Chapter 1

The year I married Silas, I left the battlefield behind.

He told me, "All you have to do is wait for me at home."

I waited three years, and all I got was a mistress who looked almost like my twin.

The real joke? She was soft and fragile, while I was tough as nails.

She was the one who cried; me? I was the one who fought.

Urgent reports from the border kept flooding in, but not a single soul in the court dared to step up and lead.

With all the officials watching, I walked up and claimed the mark of command for myself.

Silas went pale as a sheet. "Have you lost your mind?"

I buckled on my armor. "Yeah, maybe I should've gone crazy ages ago."

Three months later, I stood in front of him holding the royal divorce decree, and that was when he finally understood what regret really felt like.

Ironhold.

The crimson walls enclosed a dazzling, luxurious prison.

Brianna sat by the window, wiping dust from a long-unused set of silver armor.

In the bronze mirror, her features were elegant, yet utterly indifferent.

It'd been three years.

Exactly three years since Brianna married Silas, the youngest Chancellor in history.

He once told me, "Brianna, you've seen enough blood and war. From now on, just stay in Ironhold and wait for me to come home."

I actually believed him.

I hung up her armor and tried to become the perfect housewife.

I put away my spear and tried her hand at gardening, doing my best to fit into a peaceful life.

I went from a fierce general on the battlefield to the perfect Chancellor's wife.

But Silas never came home.

All she got was an empty house and the growing pity in the servants' eyes.

Anne, my maid, came in carrying a tray of tea and snacks, her footsteps as light as a cat's.

"Mrs. Schreiber, here's the new Frostbloom Tea," Anne said.

I didn't turn around.

"Where is he?"

Anne's voice grew quieter.

"Lord Schreiber... he's still in council at the palace. He hasn't returned yet," Anne replied.

Again.

I'd heard those same words for three years straight; my ears had grown calluses from it.

I set the silver armor down, my fingertips cold as ice.

"Got it. You can leave now," I said.

Anne hesitated, wanting to say something, but in the end, she just bowed and left.

The room sank back into a suffocating silence.

I got up and walked out into the courtyard.

The Bridal Oak he'd planted for me was now lush and full, its branches spreading wide.

He once said the Bridal Oak stood for a couple's love, hearts forever joined.

What a joke!

An hour later, the butler came rushing in.

He was carrying an exquisite box wrapped in fine brocade.

"Mrs. Schreiber, Lord Schreiber had this sent from the Vault of Celadon. He said it's... your birthday present," the butler said.

My birthday isn't until next month.

He could never remember my birthday.

But he always remembered to send some fancy but meaningless gift right before every major holiday.

It was like he was just going through the motions, doing what he had to do.

I looked at the box, my heart utterly unmoved.

"Just leave it there," I said.

But the butler stayed put, with a hint of unease on his face.

"Lord Schreiber specifically asked that you open it yourself," he said.

I curled my lips into a mocking smile.

I wondered what his game was this time.

So I walked over and took the box.

The box was heavier than I expected.

As I lifted the lid, the air was filled with the fragrant aroma of fine ink.

Inside, there was no jewelry, no silk.

Instead, there was a painting.

I slowly unfurled the scroll.

The painting depicted a woman.

She was dressed in a gown with cloud-like sleeves, sitting beneath a peach tree, her eyes and lips curved in a gentle smile, soft and graceful, like flowing water.

Her face looked almost exactly like mine.

But that gentle, fragile aura, that helpless charm that made people want to protect her, was something I could never master, not even if I spent my whole life trying.

Me? All I knew was how to charge into battle, how to fight and spill blood.

I never learned how to cry, and I could never pull off that gentle, captivating smile.

My eyes finally settled on the woman's hair bun.

There, set at a slant, was a white jade hairpin.

The design was one I'd sketched out three years ago and asked Silas to find for me.

He said that kind of jade was rare, and asked me to be patient.

I waited for three years.

Guess the jade was never that hard to find after all.

Someone else had claimed it long ago.

In the bottom right corner of the painting, there was a small line of text.

"To Liora."

It bore Silas's personal seal.

Liora, the top dancer in the Capital city, was famous for her soft, fragile allure and delicate beauty.

I saw what was going on.

My hands were rock steady, not a hint of a tremor.

With steady hands, I rolled the painting back up and placed it inside the box.

As if it weren't proof of my broken marriage, just another trinket gathering dust on a shelf.

I felt a hole blown right through my heart.

I could almost feel the cold wind whistling through it.

The ache was so deep, I couldn't even feel it anymore.

That painting shattered the last bit of hope I had for him.

Silas kept a mistress who looked so much like me.

He gave her everything he once promised would be mine.

He crushed my pride beneath his feet.

Good. What a good husband!

Silas finally returned home, long after midnight.

He carried the faint aroma of wine and a barely-there whiff of powdery perfume.

It was a scent I'd never paid attention to before, and never cared about.

But tonight, the scent was especially sharp, almost offensive.

I sat in the lamplight, watching him in silence.

He slipped off his outer robe, a tired look on his face.

"Why are you still up?" His voice was as gentle as ever.

It was as if I was still the precious wife he kept close to his heart.

I didn't answer.

Her gaze dropped to his waist, where the jade pendant was gone.

She had carved it for him herself, her name etched into the stone.

He used to treasure it, never took it off.

But today, it was gone.

Probably forgotten in the arms of some mistress.

He followed my gaze, his expression shifting for a split second.

Then he quickly composed himself.

"I must've lost it at the palace today. I'll send someone to look for it tomorrow," he said.

He lied, plain and simple.

He didn't even blink, cold as ever.

Suddenly, I just found the whole thing ridiculous.

I used to believe Silas was a real gentleman, someone I could count on.

He had his dreams, his ambitions, always claiming he was trapped by circumstances.

Now, I finally understood, he was nothing but a mortal, someone who lied and betrayed, just like anyone else.

"Don't bother looking for it," I said.