Chapter 3

Edward's proposal went smoothly, without any obstacles.

My family gave our consent, and he finally secured the support he'd been longing for.

With my family as his powerful ally, his standing at court soared. He went from being a barely noticed prince to a strong contender for the throne.

When I was sixteen, the royal edict arrived at Sinclair Manor.

The old king had passed away, the new king ascended the throne, and I was declared Queen.

Nothing had changed from my previous life.

I wore a gilded crown and an elaborate ceremonial gown, the wedding procession stretching as far as the eye could see, while all the lords and ladies curtsied and bowed in celebration.

Step by step, I ascended the marble steps of the throne dais, gazing down at the assembled courtiers below. The heavy velvet train of my gown trailed behind me, pressing on my shoulders like a mountain.

William stood among the military generals, his eyes fixed on me.

His gaze was so intense that it felt like it could scorch me, but I pretended not to notice.

I straightened my back, kept my eyes forward, and walked with measured grace to the Queen's throne. Then I turned and sat down.

"Kneel!" The command echoed through the hall.

All the nobles fell to their knees as one, their voices booming, "Long live His Majesty!"

Seated on the throne, I looked down at the endless sea of bowed heads, and a cold emptiness crept into my heart.

It wasn't my body that was cold. It was my heart. This palace had trapped me for eight years in my previous life.

And now, it would be my cage for the rest of my days.

On our wedding night, Edward lifted my veil.

He was dressed in a rich scarlet doublet and ceremonial cloak, handsome with sharp features, but his expression was icy and distant. He glanced at me, and there wasn't a trace of warmth in his eyes.

"Rest early, Queen. Behave yourself, and this position will always be yours," he said.

Then he turned and walked away, heading straight for Isabelle's chambers.

It was exactly the same as in my previous life.

I sat alone on the vast canopy bed, the tall candles flickering as their flames cast dancing shadows on the stone walls.

From outside, the strains of lute music and laughter drifted in. That was Edward and Isabelle celebrating in their bridal chamber.

In my previous life, I spent the night in tears, curled up on the bed, hugging my knees until sunrise.

But this time, I simply removed my crown with composure and asked Amy to help me wash off my makeup.

The crown was so heavy that it made my neck ache. Jewels on the circlet swung in front of my eyes, making me dizzy.

I set it down on the side table with a dull thud.

"Your Majesty, aren't you sad?" Amy asked softly.

As she carefully undid my braided hairstyle, she kept glancing at my reflection in the mirror, trying to read my expression.

"Sad about what?"

"His Majesty... went to Lady Isabelle."

I stared into the mirror, removing the pins from my hair as dark tresses fell to my shoulders.

I saw a young face staring back at me—soft, delicate features, lips pale with the candlelight. This was the prime of my life.

"His Majesty can go wherever he pleases," I said, tone cool and detached.

Amy didn't dare say another word. She quietly helped me wash off my makeup.

I lay down on the vast bed, which could easily fit five, and closed my eyes.

The bed linens were crisp and embroidered with intricate heraldic patterns, yet the space felt impossibly empty.

I'd be living out the same story all over again, marrying a man I didn't care for, sleeping alone every night, and spending my days as a showpiece.

But so what?

My heart no longer ached. All the emotions from my previous life had burned away; now, they were ashes.

No one loved me before, and this time, I wouldn't let myself care for anyone, either.

I'd play the perfect Queen—graceful, poised, and untouchable. That was all I had left, and the only path I could follow.

*****

But out of nowhere, William sent me a letter.

Five months after I'd entered the palace, Amy appeared at my chamber door, carrying a small, ornately carved wooden box.

"Your Majesty, a delivery has arrived for you," she announced.

I opened the box to find a silver hairpin. Its head was sculpted into the shape of a crabapple blossom, with pink tourmaline set delicately into the petals.

The craftsmanship was somewhat rough, perhaps not as polished as one might expect, but the effort and care behind it were evident.

Beneath the hairpin was a letter, long and filled with words, spanning three full pages.

William wrote of the snowstorms on the northern frontier, recounting how the cold was so intense that one's breath froze midair, and even a nose could turn to ice.

He shared stories from the barracks, like how a new recruit had accidentally shot an arrow through his own boot during practice.

He described the starry nights in the desert, where the heavens seemed to burn brighter than any of Everton's night skies.

At the end of the letter, he signed with his name: [All is well on the northern frontier. William Grant.]

My fingers tensed as I read.

In my previous life, I was the one who always reached out first, and he only replied after I sent him a letter. But this time, it felt as though we hadn't truly met yet.

If I could even call it meeting, I had only glimpsed him from across the room at that last party.

In my previous life, I fell for him at first sight. I couldn't stop thinking about him, so I wrote the first letter. After that, I couldn't hold back. Every few days, I'd find an excuse to write him another, pouring out my feelings.

I rambled on about everything I saw and did in the palace. I wrote about the flowers blooming in the Royal Garden, the ice melting on the pond, and even the delicious cake I had that day.

Every letter was long, as if I wanted to share every single moment of my day with him.

His replies were always short, a few words like [All is well.]

Whenever he added a little more, I would be so happy that I couldn't sleep. I read that letter over and over until the edges were soft and frayed from handling it so much.

This time around, I hadn't sent him a single letter.

Yet somehow, he had written to me in such detail.

Why? Could my return in the past have changed something? Or was there some other reason behind it?

I told myself to shake off the thoughts.

I folded the letter neatly and returned it to the box.

"Your Majesty, aren't you going to write back?" Amy asked.

"No."

"But General Grant—"

"Amy," I interrupted, my tone colder than I intended, "I'm the Queen now.

"Do you truly not understand the danger of sending private letters to anyone outside the palace?"

Amy fell silent, not daring to speak further.

I placed the box in my jewelry chest, at the very bottom, the same place I had hidden it in my previous life.

But this time, I swore to myself that I would never open it again.

A month later, the second letter arrived.

It was even longer than the first, filled with more tales and accounts.

William spoke of the first snowfall on the northern frontier. It was a snowstorm that lasted for an entire day and night, causing some tents to collapse under its weight.

He mentioned how the soldiers had engaged in a snowball fight, and as he watched, he couldn't help but think of the crabapple blossoms back in Everton.

[It's snowing here on the northern frontier, and all I can think of are the crabapple blossoms in Everton. William Grant.]

The words evoked old memories in my heart.

In my previous life, I had adored crabapple trees so much that I had them planted throughout the grounds. Every spring, the courtyard would be blanketed in soft pink petals. When the wind swept through, it felt like standing under a gentle rain of flowers.

Now, as I glanced out the window, the courtyard was barren—empty, lifeless, with no blossoms in sight.

"Amy," I commanded, "have the courtyards filled with crabapple trees."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Would you like a specific variety?"

"The most famous two. Fill the entire place."

"Understood."

I didn't write back to William.

Then, letters kept coming one after another.

He wrote of the Niedia Kingdom stirring trouble once again, and how he had led his men into battle.

He mentioned a minor injury, but reassured me not to worry.

He described how the Niedia Kingdom had finally retreated, saying that he would soon return victorious.

[The Niedia Kingdom has retreated. Soon, I will return victorious. William Grant.]

Every letter was long and filled with small details, much like the letters I used to pour my heart into in my previous life.

At the end of each letter, his name was written neatly and clearly.

I locked every letter away in my jewelry box and didn't reply to a single one.

I was the queen, and he was a general. What separated us was more than the palace walls. There was the gulf between ruler and subject, and the unspoken boundaries between men and women.

In my previous life, I had given him my heart, and in return, it had been broken beyond repair.

On the day of the autumn hunt, he rode past me and straight to Isabelle. At that moment, my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

This time, I wouldn't let myself fall into the same trap again.