Chapter 2

Frank hugged me and joked, "Laurel, you never let things slide, huh? The moment that rose bush makes you twist your ankle, you want it dug up.

"And if your man makes you mad, he's sleeping on the cold ground 'til he admits he was wrong."

That was not what happened.

He went out today and didn't even dig up the rose he promised he'd bring me.

Honestly, I only admitted I was wrong and tried to cheer him up because I was worried the cold floor would make him catch a chill.

"My lady, I checked. The General never filed any marriage contract here," said the maid, her voice laced with contempt. "She's just some nobody, a wild girl with no status."

My hand paused halfway through sorting the herbs.

Over in the room, Tracy spoke up, her voice cool and dispassionate. "He once said he'd never marry anyone else."

Herbs tumbled everywhere from the rack, scattering across the floor.

My heart gave a startled flutter.

I dropped to a crouch, scrambling to gather the herbs back together.

I remembered our wedding day—no bridal gown, no wedding veil.

Joanna, our neighbor, kind as ever, showed up with a bouquet of white roses cradled in her arms.

That night, Frank's hands—warm and gentle—held me close.

He said in that steady, low voice of his, "From now on, let's make a go of our life together."

All these years, that was how we lived.

He'd go out hunting, and I'd treat folks' aches and pains. Sure, we didn't have much, but things were peaceful, and we made do.

I always thought we were just a regular husband and wife.

Turned out, I was only lying to myself.

I couldn't help feeling a little down.

My mentor only taught me how to read and pick out herbs.

He never taught me how to handle moments like these.

Dark clouds had been brooding overhead for what felt like forever. Then, finally, the sky cracked open and rain started dumping down in buckets.

I was crouched in the muck, mud splashed all over me as I frantically tried to pick the herbs out from the mess.

Then, Frank showed up from his hunt, grabbed my arm, and hustled me straight into the cottage.

"Come on, it's pouring. Just leave those herbs already," he said.

I pulled my hand away and stubbornly kept picking herbs out of the mud.

"General, please come quickly. Lady Tracy isn't feeling well," the maid called out from the doorway suddenly.

Frank let go of my hand and hurried into the room.

The rain was coming down in sheets that day.

I'd caught a chill, my head heavy and hazy as I brewed myself a pot of herbal soup to drive out the cold.

Meanwhile, Frank was inside, tending to Tracy with all his attention.

He hurried over to me, worry all over his face. "Her heart attack is acting up again. The prescription is missing a dose of mugwort. Do you have any here?"

I had to force myself to concentrate, but after searching my memory, I shook my head. "No, there's none left."

Frank's brow furrowed; he was starting to get restless.

Then his gaze landed on the bits of herbs by the stove, and he suddenly looked resolute.

He demanded, "Then what's this?"

It was mugwort—leftover from the soup I'd made to drive out the chill.

He recognized it instantly.

He didn't care in the slightest why I needed the medicine.

He just looked disappointed. "Laurel, I never thought you were the type to hold a grudge."

My voice came out all stuffy and muffled from my cold. "That's not it."

Frank turned and walked out, braving the downpour to find medicine for Tracy.

When I went to visit Tracy, I happened to overhear their conversation.

"The general really cares about you, my lady. He just can't stand to see you cry or suffer," the maid said. "Every time you get sick, he totally loses it."

Tracy's voice was tinged with melancholy.

She murmured softly, "Frank has always been so good to me."

The maid laughed. "Back then, he surrendered command of two hundred thousand troops right in front of the King, all to make sure you became the Crown Princess.

"Everyone can tell just how deeply he loves you."

Tracy let out a soft sigh, but didn't say anything.

The maid tried to reassure her, offering a gentle smile. "Just say the word, and he'll drop everything and come with us back to the capital. He'll stand up for you—no one would dare mess with you then."

The night breeze swept past, jolting my clouded mind into sudden clarity.

Frank came rushing back through the storm, hunched inside a rain cape, a dim oil lamp swinging in his hand.

I was standing in the doorway, my voice soft and weak as I called out, "Frank, my head hurts... My chest aches too. I really don't feel well."

Raindrops dripped down from the eaves, dampening my shoulders.

Frank shook out his rain cape and pulled a medicine packet from inside his coat—still perfectly dry, not a single raindrop on it.

He lowered his eyes, his voice chilly and indifferent. "Are you finished with your drama?"

The bitterness of the medicine rose up again on my tongue, sour and persistent.

My nose was so clogged up I couldn't catch my breath.

I parted my lips, only for a rush of cold air to flood in.

The chill hit my throat, making me cough uncontrollably.

Frank didn't even slow down—he just brushed past me.