Meanwhile, Edmond and his men continue their sail. The journey north dragged on longer than it should have.
Three days on open water, yet it felt stretched thin, like time itself had slowed to watch them return with something heavy. The waves struck the sides of the ships in steady rhythm, but even that sound grew tiring after a while.
Edmond stood at the front most mornings, saying little.
The Northern Lords stayed close, but not too close. They spoke in low tones when they thought he could not hear. Their eyes followed him when he turned away.
No one asked him directly. Not about Robert. Not about the decision. Maybe they already knew from his silence.
By the time the ships reached Snowland, the sky had turned pale, and the wind carried that familiar cold that settled deep in the bones.
The shore came into view slowly. White cliffs. Dark banners.
Rows of warriors already waiting. Bianca stood at the front, her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders, her posture straight, steady. She did not move until the ships anchored and the planks were lowered.
Then she stepped forward. "You are welcome, my lord," she said, her voice warm enough to cut through the cold.
She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around Edmond, pressing herself against him. He held her briefly, then she pulled back just enough to look at his face. She kissed him lightly.
"How have you been?" he asked.
Bianca smiled. "I missed my lord and husband." A soft chuckle passed between them. It looked natural. Almost easy.
But then she held his gaze. Just a second longer. "Well," she said, her voice shifting slightly, "what is Robert's decision?"
The air changed. Not suddenly. But enough.
The warriors nearby grew still. The lords behind Edmond said nothing. Even the sound of the sea seemed to pull back for a moment.
Edmond did not answer. He looked at her. Then past her.
Silence stretched. It stretched long enough to become uncomfortable.
Bianca's smile faded, slowly, like she was trying not to let it go completely.
Edmond walked past her. "Bring my sister to me," he said, his tone flat. No greeting. No explanation. Just a command.
The guards bowed immediately and hurried off. Bianca remained where she stood for a moment, watching him walk away. Her expression tightened, though she quickly masked it before anyone could fully read it.
Edmond did not look back.
He did not go to the throne room. He did not want eyes watching this. He did not want whispers spreading before he could control them.
His chambers were quiet when he entered. Too quiet. The kind that pressed in on you if you stood still too long.
He removed his cloak and sat on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then the door opened. Maria was dragged in. Her wrists were not bound, but the way the guards held her made it clear she was not there by choice.
"Leave us," Edmond said.
They obeyed instantly. The door shut behind them.
Edmond stood, walked to it, and locked it. The click echoed louder than it should have. Then he turned. His eyes settled on her. He studied her for a moment. Her posture. Her face. The way she held herself.
"You do not look remorseful," he said. Maria smiled. Not softly. Not carefully. There was something sharp in it. "I did what I did for love," she said. "If you were in my shoes, you might have done worse."
Edmond shook his head slowly. "I am a true Woodland," he said. "I would never have broken my vows."
The words came firm. Clean. Like he had already said them in his head a hundred times.
Silence followed. It stayed there, heavy, unmoving. Then Edmond exhaled sharply, like he was done holding something back. "You are lucky," he said, "you got a kind hearted man."
Maria's smile faded just a little.
"The king has decided to forgive you of your infidelity," he continued, "and go on with the wedding."
Maria said nothing. Her eyes did not leave his face. "The marriage will happen in a few weeks."
That was when she snapped. "In a few weeks!" she shouted, her voice breaking through the room. "I am not eighteen yet."
Edmond let out a short laugh. Not amused. Just dismissive. "The custom is to wait till a girl turns into a woman," he said. "But a girl who has known a man, is already a woman."
His eyes hardened. "Therefore you are due for marriage. And Robert is coming to take you home."
Maria's jaw tightened. "I do not love him," she said. "I do not want to marry him."
Something shifted in Edmond's face. It didn't explode all at once. It built. His hand rose before the moment could settle.
Crack!
The sound echoed sharply against the walls. Maria's head snapped to the side. Her body staggered slightly before she steadied herself.
Silence followed again, but this one felt different.
Thinner.
More dangerous. "And who do you love?" Edmond demanded. "Who do you want to marry?"
He stepped closer. "Drexo Dragaria?" he spat. "Who will soon die?"
Maria went still. Completely still.
Edmond watched her for a second, then continued. "Whether you like it or not," he said, his voice dropping lower now, colder, "your marriage to the king will take place."
He turned sharply toward the door. "Guards!"
The door opened almost immediately. They had been waiting.
"Take her to her chambers," he said. "She must not leave the room unless I command it."
They bowed. Maria did not resist when they took her. Not outwardly. But her eyes lingered on Edmond for a second longer than necessary. Then she was gone.
The castle tightened around her after that. Three hundred guards were placed at her door.
Not scattered. Not careless. Placed, and layered. No one entered without permission. No one left.
Her warriors were turned away before they could even step onto the inner grounds. The gates remained closed to them. Only Evelyn was allowed through.
Days blurred. Then stretched. Then blurred again. Time lost its shape inside those walls.
Outside, Snowland changed. Not slowly.
Quickly.
Preparations began. Decorations were brought in. Fabrics. Flowers. Gold-threaded banners. Servants moved constantly, their hands full, their voices low but urgent.
It was the kind of movement that built something large.
Something unavoidable. Inside the room, Maria remained.
Watching, and waiting..Or maybe just enduring.
One morning, the door opened again. Bianca entered, followed by two maids carrying gowns.
They were careful with them, like they were holding something fragile, and precious.
Bianca stepped forward, her expression composed. "My dear," she said, "I will need you to choose from these three gowns."
The gowns were laid out carefully. Each one was different. Each one meant to impress.
Maria glanced at them briefly. Then she looked away. "I am not interested," she said. "The wedding won't take place."
Bianca's expression snapped. Not fully, but enough to show irritation. "I find it difficult to understand you," she said. She stepped closer, pointing a finger at Maria.
"You are about to marry the most powerful man in Astarous," she said, her voice rising slightly, "and yet you refuse it."
Maria stood. Slowly, and deliberately. She met Bianca's gaze without hesitation. "I do not care about status," she said. "My heart belongs to Drexo. And I want him alone."
Bianca shook her head. "Drexo is an enemy of the crown now," she said. "An enemy of the North."
She paused.
"And therefore, your enemy." The words hung between them.
Cold, and Slsharp.
Silence followed. Then Bianca stepped closer. Close enough that her voice did not need to rise. "He is engaged to Friya Kenwool," she said. "And I heard Friya is with him right now."
That was it. Something broke. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough.
Maria's legs gave way, she collapsed. Her hands hit the ground first, then the rest of her followed. "You do not mean that," she said, her voice smaller now.
Bianca nodded. "I meant every bit of it." She straightened. "Drexo was never yours from the beginning."
The words landed harder than the slap.
Then Bianca turned, her expression tightening again. "Drexo is already marked for death," she said. "He is a man who will soon die."
She did not wait for a response. She walked out. The door closed behind her. And Maria remained on the ground.
Alone in the silence.