Sinclair," Edward's voice sounded again, this time so close it was almost right next to Charlotte.

Peering through a slit in her veil, Charlotte caught sight of a pair of dark military boots coming to a halt in front of Anthony.

"Is there anything else you want to say?" Edward asked Anthony.

Anthony was silent for a moment, then let out a bitter laugh.

Anthony's voice was hoarse, yet carried a pride that couldn't be put into words. "Edward, I've fought enemies, defended our lands, and served Albion and King Harold faithfully in my whole life. But..."

His voice faltered. "I only failed my wife. I didn't take good care of our daughter."

Charlotte's tears streamed down her face.

"Do it," Anthony said.

Edward stayed silent. The chilling sound of a blade slicing through the air followed.

Charlotte didn't know how she managed to tear off her veil.

All she knew was that when her eyes opened, she saw her father's body hitting the ground, and Edward standing there, sword in hand, its tip still dripping with her father's blood.

Anthony lay in a pool of blood, his eyes wide and fixed on her. His lips moved, as if trying to speak.

Charlotte understood in that instant. He was telling her to run.

"You really shouldn't lift your veil at a time like this," Edward said.

Charlotte slowly turned her head to look at him.

He looked just as he had that day at the racecourse. Sharp brows, striking eyes, and an undeniable presence. But the gentle warmth in his gaze was nowhere to be found; now, all that remained was a chilling indifference.

"Edward," Charlotte heard her own voice, so calm it frightened herself. "You deceived me."

Edward didn't deny it. His eyes lingered on Charlotte's face for a moment, then shifted away.

"The time has arrived," he said. "Proceed with the ceremony."

'What?' Charlotte was stunned. She couldn't believe he still wanted to go through with the wedding with corpses everywhere, blood soaking the room, and the manor in chaos.

Edward's voice was cold and absolute. "Take Lady Sinclair's corpse away. Don't let it block my way."

Charlotte lowered her head, and only then did she see a familiar figure lying before the altar.

It was Lucy Sinclair. Or more precisely, it was her corpse.

Lucy's eyes were wide open, her face frozen in terror and agony. A dagger was plunged into her chest. It was the very one Anthony had given her, carved by his own hand as a token of their love.

"No!" Charlotte tried to rush forward, but two soldiers restrained her, holding her back.

"Edward!" she screamed, struggling desperately. "You already killed my parents. Is that not enough for you?"

Edward looked at her, his gaze as indifferent as if he were staring at a corpse.

"Miss Sinclair," he said. "King Harold has decreed that every member of the Sinclair family must be executed, but you are the exception."