A murderer.

The phrase echoed through Arian’s mind and her hands began to tremble as Gwen held them. She had been momentarily relieved at her friend's adamant declaration against the marriage that she did not stop to ponder its irregularity.

Gwen was the nicest and kindest person she had ever met. She believed that people were good, and Arian had never heard her utter a negative word against anyone. That genuinely sweet person was absolutely terrified of the man she was supposed to marry, which meant that he must be a monster.

“Ari,” Gwen spoke, “I will stop it. Somehow, I will. I promise you.”

Arian looked at Gwen’s pleading eyes and she felt guilty for doubting her friendship. Unless she was the most incredible actress in the universe, she was genuinely ready to support Arian through this endeavor.

“What if I leave?”

“Please, use that as a last resort. I am duty bound to help you, remember? I can stop it somehow. I will talk to the prince about it. He must be able to do something. I will beg him.”

“You will beg me for what?” A smooth voice spoke from behind them.

Prince Walter had arrived in the garden. He had been scheduled to meet Gwen to look at floral arrangements for their wedding and to spend the day together before their betrothal banquet. Arian curtsied and Valen bowed, both muttering a reverent ‘your majesty’, but Gwen rushed at him.

“Wally please, we have to stop this wedding.”

“What?!” he said in a panic, clutching at Gwen.

“Not our wedding,” she said, realizing his confusion, “My uncle has arranged for Arian to marry Count Farrough. I cannot let it happen, please. We must do something.”

Holding Gwen delicately in his arms, the prince turned his gaze on Arian with wide, concerned eyes.

“My father has made his re-marriage financially impossible. Your uncle must not know of the dowry requirement.”

“In lieu of sentencing him to death for murder?” Arian questioned resentfully.

Walter winced at this, “There was never sufficient evidence brought forth to prove his guilt. All the deaths were arranged to look like suicide. Society all knows that he did it, but the courts could not conclude it definitively.”

“Dead women tell no tales,” Arian said solemnly.

“My father could not formally punish him as a murderer, but for long standing evidence of spousal mistreatment he declared a dowry of astronomical size for any future marriages. No one wanted to marry the count, even for titles, but no one should be able to afford it either.”

“Would the financial promise to cover all future regiments called to war meet the cost?” Arian asked, but she knew the answer. War was not an inexpensive venture.

“Paying and feeding thousands of men for their tours along the warfront would eventually fulfill the requirement,” the prince said solemnly.

Gerald had circumvented the king’s decree. If he went to war himself, the Hartfield family would still have to pay and support their knights. This way, Gerald spends the same amount of money on different knights but with a new family of nobles to fill his duty requirements.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Gwen said with tears in her eyes.

“Has it been formally declared anywhere?”

Arian shook her head.

“I should be able to force a delay there. I’ll speak with him today and see how much time I can buy us to come up with a solution. If he has things organized as you say Arian, then I cannot use normal intervention strategies.”

She felt numb at this statement. Being hopeful was not her natural disposition and the fact that the prince did not see an immediate solution was disconcerting.

“You saved Dolly’s life,” the prince said as he cupped Gwen’s face in his hands gently. He released her and then turned to bow to Arian, “for that I still owe you a favor and I will labor to help you.” Returning to an upright position, the prince continued walking to meet Valen.

“My old friend,” the two men clasped forearms and the prince reached up to Valen’s right shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. “I did not know you had returned! I will see you tonight at the betrothal banquet, yes?”

Valen flinched at the squeeze on his injured shoulder, trying not to show pain. “Of course, your majesty, I would not miss it.”

The prince turned to offer his arm to Gwen. “Let us head to the floral appointment, and afterwards I will meet with your uncle to see what can be done for Arian.”

With that, the lovely couple left, and two devastated people stood silently on the garden pathway. Valen watched the couple until they were completely out of sight. Their oozing affections a macabre display to a heartbroken man.

Arian was looking nowhere, hot tears burning their way down her cheeks. The mask of neutral emotions she usually donned had cracked under the weight of the situation, and her desperation was seeping through.

Reality began to drown her. If she left, she would be homeless with no means to earn an income, since this society would never consider a woman capable of being a doctor or a fighter. She had no money, had barely been outside the estate, with no clue where else she could go, or how she would survive.

I’m a damn doctor! I worked so hard to have a place where I was stable and safe. Now I’m stuck somewhere that is a thousand times worse than any of the false homes I was raised in, unable to use any of the skills I have spent my whole life refining!

Her hand was on her mouth, and she let out a small, gasping sob.

The sound of a boot crunching on the gravel near her called her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Duke Valen Cael looking at her, distress on his face and pity in his eyes.

“Apologies, Duke Cael,” Arian said as she curtsied to hide her tear-stained face, “I seem out of sorts. Please excuse me, I need to retire to an appropriate place to release my feminine rage.”

At this statement, his eyebrows went up in surprise. As a long-time friend of Gwen, he was likely unfamiliar with seeing women in a state of fury.

“I, also, must excuse myself but am departing in the same direction. Shall I accompany you to the front steps?”

Arian nodded silently and they both turned to walk towards the front of the estate. They did not speak a single word to one another on the walk, just used the other’s presence to keep themselves from emotionally unraveling at the afternoon’s events.

At the stairs to the estate, he bowed, and she curtsied. The two Cael family knights watched with expressions of concern. Valen climbed onto his horse and turned to watch Arian ascend the stairs. She walked with a dignified grace as she reached the doors, but she did not turn around to bid the men farewell. Instead, she grabbed both door handles and flung them open as aggressively as she could.

As the doors swung open, she imagined Gerald the dummy from her apartment, and all the time she punched and kicked out her frustrations. Except that as she imagined herself punching the dummy, the face became Marquess Hartfield’s.

She became resolute in her purpose as she marched towards his study.