Chapter 2

The next day, Julian came to take me back to the Ashford residence. He'd brought my favorite cherry pastries again.

"They're from Bennett's Bakery in the south of Kingsbridge. Fresh out of the oven."

When he left for war three years ago, he'd bought me a bag of those same cherry pastries.

The wind was strong that day. I ran after his horse all the way beyond the city gates and refused to let go.

Julian had no choice but to dismount and comfort me. He broke the last cherry pastry in half, popped one half into my mouth, and ate the other half.

"There. That counts as us having one together."

My eyes were red as I asked, "What about next time?"

He tightened my cloak around me, then smiled and gently tapped the tip of my nose.

"When I come back, I'll make it up to you with a whole box."

I waited more than six months. But the next thing delivered to the Ashford residence wasn't cherry pastries. It was his battle armor, soaked in blood.

I sat there holding the armor until dawn. I ran my fingers over the blade marks repeatedly.

My father said nothing remained of Julian's body. My mother added that the borderland was bitterly cold, and he probably hadn't even been left with an intact body.

From that day on, I never ate cherry pastries again.

Now, Julian sat across from me. He had a new scar along his brow, and his palms were much rougher than before.

The man I'd thought I'd never see again still remembered that the pastries from Bennett's Bakery were best eaten warm. He pushed the paper-wrapped pastries toward me.

"Evelyn, you've been through so much these past three years."

I lowered my eyes without saying a word.

He continued, "After tomorrow, everything will go back to the way it was."

The way it was.

Julian would still be General Whitmore, celebrated for his military victories. And Adrian would no longer be seen as the villain who'd stolen another man's wife. My parents could finally clear their names of the disgrace of having allowed their daughter to be unfaithful to her husband.

They could all return to the lives they'd led three years ago, as though none of this absurd ordeal had ever happened. But I was the only one who could no longer go back.

The carriage stopped at the back entrance of the Ashford residence.

My mother came out to greet me, her eyes red with tears, and immediately pulled me into her arms.

"How did you get so thin? Didn't the people at Blackwood Manor take good care of you?"

She stroked my face, then hurriedly pulled my hood lower.

"Quick, get inside before anyone sees you."

My room was just as I'd left it before getting married. The books I'd read still sat by the window, and the comb I'd used as a child was still on the dressing table.

My mother personally combed my hair, then instructed the servants to bring me my favorite vanilla custard.

"You always hated getting out of bed when you were little. Every time, I had to carry you over to the dressing table before I could get your hair done."

Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke.

Seeing all those familiar things reflected in the mirror, I couldn't help tearing up. For a moment, it almost felt as though the past three years had never happened.

Julian hadn't died in battle, and Adrian hadn't taken me away. I was simply a married daughter who'd been mistreated and had come home to her mother's side.

But just as dinner was served, my father had a coffin brought into the room. It was placed beside the freshly prepared dinner, and the smell of varnish overpowered the sweet aroma of the vanilla custard.

My father explained, "We're short on time, so let's check the size first. If anything doesn't fit, there's still time to make adjustments tonight."

Just moments ago, my mother had been asking if the custard was sweet enough. Now she was holding burial clothes up against me to see if they fit.

"The sleeves seem a little wide," she said.

My father glanced at it, then replied, "You won't be able to tell once she's lying inside."

Julian helped me into the coffin and arranged a soft pillow beneath my head.

"Don't be afraid. It's only six hours. Once we're outside the city, I'll personally help you out."

The coffin had a soft mattress inside, with air holes around it. They'd planned everything so thoroughly that they must have discussed it countless times beforehand.

As I sat up, I accidentally knocked a wooden box off the edge of the table. The lid flew open, scattering dozens of letters across the floor.

My mother's expression changed instantly.

"Evelyn, don't read them."

But I'd already recognized the handwriting. It was Julian's.

The earliest letter was dated six days after his supposed death. In it, he said he'd successfully infiltrated Northvale and told my parents not to worry.

In every letter that followed, he'd asked about me.

My father had told him that I'd cried so hard I'd fainted three times in the mourning hall. My mother told him that after Adrian took me away, I'd initially tried to end my life every day, but had gradually become more resigned to my circumstances.

I gripped the letter so tightly that my fingernails nearly dug into my palm.

"You knew he was alive all along?" I asked.

My mother burst into tears.

"I couldn't tell you."

"Why?" I pressed.

My father answered gravely, "It was a military secret. If you'd known, you might have given something away."

I looked around at everyone in the room. My parents, Julian, the steward, and the servants who'd handled the letters.

So, this was their idea of a military secret. So many people knew the truth, yet I was the only one they couldn't tell.

Because my grief had to be real. My hatred had to be real. And in front of the enemy spies, I had to gradually fall in love with Adrian.

Julian placed the bag of cherry pastries in front of me.

"Don't blame them. Because of this, 12 cities were reclaimed, and tens of thousands of people survived. What you've been through wasn't for nothing."

He continued, "Besides, His Highness has already made careful arrangements for you. He's even willing to spare your life."

He made it all sound so noble and righteous, as though any resentment on my part would mean I didn't care about the people of the kingdom.

I lowered my gaze to the bag of cherry pastries.

Three years ago, Julian had shared half of his last pastry with me and promised to buy me more when he returned. I waited through the arrival of his bloodstained armor and the removal of the white funeral banners. In time, I even fell in love with another man.

Now he'd returned with the whole box of cherry pastries he owed me. But he hadn't come to take me back. He'd come to put me in a coffin.