Sent to the Altar for Her Tears

Dorothea's POV

When Arabella Beaumont entered carrying a bowl of medicine, the palace attendants were in the midst of dressing me in my sacrificial robes.

She dismissed them all and held the medicine to my lips herself. "Dorothea, His Majesty was afraid you wouldn't be able to withstand the cold at the altar, so he ordered me to bring you this calming draught."

I looked at her in the bronze mirror. The corners of her eyes were still red, yet tucked into her hair was the pearl hairpin the king, Edward Fairchild, had ordered someone to deliver to her last night.

It was supposed to be part of my coronation gifts as his queen.

I didn't take the medicine. "There's deathvine in it."

Arabella's hand trembled, sending ripples across the surface of the liquid.

I turned around and asked softly, "Arabella, must you really destroy even my last chance of survival?"

Her face turned pale. Then, the bowl crashed to the floor. The medicine splashed across the hem of her dress, and she dropped to the floor with it, tears spilling from her eyes right on cue.

"Dorothea, if you don't want to drink it, you can simply berate me. Why would you say something so cruel?"

The chamber doors swung open. Edward stepped inside just as Arabella clutched her wrist, her body trembling with wounded indignation.

He was dressed in black-and-gold royal attire today, embroidered with the crest of the crown. His features were stern, his bearing elegant and commanding.

If his eyes weren't fixed solely on Arabella, I might have almost remembered that night years ago, when snow was falling outside the palace. Back then, he had walked toward me against the howling wind just like this, then gathered my half-frozen body into his arms.

"Thea."

Edward didn't ask about the medicine first. He simply called me by my pet name. His voice wasn't loud, yet every attendant in the chamber dropped to their knees.

I met his eyes. "The medicine is poisoned."

He bent down and helped Arabella to her feet. When he saw that a shard of the broken porcelain had cut her fingertip, his brows drew together. He pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it against her wound.

"The royal physician is right outside," I added coldly. "If you don't believe me, have him examine it."

At last, Edward raised his eyes to me. "Don't you know what day it is?"

I froze. He continued calmly, "The entire court is waiting at the altar. The divine beast has already broken through three chains, and half the people in the capital are fleeing for their lives.

"And you're standing here, fighting with Arabella over a bowl of medicine. Dorothea, you were never this preposterous before."

My chest suddenly felt unbearably tight.

Before?

When Edward was poisoned by a deadly toxin before, I cut my wrist and fed him my blood for seven days.

When the deposed Crown Prince sent assassins after him, I drew the killers away and died beneath a rain of arrows.

And on the night before he ascended the throne, he knelt beside my bed and held my freezing hand. "Thea, for the rest of my life, you are the only woman I will ever call my queen."

Back then, he thought I was sensible and obedient because I was willing to endure the pain, willing to die, and willing to come back for him time and again.

Arabella sobbed as she tugged at Edward's sleeve. "Your Majesty, please don't blame Dorothea. She probably resents me for ruining her coronation. But I truly never meant to compete with her. If I could survive the altar, I would gladly go myself…"

He looked at her and said gently, "I told you. I will never let you die."

His words were soft, yet they hit me like a blow to the chest.

"And what about me?" I asked him.

Edward avoided my eyes. "You're different."

I laughed. "How so? Is my life worth less, or have I simply gotten too used to suffering?"

His expression finally darkened. "Enough."

The fourth toll of the sacrificial bell rang. A violent wind rose outside, making the palace lanterns flicker wildly.

Edward lifted a hand to adjust Arabella's cloak around her shoulders, then ordered someone to escort her to the altar to watch the ceremony.

Only after she was gone did he come over to me. He reached out and straightened the phoenix hairpin at my temple.

On the night we were married, he did the same thing. He gently removed my hairpins and jewelry, called me "Thea" in that low voice of his, and promised that I would never have to live alone again.

Now, though his fingertips were warm, his words were cold. "I know you feel wronged. When you come back, I'll send Arabella away from the palace. From then on, I'll stay with you and only you. Alright?"

I looked at him. "Edward, this time, I'm really not coming back."

His fingers stilled. After a moment, he let out a silent sigh. "You always say that right before we do this. Thea, don't make me punish you today."

The last bit of warmth in my heart finally went cold.

…

The sky above the altar was dark and streaked with an eerie blue-gray hue. Four black-iron spikes lay on the altar table. Each one was covered in intricate soul-binding runes.

I stopped in my tracks. "What are those?"

The high priest replied in a low voice, "If you break free midway, the divine beast may turn on us. Your body must therefore be pinned in place."

I whipped around to look at Edward. "I already agreed to die in Arabella's place. You still intend to have me nailed down?"

He didn't answer me. Instead, he reached into his pocket and took out a small horseshoe charm. It was the same charm he once tied around my wrist because he knew how afraid I was of pain.

Now he fastened it around my wrist again, his voice so soft it was almost tender. "Thea, I'm right here with you. If it becomes too painful, just look at me."

I stared at him, stunned.

The next moment, Edward lifted his eyes and gave the order in an even voice. "Nail her."

The moment the first iron spike pierced through my collarbone, the horseshoe charm slapped wildly against my wrist as I struggled.

Edward stood below the altar. For the briefest moment, his eyes seemed to redden. He didn't tell them to stop, though.

After the second, third, and fourth spike, I was pinned helplessly to the center of the altar, blood winding down the front of my ceremonial robes.

Edward watched me, his fists clenched so tightly that the veins stood out on the backs of his hands. When he finally spoke, he merely said, "Bear with it. It'll be over soon."