The morning air was sharp with autumn chill when the summons arrived.
Vivian sat quietly in the salon as the butler handed Arthur a scroll sealed with the royal crest. His face hardened as he read, though his hand did not tremble.
"The council has spoken," Arthur said flatly, voice devoid of emotion. "You are to leave the palace within three days. They accuse you of conspiring with my enemies."
Vivian's heart lurched. "Conspiring? With whom? That's absurd!"
His golden eyes lifted to hers, and for a fleeting second, she saw the storm behind them. But the words that left his lips were cold, deliberate.
"It is safer if you obey. Deny them, and they will not stop until they destroy you."
She searched his face. "Then why not fight for me?" Her voice cracked. "Why won't you say even once that I belong here — with you?"
Arthur's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Silence. His silence cut deeper than any accusation.
Vivian bit her lip to stop it from trembling. She nodded, as if accepting her sentence. "Then… I will go."
That Night — Arthur's POV
He sat alone in his study long after the candles had burned low. In his hand, the violet she had found in the library earlier — pressed, fragile, eternal.
He remembered the girl at the riverbank, laughing as she splashed water despite her soaked dress. "You'll catch a cold," he had told her, and she had only smiled.
She had always smiled, even when the world around her was cruel. And now, because of him, that smile would vanish.
He raised the violet to his lips and whispered what he could never say aloud: "Forgive me, Vivian."
Vivian's POV
Her chamber felt colder than ever. The maids had begun packing her belongings, but she stopped them.
"No," she said softly. "Leave them. I'll take nothing."
They looked at her in shock, but obeyed.
That night, she knelt by her window, whispering again into the starlit sky. "Goddess Ailsa, I don't ask for riches, or safety, or even forgiveness. Only… let me see him again in another life. If my love is too heavy in this one, then let it be reborn in the next."
The wind brushed against her cheek, almost like a caress.
The Next Dawn
Arthur did not come to see her off. He remained in his study, staring at the door she would not return through.
Jeremy, the butler, helped Vivian into the carriage, his old eyes wet with sorrow. "Please, my lady… forgive him. His silence is not hatred."
She forced a smile. "I know. He carries the whole world on his shoulders. Perhaps… I was never meant to lighten that weight."
The carriage wheels began to roll. Arthur, behind the tall windows of the study, stood motionless, his shadow stretched long against the floor.
And just beyond the palace gates, unseen by both of them, a group of cloaked figures waited in the trees.
Their trap was set.