No Reply From The Crown
When Selovia's soldiers seized me, I sent Leon ninety-nine letters, each one begging for rescue.
He tore them apart.
"I sent Aya back to her duchy after she struck Mira—but I gave her my finest escort. Selovia could not have touched her." A sharp breath. "I allowed Mira the ceremonial gown, nothing more. And now Aya makes a spectacle to win back my favor. It shames her."
He paced once, restless.
"Mira's brother died protecting me. He was my Captain of the Royal Guard. I swore to guard her in his place. Tell Aya this—no matter how she rages, I will not cast Mira aside. If she keeps making a spectacle, I will delay the wedding."
Three days later, he rode into Valecrest with the marriage contract in hand, ready to wed me.
That same hour, Selovia's envoys delivered an ornate gift box.
Leon glanced at it and exhaled. "So the dowry is prepared. All this noise was Aya stirring unrest."
The lid opened.
Inside—
My head.
From the tower, mourning bells began to toll.
Slow. Heavy. Final.
The chapel doors parted. The officiant stepped out, robes dark, face set in solemn lines.
"Her Grace, Aya Valecrest, Duchess of Valecrest, has been returned to us. The burial rites begin at once."