Chapter 1

As Gareth Valcourt swallowed the poisoned wine, he was surprised to find it tasted sweet.

He dropped to his knees, his stomach twisting as if a thousand blades were tearing him apart. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, blooming like dark red flowers on the golden tiles of the hall. But he didn't feel any pain. Not at all.

He looked up and saw Isabel Greenfield standing a few steps away.

She wore a plain, moon-white dress, her hair pinned up, with the white pearl hairpin he had given her nestled at her temple. He had crafted that hairpin himself, gold inlaid with jade, its tip honed to a razor-sharp edge. He had used that very tip to kill many people.

Right now, the tip of the hairpin was pointed straight at him.

No, it was her fingers gripping the hairpin, her knuckles white, as if she might plunge it into someone's heart at any moment.

But Isabel didn't. She stood there, watching him, her eyes red as if they might bleed.

Gareth broke into a sudden, bitter smile.

As he smiled, blood poured more fiercely from the corner of his mouth, running down his jaw, soaking his collar, and seeping into the cracks between the golden tiles.

Gareth rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper, "Isabel, everything you hand me is always so sweet."

Isabel's fingers trembled.

She remembered the wine. She had poisoned it with a deadly dose, three times the amount needed to kill a bull. She poured it herself, brought it over, and handed it to him.

When he took the cup, he even gave her a smile.

Gareth said, "So you finally decided to serve me tea yourself."

Then he tipped his head back and downed it in one gulp.

She thought he'd lose his temper, smash the cup, have her dragged away, or even strangle her before he died. She was ready to feel his hands around her throat, ready to die before he did.

But he didn't.

Gareth dropped to his knees, looked up at her, and smiled like a child who'd finally gotten his hands on a piece of candy.

Isabel's voice trembled. "You— Did you know it was poisoned?"

Gareth didn't answer.

His eyes stayed fixed on her face, unwavering, as if he was burning her image into his bones, his soul, and whatever fate awaited him in the next life.

Gareth murmured, his voice fading, "Back then, by the frozen lake. You gave me a second chance."

Isabel froze.

The frozen lake. That was twelve years ago.

Isabel was twelve, walking past a frozen lake, when she spotted a hole in the ice and a hand desperately reaching out.

She immediately jumped in, hauled the person out, and started pressing on his chest, again and again, not knowing how long she kept at it. Until he finally sputtered out water and blinked up at her.

He was a teenager, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with a jagged scar slashing from his brow all the way down to his jaw, rough and dark like burnt tree bark.

The moment he came to, he seized her wrist.

He stared at her and asked, "You saved me?"

"Yes," she said.

He looked at her and declared, "From this day forward, my life is yours. And yours is mine, too."

Terrified, Isabel turned and ran.

Later, she found out the boy was Gareth, the orphaned prince from Tranquil Palace, the one everyone believed had died in the fire. He survived, but beneath a scarred face, fueled by vengeance, lurking in the shadows.

After that, he tracked Isabel down, locked her up in a big old mansion, and kept her chained to the bed.

Eventually, she managed to escape, carrying his child. She ran off to a small town in Eldermere, started up an embroidery shop, and raised their son, thinking she'd finally left him behind for good.

But Gareth hunted Isabel down once more.

He spent six relentless years searching for her, like a crazed wolf, scouring every corner of the land until he finally dragged her out of hiding.

Then came the imprisonment, the endless struggle, her holding the hairpin to her own throat, forcing him to back off, risking her life time after time.

Until today. Until this poisoned wine.

"Back then, by the frozen lake, you gave me a breath," Gareth's voice pulled her out of her memories. He was still on his knees, blood spreading across the floor. "Now, I'm giving it back to you."

Isabel's tears finally spilled over.

She had no idea why she was crying. She'd hated Gareth for twelve years, ever since the day he first imprisoned her.

She hated his obsession, his possessiveness, the way he treated her like some object to be chained to his side. She'd wished for his death, even dreamed of killing him herself.

But now, as she watched him die right in front of her, her tears wouldn't stop.

"Gareth." Isabel knelt beside him, gazing at his bloodless face. "Are you insane? You knew it was poisoned. Why would you still drink it?"

Gareth met her eyes, and in those dark depths, there was nothing but tenderness.

He whispered, "Because it was from you. That's all the reason I need."

Isabel's tears landed softly on his face.

Gareth reached out, wanting to brush them away for her, but his hand lost strength halfway and fell weakly to rest by her knee.

Gareth whispered, "Isabel, if there's another life, let me be the one who loves you first."

His hand finally dropped, lifeless at her side.

Footsteps thundered outside the hall. Robert burst in, then William, Arthur, and a crowd of others followed.

But Isabel heard nothing at all.

Only one line echoed in her mind. "If there's another life, let me be the one who loves you first."