Good morning, loves!
Thank you to Mel and Pamela!
Chapter 23
Edward
December, 5 years ago
My footsteps are uncharacteristically heavy as I make my way down the elaborately decorated hall.
My boots are not accustomed to such highly polished stone beneath them, having been broken-in outside in the mud and grass. I would worry about leaving a trail behind me now, but the state of the floors is the last concern on my mind.
The duke has summoned me, and though I know what it is regarding, I am wary to face him. I have asked to leave his company. I know he thinks I mean to be employed by another noble, but the truth of it is, my heart is not in war, and I wish to return home to my family and build a quiet life for myself there.
Outside the duke's drawing room stand two guards. I recognize one, though the other is unknown to me. "Edward Cullen to see his Excellency," I tell them. The guard I am unfamiliar with narrows his dark eyes but then nods, turning and entering the room. My eyes shift to Alexander, whom I have met on several occasions.
"I hear you want to leave," he says to me.
I look at him. "Yes."
He frowns. "For another company?"
My teeth grind together. "No," I say and leave it at that. I owe no one an explanation, and I know even if I tried to rationalize myself, most of the guards would not understand.
I do not hold a position of any importance; I am merely a foot soldier, but even that pays me better than most jobs I could hold back home.
The doors to the duke's study open, and I am beckoned in.
The room is grand, lavish from the tapestries on the walls to the spread of untouched foods across a thick wooden table.
The duke sits at the table now, a large goblet in his hands as he leans back in a blue velvet-covered chair. It is really closer to a throne.
He looks up as the doors shut behind me, his ruddy cheeks even more tinged with red from the drink. "Edward," he calls, a little too loudly. "Come in, my boy."
It is an overly friendly welcome, seeing as I have met the man only once before. But I do as he says and step farther into the room. "You wished to see me, Your Excellency?"
The duke takes a long sip from his goblet, his dark eyes fixed on me.
When he is done, he slams the cup down and nods, standing. "I hear you wish to leave my employment," he says, glancing at me as he makes his way to the large carved fireplace at the south end of the room.
"Yes, sir," I say slowly.
The duke looks to the fire, but I can see the furrow of his brow from here. "The captain of my guard tells me that you are young but hold a tremendous amount of promise," he says, looking up at me. "He also tells me my men hold you in high regard."
I do not respond, though now I am realizing why he has summoned me. He is worried I will leave and take his most loyal soldiers with me.
"Tell me, Edward," the duke says, turning back to the fire and reaching for a long, thin iron poker. "Has being in service to me been unsatisfactory for you?"
I know the answer I must give. "No, sir."
"Has the pay not been sufficient?" He jabs at the logs a few times, making tiny embers pop out and hiss.
"No, sir."
The duke turns to me, the poker still in his hands. "Then, by the saints, I cannot imagine why a strapping young man like yourself, with the promising future my captain claims you have, would ever want to leave my employment." He lifts the poker into both hands, eyeing me. "Unless his loyalty is being bought elsewhere."
I do not flinch at his accusation. I know that to a man like him, such a scenario would be the only fathomable reason for me wanting to leave.
"Explain yourself to me, boy," he demands, his voice turning to steel.
I take a breath. "Your Excellency, I hold you in the highest of regards," I lie. "And should my heart yearn for battle, there is none other whom I would wish to serve." I watch his face to see how he has taken my words. I see him preen, despite himself, and press on . "But I am a country boy, and my heart is in enriching the land, not combat."
At this, the duke's face hardens.
"You are a fool," he says, shaking his head. "What good is mucking about in weeds when you can make something of yourself? You have the talent and opportunity to pull yourself up to a proper position one day." He turns back to the fire, throwing the poker down carelessly onto the stone hearth. "I will not release you, Edward. You have proven to be too valuable an asset for my troops."
My breath catches in my throat, and I have to swallow down my protests. The duke turns back to me and offers me an unexpected smile.
"However, I do have a proposition for you. A little incentive should we say, for you staying on."
I frown at him and he returns to his chair, settling heavily into it. "There is a young woman who I am determined to marry," he says, reaching for a grape. He pops it into his mouth, and I watch it explode between his teeth before he continues. "She comes from a merchant family, and unfortunately, her lack of dowry cannot be overlooked." He lifts his eyes to me. "But, she has a sister, who has been offered in marriage as well."
I have no idea where this is going. Does he mean to marry two women? Surely the church would not forgive such an act.
"I am told her sister is quite stupid, but she is pretty enough and will serve obediently," he says, reaching for another grape. "Are you understanding my meaning?"
I hesitate before shaking my head. "No, sir. I am sorry, I am not."
He rolls his eyes, like he thinks I am being intentionally obtuse.
"In exchange for your continued service, I will gift you this young bride, along with a small fortune. I know you have a family you send money to. They would be set for life, and you," he says pointedly. "Will be my kin."
My heart skips a beat. It is unprecedented. I am nothing more than a young soldier who grew up on a farm. There should not be any scenario in which I am elevated to kin of a duke.
I stare at him, wondering if I truly hold the sway his offer implies. I am popular amongst the soldiers, certainly, but I cannot fathom they would leave simply because I desire to do so.
"Your Excellency's offer is most generous," I say slowly, unsure of exactly how to proceed.
He waves a hand at me. "From what I hear, my boy, it is well earned." He gives me a hard look. "Just continue to make me proud. Your name shall be at stake now too," he points out. I swallow hard. He is not giving me a choice. I am to marry this random girl, forever tying me to the duke's household.
"Yes, Your Excellency," I submit, bowing my head.
He claps his hands loudly and I stand up straight again. "Wonderful. You shall be married tomorrow afternoon. I will have a servant show you to a room."
My mouth drops open in shock, but I cannot even utter a single sound before someone is coming in to lead me away. The duke waves us off with a flick of his wrist, and hastily I bow to him again. "Thank you, sir," I mumble before turning and following the maid out of the chamber.
I do not look at the guards as I pass them, though I see Alexander glance at me curiously, obviously wondering how the meeting went.
If I am honest with myself, I am not entirely sure. My head is reeling from this sudden change of events, and it is only well-practiced calm under pressure that keeps me focused in this moment.
"Here you are, sir," the maid says, opening a heavy oak door. The room is not nearly so lavish as the duke's though it is certainly the most luxurious place I have ever stayed. Before I can even turn to thank the maid, she is slipping away back down the hall, the door shutting behind her, leaving me alone to try to sort out what has just happened.
…
My night is spent fitfully, and when the dawn rises the next morning, I am on edge. I do not know how I have managed to get looped into the duke's dealings, but I have to find a way out of them or forever feel the chokehold he has over me.
I am confined to my room all day though, only interacting with servants when they come to deliver my wedding attire. I am drawn a bath, a first for me, as I have only ever bathed outside before now, and whilst I am cleaning myself, a maid is whisking my uniform away. When I step out, I dress in the bridegroom's garments, hating the stiffness of the unfamiliar fabrics.
Shortly after I am dressed, there is a stiff knock on my door. Frowning, I move toward it, pulling it open.
In the hall are two women I have never met. One is young and beautiful, with long golden-blond hair and eyes the color of sapphires. The woman beside her is far older, a grandmother perhaps, with the same blue eyes, though her hair has turned closer to white.
"We must speak with you," the elder of the two says, and together they barge into my room.
I stumble back from the door, confused. "What can I help you with, my ladies?" I ask, turning to them.
"Shut the door and pour us wine," the elder snaps.
I glare at her but comply, slamming the door a little too firmly before I make my way over to pour them each goblets of wine.
"My name is Helen Swan," she says as I hand her a drink. "This is my granddaughter, Rosalie. She is to be married to His Excellency within a matter of hours."
I hand off the second goblet, realization dawning. "I see," I say slowly. This is the family that was willing to offer another child as payment to the duke to ensure a marriage.
No matter how I look at it, I cannot forgive them for such an act, and I have not even met my bride-to-be.
"As tradition dictates, there must be a number of witnesses to ensure your marriage has been consummated. Only once it is confirmed, can the wedding between our Rosalie and the duke commence," she continues.
I feel my heart drop. "You would violate your granddaughter like that?" I demand, my anger spiking.
"This is a business contract," she says, her voice firm. "And the Swan family will deliver as promised."
I am going to be sick. This is not right. Our first time as man and wife, and there will be witnesses? It is a barbaric tradition that is only upheld by the twisted elite. I have never known anyone to have to face such an ordeal.
"No, I will not allow this," I say, shaking my head.
Helen stands, her goblet of wine going completely untouched. "It is not in your power to say no. Your only option is to comply," she hisses, her voice cruel and cold. "Now, we must depart. Rosalie needs to be made ready for her own wedding." At this, Helen turns her eyes to her granddaughter, and there is a softness in her gaze. I suspect that her other granddaughter is given no such look.
Helen moves to the door, pulling it open and stalks out into the hall.
Rosalie is slower to rise, and I turn to her, wondering what she must think in all this. She takes a sip of her wine, her hooded eyes landing on me over her cup. It is a shockingly provocative maneuver, though I do not know if it is intended to be so or not.
She pulls the goblet from her mouth, her tongue flicking over her lips. "I am starting to wonder if perhaps my sister is getting the better end of this bargain," she flirts, looking me over. I am taken aback by her brazenness.
She smiles coyly, setting the cup down on the table. She turns to me and takes a step in my direction. "My sister is both weak and meek," she says, bringing a hand up to toy with the necklace around her throat. It leaves her hand at her bosom, almost like she is trying to draw my eye there. I steadfastly refuse to allow my gaze to linger. "And I have been assured that so long as the children I bear are the duke's, he does not care what else I…" She stops, her hand stroking over her chest, a devilish smile slipping over her plump lips. "Get up to." She reaches out with her other hand, finding my wrist and securing it in a shockingly strong hold. Before I can protest, she brings my hand up, settling my palm against the soft exposed skin over her neckline. I can feel her collarbones under my fingertips, feel the delicate chain around her graceful throat.
It is too bold of a touch, but she holds me to her, her eyes wild and desperate. "I have picked you for a reason," she breathes, licking her lips as she leans in closer to me. "We will spend so many happy years together, Edward." She moans my name, and I wrench my hand out of her grasp, taking a step back from her.
"No," I snarl. "I would never betray my marriage vows. I will never be yours."
Rosalie's eyes turn hard as gemstones as she stares at me, and for a terrible moment, I sense I have made a grave mistake.
There is a fury in her eyes that I recognize. Destructive and spiteful, in this moment I know she would turn the world to ash just to see me burn.
Without uttering another word, she turns and pushes past me, exiting my room. When she is gone, I quickly shut the door and sink against it, taking a deep breath. What in the saints have I gotten myself into?
…
I have drunk no less than three goblets of wine to settle my nerves by the time a servant comes to collect me for the ceremony.
The chapel on the duke's property is small, and likely not where his own grand wedding will be held. When I enter, the priest is standing at the altar. Not another soul is in the room.
My family should be here.
The regret settles into my soul as I make my way down the aisle. The priest nods to me when I come to stand at his side.
"Have you said your prayers today?" he asks me.
I nod to him. "Yes, Father," I tell him honestly.
His lips purse, as if he does not believe me. It does not matter to me whether he does or not.
The door to the chapel opens, and I look down the aisle at the small figure at the door. She is dressed in pale blue, a heavy veil over her head, blocking her from my view. I try not to scowl and force my impatient mind to settle.
She makes her way slowly down the aisle, and I cannot tell if it is out of reluctance to make it to her destination, or if she is simply trying to walk steadily.
I am answered a moment later when only steps from me, she trips.
I reach out to catch her, my battle-tested reflexes sharp as I stop her from tumbling to the ground. Her hands are tiny, and she is trembling in my palms.
"Are you all right?" I ask her, wishing to soothe some of her fear.
She does not answer me, and I hear the priest shift.
"Shall we begin?" the priest asks.
My hand moves to her wrist, wanting to keep her upright and steady. I look down at her thick veil, but I cannot see her through it. When she does not protest, I turn back to the priest.
"Yes, please."
He clears his throat and begins to speak, delivering a short sermon about the sanctity of marriage. I have not been to a wedding since I was a boy and my aunt married her husband nearly half a day's ride from our farm. I had been so focused on the adventure of going somewhere and playing bandits with my brothers that I cannot recall anything of the ceremony.
Still, I get the feeling that the priest is doing his best to speed through the formalities. I can imagine his day is rather full if he is expected to marry the duke later this evening.
In his haste, the priest rushes past our vows, and I feel an ache in my heart when I am asked to agree to his words. I always thought when I married, I would be able to make my own oath to my wife, with words from my own heart.
It pains me that I am unable to.
There is not even time to protest though, as the priest declares us man and wife.
I turn to the trembling girl beside me—my wife— and raise one hand to lift her veil. I am surprised to find my hand is shaking, ever so slightly.
I am nervous.
It is an almost astonishing thought as I raise the heavy material. I did not know such a small woman could make me nervous. Not even battle brings my hands to shake anymore.
The veil finally uncovers a small, heart shaped face and large doe eyes. The breath leaves my body in a single exhale.
She is stunning, with dark mahogany curls framing her pale-moon face and rose-pink lips that look as soft as petals. It strikes me that she is also very young. Certainly younger than my twenty years.
I watch her eyes drop, her long, dark eyelashes fanning across her cheeks. Beside me, the priest lightly clears his throat, and I take a breath, getting his message. I let go of her wrist and gently settle it under her chin, nudging her face up. Her brilliant dark eyes meet mine again, and I lean toward her, brushing my lips over hers. I am aware of the fact that she has stopped breathing, and I know that likely this is her first kiss ever. While this is not mine, it is perhaps the most important kiss I shall ever have, and I wish there were time to savor it.
She smells of lavender and chamomile, the scent delicate and soothing as I press my lips to hers.
I want to linger, but I know this must be overwhelming for her, so instead, I step back, straightening up my spine.
"I must depart," the priest tells me.
I am irritated by his attitude, and I take my new bride's hand into mine. "Thank you, Father," I grind out before leading her down the aisle. She stumbles along beside me, and I wince, realizing I am being far too rough with her. I slow my pace as I lead her toward my bedchamber. I want to delay what must come next, not because I do not wish to be with my new wife, but I would prefer it if we could spend time talking first at the very least.
The moment we enter the room, I drop her hand, moving to pour myself more wine.
"Do you drink?" I ask, turning to her. The look she gives me is puzzling, as if she is trying to understand a foreign tongue. Perhaps she is as mentally slow as her family has suggested.
Guilt lances through me, and I turn from her to finish pouring the wine. When my goblet is filled, I bring it to my lips, taking a large gulp.
I look at her, anxious. "Say something, please."
She blinks, and it is like she has been shaken awake. "Hello, I am Bella."
Immediately she flushes, as if she had not meant to say those words, and I cannot help my own snort of frustration at this situation. "Christ," I groan, my eyes squeezing shut. "This has all gone awry." It should not be this way. Introductions should have been made and I should have spent time courting her.
We both should have been given the option to consent to this marriage.
I want to apologize to her, explain that I am just as trapped by the selfishness of others, but before I can get a single word out, the door is opening. I look over to see Helen and three of the duke's men enter the room and my blood turns cold.
"We are rather busy tonight," she snaps at me. "Let us hurry this along."
This is wrong, so very, very wrong.
I quickly down another glass as my new wife turns her head toward me, her eyes wide and confused. I let out a soft swear, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before I turn toward her. I have to do what I can to shield her from this.
"I am sorry," I whisper to her, stepping in her direction.
Immediately, my wife's body begins to tremble. "For what?" Her voice is a shaken, terrified thing and it makes me wince.
"Just trust me, please," I beg. It is too much, I know this. We do not know each other, and she is so young. Everything about this is wrong.
I go through the motions of slowly undressing her, soothing her protests when she realizes what I am doing.
I rush to explain to her what is happening, praying to God that she understands, that she can find it in her to trust me.
Panic sets in her eyes, and she starts to shake her head. "No, no, no," she wheezes, tears welling in her massive brown eyes.
I stop undressing her, my hands moving to her cheeks. "I promise," I murmur, brushing the tears away. "I am going to do what I can to shield you from this."
It is a promise I intend to see through, no matter how hard it might be.
I get her undressed down to her shift, and I have to fight back my own trembling. Just as surely as she has never been with anyone, nor have I. This is all new for me too, but still I must find a way to guide her through.
Thanks to my brothers, I know the mechanics of what I must do, though unlike them, I have had no premarital practice.
Still, when Bella looks up at me with wide eyes and I see the smallest flicker of trust in her gaze, I feel instinct start to take root in me. I know what I must do, though I do not know how I know such things.
Once I am stripped down to nothing but my tunic, I crawl over her on the bed, nestling between her thighs.
Her body is so slight under mine, I fear crushing her.
"I am sorry," I cannot help but whisper. "I am so sorry."
I lean down to kiss her, trying to distract her as I pull up the bottom of her shift. My fingers make contact with her leg, and we both shudder.
I do what I can to slow this down, to try to explore her and let her adjust to my touch. I have heard from my brothers as well as fellow soldiers talk about sex many times, so I know the rudimentary components in place, but this is all so new for me.
I try to let her body lead me, encouraged when I hear her gasp and feel her hips fall open wider. I deepen our kiss, and I am pleased by her reciprocity in the act.
"Get to it, boy!" Helen's voice is a snarl, and it sends an agonized jolt down my spine as I recall we are in fact not alone.
I feel Bella tense under me, and I let out a breath, meeting my wife's gaze.
"Hold onto me," I tell her. Obediently, she slides her hands to my shoulders.
I lift her shift higher, and her body trembles.
I urge her to relax, hoping it will help her, but her body is wound so tight, she cannot let go.
Slowly, I guide myself toward her entrance and I feel her lock down even harder. I try to hold back, try to stay slow as I push into her, but sensation overtakes me. Pleasure, unlike that which I have ever known, takes hold of me, shooting down my body as I slide into the wet heat of her core. I hear her let out a soft sound, and I do not know if it is in pain or pleasure, but I pray for the latter. I lean down, kissing her mouth once more.
I can tell from her kiss that it is pain she is feeling. I can practically taste it on her lips, feel the rigidity of her body as she tries to keep from crying.
"I am sorry," I groan against her mouth. My hips move of their own accord, in and out of her, and the pleasure grows brighter.
I try to keep a slow, steady rhythm, but soon I am unable to hold onto much thought beyond the sensations of being inside her. My head drops down, meeting her shoulder as I thrust in and out of her, trying to catch my breath.
The feeling comes upon me all at once, a tightening of my body before I fall, like a wave crashing upon a shore. I feel myself unload inside of her, feel my whole body sag in joyous relief for one wonderful instant.
Then it all comes rushing back to me, and I pull myself out and off of my wife, self-loathing hitting me hard when I see her frozen on the bed. I do my best to cover her before I turn to Helen and the duke's men, furious.
"It is done," I snap at them. "Now leave."
Helen gives me a satisfied smile before they all turn to depart. The moment the door is shut, I turn back to Bella who is still rigid on the bed. My heart breaks when I see the tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Can I help you?" I ask, hating myself for not knowing what to do in this situation. She does not answer me, and instead curls on her side so that she is not looking at me anymore.
I see her shoulders shaking with her tears as they come faster.
I hate myself for doing this to her. I hate them for doing this to us.
I stretch out beside my wife, wanting to offer her any comfort I can but unable to find words adequate enough to soothe the damage that has just been done to us.
I lie by her side all night, listening to whimper in her fitful sleep, my own silent tears staining the pillow beneath my head.
…
My training has me up before dawn out of habit. My wife is asleep on the bed beside me, still curled into a tight ball to protect herself. I want to reach out to her, but I do not, letting her continue to sleep.
My heart aches looking at her.
"Everything I do now will be for you," I whisper to her, my finger stroking over her cheek. "My life is for you."
She sighs in her sleep, and I let out a breath.
I dress quickly, wanting to take a walk in the predawn air and clear my head.
Glancing at her one last time, I slip out of the room, heading for the nearest exit into the gardens below.
Outside, the world is white and pristine, fresh snow that has fallen mere hours ago blanketing everything and giving the illusion of fresh starts.
I wish it were so easy.
My walk is brisk and helps me to begin to restore clarity to my mind. The duke has promised me land as part of my marriage to Bella. Even if it is fallow, I am happy to work it hard until it is our own oasis. I will take my wife away from these people and bring her somewhere pure and good. Together, we will find sanctuary in a home of our own making. Together, we will start to heal from the injustices put upon us in our short lives.
After nearly an hour's walk, I head inside, my heart considerably lighter now that I have purpose in mind. I will make things right with Bella; I have to.
"Edward!"
My feet falter on the stone floor as I hear the duke call my name. I want to run away from him, but I know better. Instead, I turn in his direction, bowing slightly.
"Your Excellency," I say out of courtesy, even though right now I do not respect him very much.
He steps toward me, clapping me on the shoulder when I straighten. "How fares your new bride?" He chuckles.
I do not like the way he asks me, and I keep my answer short. "She is asleep," I tell him.
He lets out a hearty laugh. "If she is at all the wildcat her sister is, I am sure you are due for more sleep too no doubt," he says, smirking. I feel my teeth grind together. "Unfortunately, my boy, sleep will have to wait." His face turns serious as he hooks an arm around my shoulders and steers me away from the stairs. "I am afraid war is upon us sooner than we thought. You are needed on the front lines," he says, his sharp gaze running over me.
I look at him. "When?"
He lets go of me, turning to face me in the hall. "Today," he says, his tone firm.
"Today?" I demand, even though it is reckless of me.
"You are to leave immediately," he says, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Your Excellency, my wife…"
"Your wife will be fine living here until you return."
I do not like the way he says this. Though his tone has implied no ill will, there is a hungry glint in his eye that gives me pause.
"With all respect," I say slowly, having to think quickly. "I wonder if Your Excellency might consider bestowing our house upon my wife now, so that she may ready it for my return."
The duke studies me a moment before reaching up to tug at his beard. "Yes, I suppose that would be fine," he says eventually.
He seems to be in a charitable mood, so I decide to push him a little further.
"Might I have a few days to help her settle before—"
"No," he snaps. "The men need a strong force among them right now, and you are one of the best we have," he says, his tone firm.
"But, Your Grace," I start again.
"Enough!" he shouts. "You can either go to war now, or I can kill you here for insubordination and keep your wife for myself," he snarls. "A lost little thing like that. She would be looking for comfort anywhere she could find it."
His words make me go cold.
"I will leave at once," I tell him. "Under the assurance that my wife will not be harmed in any way."
The duke smirks. "Of course. After all, what need have I of a stupid thing like that when I have my own new bride to keep me busy." He chuckles, good humor restored. My head is left reeling. I cannot tell if he has threatened Bella out of true desire for her that he is now masking, or if it was merely a scare tactic to get me to comply. Either way, it has worked and I hate it.
"Let me gather my things," I tell him with a nod of my head. "And I shall depart immediately."
"Your things shall be sent to you. You are to depart immediately."
I hesitate, but when I see the look on his face, I realize there is no use fighting him. My heart clenches as I let out a breath, "Yes, your Grace."
April
4.5 Years Later
"Sir!"
I turn in time to see a young soldier racing to my side, his eyes wide and frantic.
"What is it?" I ask, immediately on high alert. We have been holding the high ground for a while now, and with the next plan of attack tomorrow, I am expecting that we will finally gain the upper hand completely. Our enemy is running low on both morale and supplies, so it is merely a matter of time before they surrender.
Surely they could not have mustered up enough resources to plan an ambush.
"In your tent," the young man gasps. "It is Duchess Cross!"
My whole body goes cold. Has something happened to Bella? Why would the duchess be here?
I drop everything and race toward my tent, outpacing the soldier who is trying to keep up with me, awaiting further instruction.
I burst through the entrance of my tent, my chest heaving from the exertion.
Sitting in the one cushioned chair I reserve for visiting superiors is the duchess. She is as beautiful as I remember her, though now her figure is fuller and I realize she is with child.
She smiles at me, motioning me to take a seat across from her.
"Welcome, Captain."
I do not move. "Is everything all right? My wife?" I ask, my throat tight with my panic.
"Of course it is," the duchess says, her eyes wide. "Whatever could possibly be wrong with my sister?"
My knees nearly collapse under me, and I sink into a chair, sucking in a deep breath. She is okay. She is okay.
For four years, there has been but one thought that has kept me going: Bella.
She has been the peace I need at night, the reason for getting up each morning and fighting another day. She has been my entire reason for continuing to exist.
I feel the vow I made to her the morning after our wedding, beating in my chest like a second heart.
Everything I do now will be for you. My life is for you.
Fantasies of coming home to her have kept me afloat. Sometimes it is all I can think about.
Now that I know she is still safe, I can focus on the matter at hand.
I look at the duchess, who is watching me with a keen gaze. She is far too clever to be married to the dolt of a man that the duke is.
"I am surprised, Captain," she says, turning her attention to a bottle of wine on a small table beside her. She lifts it and fills a goblet, glancing at me. "My sister tells me she has not heard one word from you since you left. Yet you raced to my side when you feared for her safety." She finishes pouring the wine and sets the bottle back, turning to face me fully. "So which is it? Is she merely a burden you have left behind, or is she perhaps something more?"
I do not owe the duchess an answer to her intrusive question, and I feel my jaw tighten in response. I do feel guilty for not writing to Bella, but what could I possibly say to her? I want to shield her from all that is horrible and wicked in this world, and if that means distancing her from me and my life, then so be it.
The duchess does not seem surprised by my lack of response.
I clear my throat. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" I ask her, trying to even out my tone.
She picks up the goblet and brings it to her lips, taking a delicate sip.
"I have been impressed by your success so far in this campaign," she says, once she has pulled the goblet from her mouth. I watch her lick her lips and I fight back a scowl. "You have shown cunning on top of your bravery, and such spirit should be rewarded."
I frown. "I do not know what power you think you yield—" I say slowly.
She lets out a tinkling laugh, interrupting me. "Do you not know? I am a woman, and thus, I have no power." There is venom behind her words, and for a moment, I see a flash of deep, unyielding anger that sits beneath her surface. It is chilling.
"I am here on my husband's behalf," she says, gesturing across the tent toward the attendants hiding in the corner. One of them rushes forward, producing a velvet box as he kneels before me. I glance up at the duchess, who takes another sip of her wine, motioning me toward the box. I look back down at it and carefully lift it into my hands.
My breath catches in my chest when I see what is inside.
A new signet ring bearing two lions and a general's badge.
I am being promoted, again.
I look up at the duchess who is watching me like a falcon tracks its prey.
"This is a great honor," I say slowly.
"It is," she agrees right away. "One that comes with many opportunities for you."
I lower the box, looking at her. Quietly, the attendant slips away from between us.
"What are you talking about?"
The duchess sips her wine again.
"Word of your heroic deeds have reached the capital," she says slowly. "You have caught the interest of the king."
I know that I am meant to be flattered or even excited by this news, but my heart sinks at it. I do not want to be of interest to the king. My only wish is to return home to my wife.
When I do not respond, the duchess continues. "It seems that your success and rising status has led him to consider you for a contender to marry his only heir."
My hands tighten around the box. "I am already married," I hiss, angry that she would even suggest such a thing.
She lets out a small laugh. "My dear, one night does not a marriage make," she scolds lightly. "Due to the circumstances of your union, the church would grant a dissolution of the marriage. Bella is young enough to remarry and live out her life happily with a man more suited to her … level."
Her tone is not cruel, though her words ignite anger in me. How can she speak so poorly of her own sister? Does she have no heart at all?
"I will not dissolve my marriage," I hiss, leaning forward. "I made a vow, and I intend to keep that vow until my dying breath."
The duchess sips her wine again then shrugs lightly, setting the goblet down.
"That is how you feel today," she agrees. "You will be dispatched home soon, and should you change your mind when you arrive to find your marriage is not the rose-tinted world you have painted for yourself, send word to me." She looks me over, her hard gemstone eyes calculating. "I told you once that I chose you. You have a lot of potential, Edward. Do not squander it on something as foolish as thinking you are in love."
"What is it you want from me?" I ask, my voice tight.
The duchess studies me with a calculated precision I have seen in predators. How anyone could mistake this cunning mind as a quiet and complacent beauty is beyond me.
"I have a great number of ambitions in this life, General," she says softly. "There is far more this world has to offer than this forgotten corner of a crumbling kingdom."
Her words take me by surprise, and I glance around to see if her attendants have overheard her. They are well trained and show no hint of acknowledgement of her words. I turn my gaze back to the duchess.
"Where do I come into this?" I ask, my voice wary. I would not have expected the duchess to be bold enough to speak against not only her husband, but her king.
"I am not naive," she says, sipping her wine. "There is only so far sex will take a woman," she says, letting out a soft sigh. "Do not get me wrong. I can get quite far with it, but there are other, more direct routes." Her sapphire eyes are hard as she stares at me, and I cannot help but take a moment to note the extreme differences between the duchess and my wife. They have the same nose, and their mouths are similar shapes, though my memory paints my wife's mouth softer. Bella's eyes are kinder, less devious than her sister's.
"You mean to use me to further your own status." It is not a question, and the duchess gives me a cold, thin smile.
"I mean to improve both our lives," she says, softly. "You could be a man of tremendous power, General. It sits before you, waiting to be taken."
I swallow hard. "I do not want power," I tell her quietly.
"You are a fool," she hisses. "Every man wants power. Those who claim they do not are too cowardly to admit to it."
I am taken aback by this, and I shift away from her, trying to process all that she has said to me.
"By my honor, I am bound to aid you as kin," I say slowly. "So long as you are the sister of my wife, I will help you when I can. But I will not be a device in some plot you have in mind."
The duchess lets out a breath, gazing at me coolly. "Is my sister's cunt truly so magical that you would die for it after merely one taste?"
My temper snaps, and I surge toward her, rising from my chair, anger in every muscle of my body. "Do not dare to disrespect my wife in front of me," I snarl, my fingers flexing at my hip, itching for a weapon.
The duchess does not flinch, rather her face grows colder, harder.
"I remind you, boy." She sneers the word, though I am not certain she is even as old as me, let alone older. "Your life is in my hands." Her voice is quiet, deadly, like the stillness of wind before a storm. "With a single word, I could kill you, or far, far worse." Her face shows absolutely no remorse for the callousness of her words, and I know in my heart she would not hesitate to act on any of them. "Everything you have," she continues. "Everything you cherish." The word is spit from her mouth. "I can strip away and burn to ash."
"You would betray your own sister?" I ask, my heart squeezing in my chest.
"I would burn this entire kingdom to the ground," she seethes. "What is the single unextraordinary life of my sister worth compared to the world?"
I let out a shaking breath. "You are mad."
The duchess lets out a tight, sardonic laugh. "You are right, General. I am mad. I have been robbed of opportunity in this life, but I refuse to be denied power any longer." She settles me with a look so cold, I feel it start to chill me through.
I have nothing to say to her and she stands from her chair, one hand coming around to rub her growing stomach.
"I will see you in a few months, General. Until then, think on my offer." Her voice is softer again, like she had not just threatened to tear apart the kingdom in her mad quest for power. "Oh, and another thing," she says, as her attendants step toward her. "A letter from your dear brother." Her words are somehow venomous as she hands me the parchment. I take it, not looking away from her. She gives me one final cold smile, then without another word, she turns and leaves the tent, her attendants scurrying behind her. I am left sitting in my tent, at a complete loss for words.
A few minutes later, I clear my mind enough to open my brother's letter.
Dear Edward,
I hope this letter finds you well. I have been told about your promotion. Congratulations are in order. I too have recently received an elevation in rank. I am now one of the highest ranking members of Duke Cross's personal guard. It is an honor that I carry with much pride.
My work took me near home some weeks ago. I am told that you have not written to our parents once since you have left on campaign. Mam has tasked me with knocking sense into you the next time we meet, even if you outrank me. All is well otherwise. Our numerous siblings continue to grow like weeds and tell me they know nothing of you except for the tales told to them. It seems, dear brother, your reputation is now in my hands.
I have heard the duchess speaking with her husband in regards to your wife. Though I have not yet met her, Duchess Cross seems to think that your marriage is ill-suited. I cannot begin to guess what she means by this, but I urge you to use caution, brother, upon your eventual return.
This week, I will be escorting Duke Cross once again to the capital to meet with the king. I have been told that the king is growing weary of his daughter's stubborn refusal to marry, and that he is seeking out a suitable match. He even is willing to consider someone of non-noble blood, if only to have her finally married off. She seems a disagreeable sort, but I can imagine a man of war might make quick work of a woman like that. Perhaps, brother, you will be able to arrange a match for her and curry favor with the king.
It is my sincerest hope that we will be able to meet again soon.
Your brother,
Michael
July
Never has air smelled sweeter than it does as our troop approaches Rowanberry.
My whole body is filled with relief and anticipation of being back from war. My mind conjures the dream it created whilst on campaign: a long quiet life with Bella and the children we will have.
The dream is so precious to me, I can hardly breathe.
I cannot wait to hold Bella in my arms again, to get to truly know her. We will have a long and peaceful life before us if I have any say in it.
But to my disappointment, Bella is not within the house when I return. I can feel my anxiety growing, not knowing where she is, but soon, I spot her approaching the house with a child in her arms and the very pregnant duchess at her side.
My heart drops when I see the child. Did I miss the birth of my first born? Why would Bella not tell me she was with child?
The moment my wife is within reach, I cannot stop myself from reaching out to her. She feels different than my memory of her; stronger perhaps, less soft. She has grown into the shape of a woman, just as I had grown on the battlefield into a man.
But I can tell from the stiffness of her body and the hard look in her eyes that she does not share in my joy at our reunion, and it is not long before I discover that with the growth of her body, her mind and heart have grown cold and sharp toward me.
Part of me wonders if this is the influence of her wretched sister.
The first few nights back at Rowanberry do not go at all as I hoped they would. Bella is cold, and her hardness provokes a surprising amount of my own irritation. We argue more than talk, and I am afraid that I have truly lost her.
I fear Michael's letter may have been far more accurate than I anticipated.
In my despair and frustration, I pen a response to him. Now that I am free of the battlefield, words come to me easier, and though it is painful to admit the failings of my marriage, it is a burden relieved from me to express the thoughts, even if just on parchment.
When I am purged of my worry, I feel lighter, and for a moment, I consider burning the letter. But I have never been one to hold back from my brothers, and before I can truly second guess myself, I am sending it off to Levenforth where I pray my brother might help me shed wisdom on a path forward.
It is not until shortly before my guards depart when I am speaking to my captain, Emmett, that I gain any real insight into my marriage.
"You look well," Emmett says to me as I help him with the horses. I give him a gruff sound in response and he sighs. "Edward," he says gently, his voice low so no one overhears him addressing me so informally. I consider Emmett a friend, a good friend, even though I am now his superior. "Do not take this the wrong way," he begins. I look at him over the horse and he chuckles. "No, I can see you will take this the wrong way." He shakes his head and I scowl. "Edward, you have a tendency to shut people out. You have done it to survive, and that is fine, but Bella is your wife. Have you tried talking to her at all?"
I stubbornly shake my head. "We have nothing to talk about it would seem."
Emmett frowns. "What about your letters to her? Surely there must be a conversation you can craft from those?"
I cannot look at him. The truth is, I composed hundreds of letters to Bella, but each one remained in my head. I refused to put them to parchment, fearing that the toxic hatred of war would spread to her through my writing and wound her. I did not want her to worry about me, nor know the lengths to which I have had to go to survive.
She is too good and pure for that hatred.
"You did write her, no?" Emmett asks. I glance quickly at him, my scowl deepening as I focus back on the horses, my head shaking slightly. "Oh, Edward," Emmet moans. "No wonder she is like this. The woman must be furious! You are nothing more than a stranger to her!"
I pause in my work, looking at him. "I am her husband!"
"Who she knew for a few hours before you left for nearly five years," he points out. I am beginning to regret telling Emmett so much about my life. "Edward, women need more than that."
It is like talking to my brothers. I can feel my irritation rising, and I would rather reach out and hit him than talk about this a moment longer.
"Trust me," Emmett urges, coming around the horse. "Your wife needs to know the man you are, not the man who left her then never reached out." He rolls his eyes again. "Honestly, your lack of communication is truly astounding."
"Emmett," I warn.
"I am leaving," Emmett says, holding up a hand. "But you deserve happiness and you are never going to find it unless you open that Goddamned mouth of yours and talk to your wife!"
I am startled by his swearing, and Emmett lifts a hand and shoves me lightly in the direction of the house.
On some level, I know he is right, but on another, I fear what opening up the box of tightly controlled words and feelings in my chest will mean. What if I tell Bella too much? She is such a soft person. What if she is tainted by the war that stains my heart?
Despite Emmett's wise words, it takes a while for me to act on his suggestion. It does not come easily to me, but I find that when I stop reacting in anger, Bella is far more amusing than I have given her credit for.
Maybe there is hope of peace between us after all, and if I am blessed, room enough for love.