Chapter 2

Joseph looked at me. His eyes showed no feeling. "It's the daughter of the Minister of War, Evelyn Lane."

Evelyn. I had heard that name.

She was the most gifted and most beautiful woman in the capital.

People said she and Joseph grew up together as childhood friends.

So it was true.

My blood ran cold in an instant.

The burning hot handkerchief in my hand turned ice cold.

My knees nearly buckled.

Joseph did not seem to notice how I looked.

He went on, "Eve's health is fragile. She cannot take the harsh wind and sand of the far West."

So what?

My mind went blank.

"Isabelle." He said my name.

This was the first time in ten years he had called me by my full name.

So distant. So cold.

"Ten years ago, I saved your life," he said.

I nodded. My voice was dry. "I remember."

How could I forget?

It was the only reason I kept on living.

"Now," he said, "you go to the far West for Eve. You marry in her place."

His voice was soft. But his words landed like a heavy blow to my heart. "Think of it as paying me back for saving your life."

Everything crashed down at once.

I could not hear anything anymore.

The world was spinning.

The handkerchief slipped from my hand and fell.

It landed on the cold stone floor. There was no sound.

But that silence hit me like thunder. It woke me up.

I looked at the handkerchief on the floor.

Those two swans were so beautifully stitched. Their necks entwined, nestled closely.

But now they lay in the dust, like a joke. A huge joke.

Joseph bent down and picked it up for me.

His fingers were long and slender, with clear knuckles.

Those were the hands that had carried me out of the pile of dead bodies back then.

And now, those same hands were shoving me into a whole new hell.

He pressed the handkerchief back into my hand.

His palm was dry. Not a trace of warmth.

"Take it," he said. "If you get bored on the road, you can look at it."

I lifted my head and looked at him.

I wanted to ask him why.

I wanted to ask him if, in those ten years, he had ever once thought of me.

But I couldn't get the words out.

I saw a hint of impatience deep in his eyes.

He didn't want to say anything more to me.

He had only come to deliver a notice.

A notice that would decide the rest of my life.

I suddenly understood. Over the past ten years, I was the only one who had been moved.

To him, I was just a debt he meant to collect. Or rather, a debt he could trade.

Now he had found the best use for that debt.

He was trading my life for the well-being of the one he loved.

Fair enough.

I smiled. I heard myself say, "Fine." My voice was unusually calm.

Joseph seemed a little surprised.

He probably thought I'd break down, throw a fit, or beg him to reconsider.

But I didn't.

I just nodded and said, "Fine."

Then I turned around. I didn't look at him again.

I was afraid that one more look would break me. I wouldn't be able to hold myself together.

Step by step, I walked back to my quarters.

My back was ramrod straight, like a soldier marching off to war.

Back in my room, I closed the door.

All my strength drained away in an instant.

I leaned against the door and slowly slid down.

Then the tears came. I couldn't hold them back.

I didn't cry out loud.

I just wept silently.

I looked at the handkerchief in my hand for a long moment.

Then I found a candle holder and a tinderbox.

Penny knocked on the door from outside. "Ms. Moore? Are you all right? You're scaring me."

I didn't answer her.

I lit the candle.

The flame danced, lighting up my pale face.

I held the handkerchief over the flame.

The fine silk threads touched the fire. They curled and turned black at once.

The flames hungrily swallowed the two swans.

Soon, the handkerchief I had poured my heart and soul into for three years was nothing but a pile of charred black ash.

A sharp, burning smell filled the air.

I cupped the ashes in my hands and walked to the window.

I pushed it open.

The evening wind blew in, carrying the scent of hawthorn blossoms.

I spread my palms open.

The wind swept up the ashes, carrying them far away, to places unknown, just like my ten years and my love. They were both dead.

From that day on, my name was Isabelle.

A woman who was going to marry for an alliance.

A woman who no longer loved Joseph.