SECRETS OF THE COURT

Chapter 9

December 26th, 1519 - Cadherra

The stillness of an early winter morning swept over the valley. The cold harshness of early dawn saw no sign of life as all creatures kept warm and secure inside their homes. In the castle, perched high on its cliff, most people were still in their soft beds, resting from yesterday's festivities.

Only Edward Cullen was up, clothed in woolen jackets and dark bear furs. Ever since he had left his drunk guests sometime past midnight he had tossed and turned under his covers. Sleep evaded him now more than ever. He needed to get away from it all. Hunting was all he could do. But as the days and weeks progressed, slowly, tediously, he felt as if he were being chased. The anxiety that ate away at his mind grew. There were so many things that had happened recently. Saxton's warning and Isabella's slow change in attitude toward him had him confused and worried. He needed to go somewhere where there was nothing but him and nature.

Jacob and Carlisle were still sleeping as they had been up most of the night, drinking and making merry. He did not want to disturb their rest. When enough time had passed, he decided to set out with one of his soldiers and two servants he had found, wandering around in solitude in the empty corridors.

The morning sky had been a dark gray as they had set out. The angry clouds looked threatening as they dove deeper down into the valley and into the forest. They had not gotten far before the two servants warned their master that the angry clouds could mean a big snowstorm was nearing. They did not have enough courage to insist on returning but made sure that their worries were heard. Alas, Edward was arrogant and ignored them. All he could do was breathe in the chilly air, feeling the ice in his lungs bring him out of his stress and kindle new life within him. He had the group ride into the forest.

Soldier and servants were alert, not for prey, but for other things that might lurk in between the trees, where no light would touch the ground. They held their torches high, to illuminate the darkness that hung around them like a black, asphyxiating blanket of shadows.

Hours seemed to pass, yet time stood still inside the forest. No light from the sun could show what time of day it was. The men could only see dark, naked trees with crowns weighed heavy by masses of snow.

Edward bagged yet another rabbit, satisfied. Droplets of blood had already frozen, mixed into the stirred snow. Soon, snow fell from the naked crowns. The forest roof let in what little light the dark sky offered. It seeped through like faint beams, weak and barely able to illuminate the dark interior of the forest. With the light came strong winds that stirred the snow from the ground. He wondered how strong the wind had to be outside the thick forest for it to make its way through its thick roof and pillar trunks.

"My lord!" shouted one of the servants as the winds picked up both speed and force. "We should make haste to the castle! The storm will take us down if we do not leave now!" he said, growing more and more nervous by the minute. It was evident that neither the servants nor the soldier wanted to prevail for much longer in the forest.

Edward was not keen to leave. He did not wish to go back to the castle and to all the problems it held. His mind had remained at peace, for a few moments. Not even Isabella had managed to invade it as was so usual lately. But safety was more important than his personal feelings. So they all turned their horses. The few rabbits he had caught were safely kept in a sack on the side of his horse. He was sure that their bodies had already frozen, or they would freeze solid before they made it inside the fortress.

The winds picked up more strength. As they neared the tree line their horses became spooked. Edward's gray stallion, Cid, reared, casting his owner to the ground and running in a crazed gallop after the other horses. None of the group had noticed their lord missing as they were reassured when they saw his horse behind them, barely visible through the fierce snowstorm.

Edward found himself thigh deep in snow, several miles from his castle. He was far from Hayes as well. It took a few seconds for him to register the urgency of his situation. He had to find shelter before the snowstorm completely eradicated him. Edward pulled the scarf over his mouth, to protect it from the small, icy darts that the wind stirred up. He only wished he had something to protect his eyes with.

The frozen forest and its elements did not favor him as he pulsed through the powdery snow. He did not know how long he had wandered. Edward felt hope dwindle as he suspected that no one would send help after him. Who would, in their right mind, ride out in this storm to risk their own life for his? The snow reached his waist when he finally collapsed. He did not know if he had walked further into the forest or if he was on its outskirts. Nothing was tangible as the frozen crystals kept shooting into his eyes, obstructing his view. It seemed as if he was in a white, icy inferno.

All he knew was that he had been walking for hours. Edward was tired. Maybe he could just lay his head to rest here and give up? It was more comfortable to go to sleep and let the cold seep into him, to take him away. He let self-pity wash over him, he let his rigid posture falter and his proud shoulders lower, he had no image to keep up here. There was no one there that would look at him, judge him. Maybe he should've never come to Angloa. He had loved traveling the world with Sofia; discovering new places, rich cultures, and ways of life each time. He did not know why he had insisted on going to Angloa, his home country. It had done little for him. Receiving a county, a title, and an unwilling bride was not his idea of gratitude. Yet he had been grateful then, hadn't he?

As his tired body slowly sank into the snow, he thought of Isabella. They had made so much progress. He never thought in a million years that she would ever even dare to touch him. But he realized then that it had only been when he had opened up to her; when he had let his walls fall that she had neared him. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of the wind lull him into sleep.

Sofia would no doubt have cursed him for giving up so easily. But he didn't care; she wasn't there.


Meanwhile, as early night fell, the riders that had gone with Edward had barely made it back to the castle. It wasn't until they were inside that they discovered that the count had not made it back with them. The two servants were not that worried since they cared little for that masked man. But the soldier, someone who respected Edward, was frantic. He wanted a search party. He went to find Carlisle and Jacob. Both men rested, still in bed, with an aching head from the previous night's drinks. But as soon as they heard that their lord and friend was in trouble, they did not hesitate one instance and raced to the stables.

Isabella was walking past the courtyard when she saw them running. Jacob moved with difficulty toward the stables. His injuries had not healed completely. She ran after them and stepped outside onto the courtyard and went to them.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" she asked alarmed to Jacob. The young man frowned, showing his own worry. It was the first time they had talked since their fight. But all personal grudges and emotions were set aside.

"Edward, he went out hunting," he said, displacing all decorum. "They say his horse spooked, and he fell. He is still out there!" Jacob pointed toward the gatehouse. Beyond they could see the raging storm and Isabella's eyes widened in fear. She looked back at Jacob, speechless. Carlisle mounted his stallion, and they both set out with a few soldiers, despite the heavy complaints of the other servants, who argued that it was too dangerous.

She ran back immediately, to search for Mrs. Hammond. She rounded a corner and almost knocked the older woman over.

"What is your hurry child?" asked a baffled Mrs. Hammond.

"We need to light the fires again in his lordships chamber and have them prepare extra blankets," she said while composing herself. It would serve no one if she let her worry take a hold of her. How could Edward have been so foolish? She explained to Mrs. Hammond what was afoot and the old woman looked carefully at Isabella. She had no idea the girl would've cared so much for the masked man.


The winds would not settle down and as darkness fell, so did the temperature. Edward thought he had passed at first. But soon he realized that he found himself in a cave, next to a warm fire with several blankets over him. He stirred, noticing that he was not alone. His whole body tensed visibly as he took in his surroundings. The cave was a small one, it could probably only fit two or three people. Most of the opening was covered in snow. And there he also saw a figure, facing the entrance.

When he stirred, the figure turned around. He pulled down the hood and Edward was greeted with a pair of charming eyes, a cocky smile, and dark brown hair. Of course, he sighed. Out of all the creatures in the world it had to be Emmett Saxton that saved him.

Saxton was not his usual easy going self. Instead, he seemed serious, even worried. He walked to Edward and sat down next to him as the other shivered under the furs and blankets. He was too proud to acknowledge that he had just been saved.

"Winter grows harsher. This is the worst one I have seen in years," he murmured as he got a small bottle from his inner coat, opened it and handed it to Edward. He did not think twice and downed the contents of the flask; strong spirits that only served to wake his aching body from its deep slumber.

"Why did you save me?"

"I did it for me, Cullen. I am a very selfish man. If you perish, then it wouldn't take long for the next lord, whoever he is, to completely take me and my men out."

Edward bit his lip and felt them turn into a thin line. He had not expected more from Saxton, yet he was disappointed with the answer.

"Who is to say that I will not return again to Raven's Grove, with more men next time?"

"You are a man of honor. You will not do it. Especially since I have kept my word and kept from stealing any travelers going through my forest." They turned silent as the storm waged outside. "But, I feel that there might be more important questions plaguing your mind," Saxton commenced, looking as if he had read Edward's mind.

"Nothing plagues me," he retorted, angrily.

"If nothing plagues you, you would not be wearing that mask," Saxton said, almost sadly as he pointed at the piece of leather that covered Edward's face from insight. When he got no response from the weak man, he continued. "Have you taken my warning into consideration?"

The anxiety he had hoped to escape had only returned tenfold now, and the growing headache made Edward wish he had perished in that snow.

"What would I do, if I went to Wessport?" he finally asked, the weak voice breaking the peaceful silence. He wanted some peace of mind. It was hard to bear the weight of knowing that he might be able to stop a disaster before it happened. Ever since interrogating Alan Moore, he knew that it would be best to return to King Jasper's court and try to find out who the traitor was.

"So you finally came to your senses then?"

"I never said so."

"If you go to Wessport, then that means that you have chosen to listen to my words. Good."

Edward looked at Saxton and felt how the alcohol slowly warmed his body further. When he said nothing Saxton continued. "When you arrive there, anything you have managed to find out is to be informed to Lord Thomas Athar, one of King Jasper's closest advisors. I repeat once again that he is the only man you can trust within the walls of the city."

"And what then? Shall I blindly let him guide me to do whatever he sees fit?" Edward whispered, still too weak to argue further. Saxton paused, and a look of worry spread across his features.

"To be honest, I am not certain. Anything beyond this forest is beyond my reach. I cannot help you in Wessport."

"I never asked you to help me."

"I never wanted to help you. You're arrogant and self-righteous. Yet, you are noble and live by codes of chivalry that died off centuries ago. Your values do not fit in a world of greed, of lies and deceit," Saxton said and turned away from him. There was more to his words than he chose to show. It was clear to both of them. Yet Edward did not touch subject again. The man before him seemed to carry a lot of weight as well. It made him wonder if, by some twisted fate, Saxton had never committed the sin of murder.

Through the harsh storm, shouts could suddenly be heard. Saxton rose quickly from where he had been sitting and ventured out of the cave. He returned as soon as he had left.

"It seems your friends have not given up on you. A small group of men on horseback is making its way to this cave as we speak. They must have seen the fire."

Edward's eyes widened. He never thought that anyone would actually bother to come and look for him. He thought that if anything, more people would want him gone then come back safe and sound to the castle. Saxton was agitated. The bandit knew he could not linger, for the other men might restrain him, thinking that perhaps he had had something to do with the count's current state. He collected some of the furs he had placed on Edward, preparing to leave. Saxton said nothing as he disappeared suddenly, leaving the masked man alone with the fire slowly dying out. The world around him blurred and collapsed, like the dying embers of the fire.

Edward heard the shouts come closer and closer as if he were at one end of the tunnel. Soon Carlisle and Jacob entered the cave, amazed and happy to find their friend alive.

An ensemble of riders made their way tediously through the snow. The icy crystals almost reached the horses' stomachs as the heavy downfall would not stop. Carlisle kept making sure that Edward would not fall asleep, he had a great difficulty in keeping the larger man behind him on the beast that carried them. It did not take long for them to reach Adelton Hall, the lights from within shining like a beacon of hope for the tired men. The horses were weary as well, barely managing to carry their riders to the courtyard before letting their tired heads collapse near their hooves.

George stepped out, his frail form almost carried away by the ever-growing winds. He could barely see with the snow slashing across his face, getting into his eyes. He had been informed by one of the men keeping a lookout from the guard-post in the highest tower that riders were approaching.

As he stepped further into the courtyard, he saw Edward supported by Carlisle, as Jacob tried to get the masked man off the horse. He quickly neared, fearing the worst. The lord of the castle showed no signs of life as his limp form was dragged to the ground.

"We have to get him warm now!" Carlisle shouted through the snowstorm. George did not answer but instead had two footmen approach with a makeshift litter that they had used for the wounded soldiers only a few weeks earlier. They quickly loaded the limp form covered in furs on and carried him to his quarters. He looked more like a bear than a man as he lay wrapped in his furs. Carlisle, Jacob, and George followed hastily. Servants that ran up and down the castle tending to the fires, looked with scorn as the group passed through the decorated hallways and corridors, making their way to Edward's room.

"We need a fire prepared and more blankets," urged Carlisle as they neared his chambers.

"All is prepared, someone is already waiting in the room." George looked down at the still form. He wondered how he could have survived such an ordeal; to be out in the snow for so many hours was indeed a great feat. But he wondered if it would cost Edward his life. They closed in on his chambers and opened the door. A pleasant wave of heat washed over them. The fire was crackling loudly, a maid piling as much firewood as she could fit into the fireplace. By a damask screen, there was a larger pile of wood where two women were stacking it, soon to be cast into the fire. All men were surprised to find Isabella and Alice.

Isabella wiped her forehead from the arduous work. In truth, every maid she had asked to help her carry the firewood and prepare for Edward's arrival had promptly refused her. Excuse after excuse had sent her into a wave of anger and she completely dismissed the servants. She decided that if it had come to this, then she would help him. However, Isabella had not expected the sight before her.

A limp Edward was carried in on a litter, covered in dark furs. His eyelids were so heavy that they appeared to be glued together and his breath too slow and shallow for her liking. Carlisle and Jacob looked weary as well. Jacob's limp seemed to have gotten worse as he had to take to the wall for support. His and Isabella's eyes met a split second, Jacob was surprised to find that she wasn't paying any attention to him, her eyes were fixed entirely on Edward. Meanwhile, George's face had turned white with worry. For how would the Chamberlain of Adelton Hall look if he lost another lord to the everlasting grasp of death?

Isabella did not have time to think. She did not know what to do. The maid that had kept throwing logs into the fire noticed the company as well. She excused herself as she saw that more people were there and she figured that she was no longer needed.

"Put him on the bed," murmured Carlisle to both footmen. They carried the heavy man over to the vast bed and laid him there, backing away and leaving the room. Isabella felt her heart drop, the servants in this castle cared nothing for her. She had always thought that she was the only one receiving a cold shoulder, but it seemed that her fiancé was treated the same way. Suddenly, she realized that it did not matter how much good he had done. To them, he looked different and intimidating, and that only prompted the servants to distance themselves from him. She thought herself a fool. For she had kept to her room, lamenting her sorry existence when it was, in fact, Edward who had all the right to do so.

As Alice kept piling the firewood and checking on the fire, Isabella hesitantly neared the still form. Jacob and Carlisle started removing the soaked furs. There was no place for decorum here, what mattered was that Edward needed to get warm and soon. Otherwise, he would never open his enigmatic eyes again.

Isabella put aside her thoughts and feelings. She helped both men rid Edward of his furs, blankets, thick gambeson, wool jacket jerkin, and boots. The only thing left on his body was a thin white shirt, socks, gloves, mask, and his brown trousers. She had never seen him so underdressed.

His form was not as bulky as she had expected. He was strong and lean, carrying the form of a fighter, a warrior, not of a man of leisure. His strong chest slowly rose up and down with every deep breath he drew. His arms and hands, still covered by gloves, although now still and useless, looked strong enough to bend steel. The trousers outlined defined thighs and calves. His form reminded her of one of the marble statues that could be found in the gardens. The more she stared, the more she found herself drawn in by him, she wanted to touch him. That was something she had never wanted to do before. Her small hand neared him, slowly. Carlisle and Jacob silently noticed, and Carlisle took her wrist in his hand.

"Another time Isabella, or this will be the last you see of him."

She snapped out of her trance and her vivid chocolate eyes suddenly found their way back to reality.

"I think it's best if I leave the rest to you," she murmured as she noticed why they were hesitating in further undressing Edward. Both Carlisle and Jacob agreed as Isabella started walking out.

To their surprise Alice scoffed, she promptly walked over to the lot, covered in soot.

"My lady has run up and down this castle trying to get help with preparing the fireplace. No one would help, so she did it herself. Now you wish for her to just leave him here, without the satisfaction of being able to take care of him?"

Alice did not care for decorum, or for the fact that Isabella might see Edward naked. She only cared about what was right. Isabella had a right to be in that room, for she was the future lady of the house. Jacob started arguing with the maid and soon Isabella told them to stop.

"While we stand here arguing back and forth his lordship is freezing to death. I will step out, and when he is in bed fully proper, I will return," she said haughtily. She took one last glance at his still form and told Alice to come with her. The way she stared down the maid made her think twice about voicing her opinion again. Alice followed suit, her head bent down in a sign of submission as she closed the door behind them.

Carlisle and Jacob found themselves alone at last with the enigmatic man before them. He looked back at Edward and realized what was about to happen. He was about to see the man unmasked. Jacob hesitated, giving one last glance to Carlisle as if asking for permission before he slowly untucked the shirt from the trousers. As soon as he was about to pull it up Carlisle stopped him.

"No, wait. We cannot. This is wrong."

"Then how are we supposed to get him warm? These clothes are as cold and soaked as the rest. If he remains in them, he will catch cold," argued Jacob. Having his curiosity yet to be satisfied angered him.

"Help me get him up," Carlisle answered tensely. Jacob did as he bade. "There shall be no unmasking of Edward Cullen, at least not today," muttered Carlisle under his breath. Jacob showed his irritation as his curiosity grew. They placed a thin, manageable blanket over him and dragged his clothes off him. Then, they pulled a long nightshirt over him. After, they placed him under the thick, warmed covers of his bed and placed extra blankets over. Both men waited but he still did not come too. After a while, the shallow and slow breaths became quicker and deeper as he started moving slightly.

Carlisle let out a breath of relief, he sank down on his knees and thanked God. Edward would live.

December 30th

Edward's eyes fluttered open. Once again he found himself in a situation where he was not aware of his surroundings. Slowly the memories of last night came back to his mind as he remembered being found and then passing out again. He remembered coming too under a mountain of blankets. Jacob and Carlisle had been there, helping him out. He had been so weak that he could barely move. Suddenly he was afraid. He wondered if they had taken away the mask and revealed what he had fought so hard to keep secret during all these long months and years. But as his hand grazed his face he felt it, still there, firmly in place. Edward felt something in his chest as he realized that Carlisle must've respected him so much that he had chosen not to look upon his face.

He was alive. He was thankful, and he was alive. The door creaked open and someone stepped into the room, carrying with them a cold breeze. It made Edward realize just how warm it was in his chamber.

Isabella entered, wearing a simple burgundy damask dress that hugged her figure. Her sleeves had slits along them that allowed her white chemise to be pulled through them, making neat puffs along her arms. She had a white, wool shawl around her shoulders and her long hair had been swiftly put in a bun with intricate braided details. She carried a tray with a cup and a bowl. Both with content that was steaming hot. As she saw that Edward was awake she stopped at first. But then, without speaking, she took a few determined steps to his bedside.

She placed the tray on the small table next to the bed while she sat down next to him.

"You are awake," she stated, to his surprise she seemed relieved.

"I am sorry to disappoint you," Edward joked. His voice was deep and raspy as if he was getting over a sore throat. But Isabella did not laugh, she only looked at him intensely, straight on as she let her eyes stare without shame on him. For the first time, it was Edward that was trapped under her gaze. He hated feeling frail as he lay there, feeling her eyes cut into him.

"If you have enough energy to jest with me, you have enough energy to get some sustenance in you," she said while moving to help him, trying to be as detached as possible.

"I can sit up myself," his weak voice said. It had lost its rich, deep tremor that always agitated her. When she did not listen, Edward found no strength to object. She put a hand on the back of his neck and another one gliding in under his back to support him. While doing so her face was brought in close to him to the point where their noses were almost touching. Edward locked his shadowed eyes with her chocolate ones. Even if her hands were not touching his skin he felt them, only a thin layer of fabric and leather separating him from soft, delicate fingers. Isabella froze as well, transfixed by his shadowed eyes. She wondered if she would muster the courage to look at them someday. Up to this point, all she had seen were mere glints and glimpses.

She felt yet again his warm breath on her face, a lock of her chestnut hair fell out from its constricting bun, brushing his leather visage. Slowly but surely his eyes wandered to her full, rosy mouth. Even though in a weak state, all Edward could think of was to take her lips in his, to savor them, to explore them, just as he wanted to explore her. Isabella realized what was about to happen. She wanted to stop it; a part of her wanted to release him, to get away. Yet, another part of her, a part she did not know sank deeper into his gaze. She felt a gloved hand brushing the lock away from her face, lingering on her cheek. His thumb brushed across her lips. Isabella felt a slight shiver as even now, while weak and bedridden, he held a spell over her.

Suddenly she found her senses again when something in her mind screamed at her. Maybe it was her common sense, trying to get back control from her more basic instincts. Her cheeks turned red as she quickly pulled away from their embrace. But she did not recoil as she had done before. Rather, she only had to distance herself, because she feared what was happening between them. All she wanted from him was to have him take her to Wessport. There was nothing beyond that. She did not welcome nor want any unnecessary feelings now. She had something far more important that occupied her mind: her father's soul and her mission to get his pardon granted. She would see him buried in their family crypt on holy ground if it was the last thing she did.

Edward let his hand fall to the bed in defeat. He struggled but got up in a sitting position. Isabella only pointed at the food while preparing to get off the bed to flee to her own chambers where she could recollect herself.

"I said I could sit up by myself, I did not say I could feed myself," said he, his voice was not as weak as before as if their intense moment had given him new strength.

She did not argue, he was weak, and he needed sustenance, she kept telling herself. After all, she needed to get on his good side, humor him, if he would ever listen to her request. Isabella suspected that he had as much disdain for court life as she had. It had been more than clear when he had wanted to leave as soon as the war had been won. She wondered what he had left behind when he had come to Wessport. Maybe there was someone waiting for him in some small village, like a sweetheart. She quickly dismissed that thought.

Isabella reached for the spoon and bowl while sitting closer to him. She guided the warm broth to his mouth, feeling satisfied as he drank the rich liquid.

"We thought you would perish last night," she said while giving him another spoonful.

"Surely you were not afraid for me?" He tried to lighten the mood as he saw that it had turned to a more bitter direction. Isabella put down the bowl and frowned.

"We all were."

"The inhabitants of this castle have little love for me," he bitterly said, seeing through her attempt to cheer him and get in his good graces. Isabella cursed inwardly; he was too perceptive. She started leading the conversation in another direction. She was blunter this time.

"My lord, I will not ignore the way you have been treated by many ever since I got to know you. I know better now." She put down the bowl and turned serious. "You must understand that in this country, showing weakness is not an option, not even physical weakness," she warned.

"I know." He knew all too well about these matters. He had already been warned of what might come. But it was in that moment that he realized that Isabella might get entangled in it too. If someone was really after him, then would they not go after Isabella as well?

"No, no you don't. I might seem frail, dull and weak, but I see just as well as anyone. I perceive just as much as anyone, my lord. I have seen many men lose their footing for a moment, stumble in hesitation, and it has been their end." She stared off into the distance. For a moment she was lost in thought, forgetting where she was trying to lead the conversation as she was reminded of the past. "You are a good man, you have honor, you have principles that you stand by. Less can be said for others. This is a country where a wrong word can get you killed."

"You mean like your father?" Isabella was surprised. The conversation had taken a direction in her favor.

"My father, God rest his soul, was found guilty of treason with plenty of proof." She hesitated slightly as she continued. Her choice of words was crucial at this moment. She felt a bit bad to resort to convincing Cullen in such a weak state. Yet, she did not know when else to do it

"But I now see that he was my father and to me, he always will be." There was a long pause after she had spoken. And she wondered if she had lost him.

"It seems you have changed your mind about him then?"

"I have."

Edward looked at her more intently now. He knew exactly what she was doing, and he knew what she might want from him.

"I hear Mrs. Swan had him buried at the foot of the castle, on a hill facing the mountains," he commenced slowly. The tables had been turned. Before it had been Isabella who had been in charge of the conversation while trying to manipulate the weak man. He was infuriated that this girl thought she could outsmart him: the Lion of the North, the most brilliant mind in battle and strategy since King Philip. He had no intention of letting her get away with it. He just wanted to see how far she would take their conversation.

"Yes. It appears a traitor may not be buried on holy ground. It is a silly Angloan law I believe." She held her breath and hoped that he would take her bait. Thus far, Edward had taken pity on her. If she could use that in her favor she might convince him into going to Wessport. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, Isabella could feel her moral side scream at her that this was wrong. It was wrong to use his weak state for her own benefit. But she pushed it aside. She had vowed to do whatever it took, and she would.

"Well, an audience with the king might be favorable for your late father," Edward said in a distant tone. He knew that it was what Isabella wanted to hear. While she lit up, he snickered. She was so predictable that it hurt his pride. Had she really thought that she would get away with it?

"To travel to Wessport for such a small thing is hardly reason enough," she started; as if trying to brush it off.

Suddenly Edward sat up straighter and she could feel his cold gaze on her. It felt as if the man she had met all those weeks ago in Wessport; the man that inspired groundbreaking fear and earth-shattering tremors in her now sat before her again. The man that she had slowly gotten to know was gone in an instant. All she saw was an emotionless mask with two deep holes where his eyes should be. It was as if it were the face of the devil that stared back at her. It was then that she realized, horrified, that he had seen through her attempt at manipulating him.

She quickly put away the bowl of broth and the spoon. The ceramic fell out of her hands and broke on the carpeted floor with a muted crash as she stepped back. She tried to find words to defend herself. But all she could do was to trip over her consonants and vowels as she slowly backed away, afraid that he would attack.

Even though he was weak, Edward got out of bed. He did not let the excruciating ache in his body show, nor the sharp, stabbing pain, that went through his head as he stood up. His larger form slowly walked toward Isabella's in a menacing manner until he had her trapped in a corner.

"Maybe," he growled deeply, like an animal ready to pounce on its prey. "Little Miss Swan should heed her own warning." He neared her and Isabella wished the wall would eat her up, just so that she could get away from there. "This is a country where a wrong word can get you killed." The words dripped like venom from his mouth as he repeated what she had said a mere moment ago.

She remained silent and shut her eyes. A minute ago she had praised him for being a good and honorable man. But now she didn't know what to think anymore. They stood like that, Isabella trapped in the corner, not knowing what to do. Edward loomed over her, angered, having let his emotions get the better of him.

"I am bound for Wessport soon," he teased. His words were cruel as he knew that traveling to Wessport had to be very important to her. But in all honesty, he could only hear Saxton's warning play in his mind. He did not want Isabella with him if he was going to the lion's den. She would be safer in Cadherra, even if she didn't like it. The fear in Isabella's eyes was suddenly replaced by anger. The flames turned her chocolate eyes into a raging firestorm as she let her emotions rule over her. She worked up the courage to speak.

"Take me with you," she demanded, growing more confident and standing tall and defiant.

"I will not, not now, not ever," he growled again. Edward felt his head suddenly turn light, and he knew that he could not keep up pretenses much longer. He did not want to seem weak in front of her because then she would only insist more. Although he welcomed this headstrong new Isabella, he felt that her timing was a bit inopportune. He had to fight hard to control his body from collapsing on him.

"Get out," he said through his teeth and sent a murderous glance her way. It was the only way to get her to leave as quickly as possible. Isabella did not think twice and headed to the door. But to his surprise, she turned around in the last second.

"This is not over," she said haughtily and closed the door behind her with a loud bang. As soon as she was out Edward collapsed from fatigue next to the broken bowl and spilled broth.

January 4th 1520

It came as a surprise to many when Edward had declared that he was going to Wessport within the month. Both Jacob and Carlisle had argued that he should rest a few more days in bed until he started preparing for the long journey ahead. They had entered the new year on bad terms already. The relationship that had been blossoming between Edward and Isabella seemed broken now. But while she had been deathly afraid of him before, she only ignored his presence now.

As soon as word had gotten to her that he was preparing a trip to Wessport without her, she had ignored it. She had sent her own servants to prepare for her own trip. If he would not take her with him, she would go by herself. But word soon reached Edward's ears and he explicitly forbade the young woman from going. She had argued that she was not yet his wife and that he held no power over her. But he had only ignored her saying that as the Count of Cadherra, he could do as he pleased. His arrogance only served to further distance them and so, as the days passed, she realized that she could do nothing.

Alas, Isabella would not give up.

It was afternoon when a courier had arrived at Adelton Hall with mail from Coldwick. The small man had requested to speak directly to the lord of the castle. Mrs. Hammond had shown him to Edward's quarters, where he was sitting in his study. He was in his black, marabou trimmed coat. He sat at his desk, reading and signing various documents. He was still slightly weak from his ordeal in the woods, but he never let it show. The courier felt his tongue go numb as he saw the imposing man. He looked like an apparition from a painting, come to life to take his soul. He had heard of Edward Cullen before, but seeing the man for himself was something else indeed. Yet, while the mysterious man before him inspired fear, he also inspired awe. He was glad that he would never have to meet the man on the battlefield, or in any field requiring battle, fighting or talking. Instead, he just gave him the letter as he had been instructed to do.

Mrs. Hammond had to escort the courier out herself as the man had stood stupefied after having delivered the letter. She felt bad for him. She knew the reaction her master could have on people. She wondered if the poor courier would even have managed to sustain a conversation with his lordship without falling flat on his back.

Edward had not paid them any notice. He had his mind elsewhere. He was putting together a plan for what he had to do when arriving at Wessport. First, he had to invent a cover. Why was he traveling there now? What was he doing there and how long did he intend to stay there? He knew that these questions would be demanded by him over and over again. He was also obliged to inform the king of his arrival in town, something he was not entirely pleased with. After, he had to collect the information he had gotten from Alan Moore and Emmett Saxton. He had to find out how much was true and how much was false. He knew one thing: he needed to find John Fletcher and he needed to speak with Lord Athar. His quest to find out why he had been put under surveillance would take him some time, he figured.

What worried him most of all, was that he might stumble on something larger than he had expected. He knew that there was a larger plot here than just keeping an eye on him. He wondered if the group that was monitoring him were conspirators and traitors to the crown by their own merit. Or perhaps, the most unfortunate case could also be that it was King Jasper himself who had put spies on him. If that were the case, then he would benefit from leaving Angloa as soon as possible. A suspecting king in these times never resulted in any good.

As he finished revising his last document he looked at the letter the courier had given him. When he saw the unbroken royal seal on the bone-white paper, he felt his heart skip a beat. He did not know how long he sat there, staring at that letter. He did not want to open it. Edward felt Saxton's taunting voice at the back of his mind. If the contents of the letter were anything close to what he expected, the bandit would have been right all along. His gloved hand reached for the letter. He was struck by how ironic the whole situation was. A simple piece of paper with some scribbled ink on it could decide a man's destiny. At this moment he did feel as if his destiny was slowly being rewritten. He broke the seal, feeling his pulse quicken and his face flush behind the mask. His jaw got tense as he slowly opened the letter.

To his lordship, Edward Cullen, Count of Cadherra.

It is with our utmost respect that we bid thee welcome to attend the capital of Wessport, by request of His Gracious Majesty, King Jasper I of Angloa. We inform your lordship that your presence and that of your wife, Lady Isabella Cullen, is required by personal request of His Majesty. Both of you are awaited at the turn of the first month of the new year. Information as to why his lordship and his wife are required to be present at court is non-disclosable. Your presence at court is awaited.

And thus, I bid your lordship a heartily farewell.

From the High Council of the Royal Secretary, Roger Ascham.

Signed, His Gracious Majesty, Jasper I Fell, king of Angloa.

Edward reread the letter at least five times until he put it away in defeat. He was expected to attend court. Everything he had feared, those sleepless nights, had led to this. The battle, it seemed, was not over for him. But worse yet was that Isabella was expected to come. It seemed, that whatever action he had taken to keep her within the safe walls of Adelton had failed. He would not show the letter to anyone, nor would he tell her of what he had read. But his heart sank deep within his chest as he read, in small lettering, at the bottom of the elegant paper;

A copy of this correspondence has been delivered to Lady Isabella Cullen as well.

He did not know the world of court as well as the world of the battlefield. That much he could confess to himself. Therefore, he was worried that he did not have the means to protect Isabella. He also expected that she would not receive a warm welcome there. He had always known the Wessport court to be hostile. He only hoped that it would not be too hostile toward her. He already knew that her reputation would be tainted. He had yet to marry her, and arriving at court, still unmarried, would surely rise speculations as to why the matrimony had not been sealed yet. He worried even more; the letter clearly stated that they thought them married. He sighed deeply. Everything would change now, he had to be even more cautious while in Wessport.

Edward rose from his seat, his body still slightly weak from almost perishing in the snowstorm. He walked slowly to the door and opened it. Outside stood a footman, always on duty, if Edward had a request, so he could fetch him someone. Edward asked for George. The plans for his upcoming trip would have to be altered now.