Chapter 2

Two guards followed close behind as I made my way to Rosalind's quarters.

The rain grew heavier until it fell in torrents. Before long, I was drenched. The only relief came when I stopped and pressed my forehead against the cold stone, just to ease the strain on my aching body.

By the time I crossed the courtyard and reached the main hall, I was so numb with cold that I could barely feel the pain anymore.

As I passed a pavilion, I spotted several maids and older servants sheltering from the rain.

"I heard Ms. Moore lost her baby again. What terrible luck."

"Luck? It's karma. A wicked woman like her was never meant to have children."

That comment sent a chill down my spine.

My babies hadn't died because of some cruel twist of fate. Someone had restrained them and cut out their hearts to drain their blood.

Tears slid down my cheeks along with the rain as I clenched my fists.

I simply couldn't understand why Tristan could be so cruel.

Ten years ago, when we first became engaged, he'd secretly spent days making little wooden rocking horses and building cradles.

"I'm just planning ahead," he'd said. "Once we're married, we'll have children soon enough. If we wait until then to get everything ready, it'll be too late.

"If we have a boy, I'll teach him how to fight. If we have a girl, you'll teach her poetry and music."

He'd always loved children.

Yet when my baby had been drained of blood and stopped breathing, one of the servants had asked what should be done with the body.

"Take it to the memorial hall," he'd replied coldly.

Half an hour later, I finally reached Rosalind's quarters.

The cold had settled deep in my bones, and even the slightest movement was becoming difficult.

As soon as I entered the courtyard and dropped to my knees, a gust of wind swept through, sending seeds from the golden rain tree overhead tumbling down to the ground in front of me.

I stared at them, momentarily stunned.

I'd always loved golden rain trees.

Tristan had planted this one himself the year we became engaged. He'd arranged the entire courtyard for me, too. The room beyond was lined with thick rugs and warmed by three braziers. Even in the depths of winter, it stayed warm and cozy while blizzards raged outside.

He had spent five straight days making the arrangements. When he was finally done, he'd come to me with a smug little smile, expecting praise.

"Now you'll never have to suffer from cold hands and feet again, my sweet Isolde."

I curled my stiff, frozen fingers as I watched Rosalind emerge from the house, wrapped in a fur cloak and leaning against Tristan.

The black fox fur was beautiful, but the seams were crooked.

Tristan had made the fur cloak himself. He'd even hidden it among the gifts he prepared for our wedding, hoping to surprise me.

Now, none of it belonged to me anymore.

Just then, Rosalind spotted me in the rain.

"Tristan, she just lost her baby," she said softly. "If she stays out in the rain much longer, she could fall seriously ill."

"There's no need to pity her."

I'd reached the foot of the steps, but the guards blocked my way before I could reach the covered porch.

"You're soaked and filthy," Tristan said. "If you get the rugs wet, Rosalind might catch a chill."

I backed away slowly, careful not to touch anything.

"Ms. Reed, please have mercy on me," I pleaded. "Let me see my father, mother, and brother one last time."

The moment the words left my mouth, Rosalind cried out and buried herself in Tristan's arms, begging me not to say another word.

"Just hearing about them… I can barely breathe," she gasped. "Tristan, I'm scared. The Moores are terrifying!"

Tristan's expression darkened. He rubbed her back reassuringly, then turned to me.

"See that? Rosalind can't bear the sight of you."

"My lord…"

Before I could finish, Rosalind peeked out from his arms.

"But she lost her baby because of me. Why not let her see the child? At least I could do this one thing for her."

Tristan's condescending gaze fell on me.

"Choose. Your child or your family."

I'd never even laid eyes on any of my five children. Their faces were a mystery to me, but my family's were etched into my memory.

Father stroking my hair and telling me not to be afraid, Mother slipping a piece of candied fruit into my mouth, Thomas riding all the way to Joyston just to buy me a box of rouge… the memories came flooding back.

Yet I had no idea what my own child looked like.

Almost without thinking, I whispered, "My baby."

My blood ran cold the moment I heard my voice. I turned toward the Moore estate, whispering apologies over and over as though they could somehow ease the guilt gnawing at me.

Tristan scoffed and ordered a guard to take me to the memorial hall.

Inside, the priests were performing the funeral rites.

One glance was enough to make my breath catch.