"Rowena Grant!" The judge slammed his gavel against the block on the judge's bench, startling me out of my seat. "Do you have anything to say before we proceed with the verdict?"
My vision grew blurry and a hard burning sensation itched at my throat.
What could I say, when they've made up their minds?
I glanced over at Alistair Grant, my husband, who was seated on a bench behind me. He looked as if he hadn't been sleeping, though I know it was not in my honor. The tears slid down my face as I pleaded with my eyes for him to believe me, that it wasn't my fault.With a look of grimace on his face, he tore his gaze away from me.
"Lady Grant?" the judge called out once more, upon my silence.
This time, I shook my head in disagreement.
"Very well, I will now read the verdict." He slid his spectacles up to read the indictment better, occasionally glancing at me.
"Rowena Grant has been sentenced to death by the guillotine for the murder of Evelina Whitmore." He slammed his gavel for the last time as the sound resonated throughout the courtroom. "Court is adjourned."
"Please…" I sobbed into my hands. "I didn't do it, please Alistair! You have to believe me!" I cried out at the top of my lungs, but the words kept getting caught in my throat. I jumped out of my chair and grabbed the sleeve of Alistair's jacket. He immediately yanked his arm out of my grasp in disgust, sending me headfirst to the ground, where my vision went black.
I began regaining consciousness little by little. I could feel myself being carried through a corridor, my feet dragging behind me as two soldiers pulled me by the joints of my arms. The faint noise of cheers and chants could be heard in the distance, growing louder the closer we got. My vision returned; I could see the door at the end of the corridor where sunlight bled through the cracks.
When the doors opened, the guillotine stood before me and the roars of cheers were in favor of my demise.I had no more tears to spare. They wanted to see me dead—then so be it.
They opened the lunette and positioned my arms and head. I didn't fight them. I didn't have anything left in me. My left-side vision was bloodied from my fall, but I scanned the crowd for Alistair, who stood not too far away.
His arm was around a cloaked figure. A sly smile played on his lips.
My heart dropped when I shifted my gaze to the hooded figure whose face grew clearer beneath the sunlight.
Evelina Whitmore. Alive. Standing before me as I was executed for "murdering" her.
They meant for this to happen.
To get rid of me.
All because I loved him and didn't want to let him go. All because I wouldn't let her have him.
A chuckle escaped my lips and tears filled my eyes. Something inside me cracked open—something small, exhausted, and finally free of trying. The sound that left me was half-laughter, half-sob, the kind that claws its way out when a person has nothing left to lose.
I laughed uproariously to hide the sobs I couldn't stifle.
Silence filled the crowd upon watching my sanity lapse.
As I let out my last breathy laugh, I heard the guillotine slide down before everything went silent, and what remained was darkness.
-
I opened my eyes, expecting to see that light that everyone speaks of on their dying bed.
That outstretched hand that leads you to heaven.
I inhaled sharply—air. Wet, heavy air that smelled of damp stone and lavender soap. My eyes fluttered open to a ceiling I knew far too well. The faint pattern carved along the beams… the uneven knot in the wood…
My room.
Then—pain.A sudden, ripping sensation behind my eyes as memories—old, new, twisted—flooded back in a rush. The laughter of the crowd. The feel of the lunette closing. Alistair's smile.
I shoved myself upright so fast the room tilted violently. My hands flew to my neck, searching—desperately—for the wound that had ended me. Smooth skin met trembling fingers.
My chest tightened as panic clawed upward. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to breathe, but the images of my last moments played again on the back of my eyelids—sharp, cruel, deliberate.
I slowly shifted to the edge of the bed and placed my feet on the ground.
The coolness against my skin made me realize that I wasn't dreaming, and I wasn't dead. I fell to the ground, clutching my chest that burned with grief for what my future had in store for me.
"Lady Dravenhart?" My bedroom door opened and a maid stepped into my room. My personal maid, Lulia, who was my best friend and grew up with me.
Until I got married, and Alistair refused to allow her to come with me. Instead, he had her sold off for helping me humiliate Evelina.
I lost track of Lulia after she was sold, and I begged Alistair to tell me where she was, but he bargained with me—demanding I divorce him in exchange for her whereabouts. Despite his cruel attempt, I selfishly stood my ground.
When I finally managed to find out where she was, it was too late. He had sold her to a nobleman who beat and starved her for days on end, until she caught pneumonia and succumbed to the illness.
"My Lady!" She rushed to my side, wrapping her arm around me. A gasp left her lips when I threw my arms around her, taking in that nostalgic warmth and comfort she brought me whenever I needed it.
"I'm so sorry, Lulia." I cried into her shoulder, "What happened to you was all my fault." My stomach churned with guilt for what I had let happen to her, and all she did was stay by my side.
"My Lady, nothing happened to me!" She let out a chuckle whilst running her hand up and down my back to comfort me. "Did you have a nightmare?" She pulled away to look at my face that was a crying mess.
I let out a laugh as I wiped my face, and watched Lulia's brighten upon seeing my smile. "Something like that."
I enjoyed Lulia's company while she got me ready for the day. God, how I missed her so much. Our comrodary, her stupid jokes and her gentle mannerisms with my matters. On the other hand, my personal maid at Alistair's house was assigned to me specifically to make me leave on my own, which meant I would suffer by her hand when she would dress me, so I resorted to tending to myself.
"All done!" She threw her hands up and I glanced at the mirror, which drew a surprised breath from my lips. I had forgotten that I had once been a beauty of the kingdom. A once desired beauty. Until I became the evil of the kingdom. But this beauty withered away with every desperate attempt I would make to make Alistair love me.
I began to hate my face, my body and anything I had to offer, because I was never good enough for him. At some point, I'd grown to hate seeing my own reflection. Upon discovering this, Alistair would send more mirrors to my room under the guise of a 'gift' that was meant to lift my spirits. Idioticly, I accepted them with a big smile on my face.
"My Lady, you're spacing out a lot today," Lulia's voice drew me back from my thoughts and I gave her a smile. "Are you okay?" I nodded, patting her hand that gently caressed my shoulder.
"Lady Dravenhart, your father requests your audience for breakfast." Another familiar face stepped into he room with that warm smile that I longed for at my marital home. I held up some length of my dress to make my journey to the dining room quickly.
My heart gleamed at the thought of seeing my parents again. Although, we were on bad terms after I called off the marriage allegiance that my father set up for me with Prince Lucian Blackwell. My obsession caused me to push my loved ones away, hurting them in many ways in the process of doing so.
Shortly after I got married and left my family home, my father went bankrupt because Alistair ran my father's business to the ground, in an attempt to make me hate him. As if that wasn't bad enough, my father committed suicide because of it, then my mother not too long after.
I never stopped blaming myself for it, even still.
I really was the villain that everyone made me out to be, but not for the reasons that they thought. I am not innocent. But that will not be the case this time.
I'm gonna rewrite my story.
As for Alistair, I will run him to the ground instead.
The majestic doors of the dining hall boomed as I pushed them open in a hurry. "Mother! Father!" I rushed to hug my mother and father who were seated at the dining table, exchanging skeptical glances.
"What's gotten into you?" My mother raised her eyebrows at me, let out a breathy chuckle. "I haven't seen you this cheerful since Alistair accepted your proposal."
The mention of his name slid over my skin like ice. I kept my smile intact.
"I'm simply happy to see you both. I had a moment of clarity this morning," I said, settling elegantly into my chair. "I've been reconsidering some of my choices."
"Such as?" My father spoke up, not looking up from his plate as he sliced into his egg. He was definitely still angry about my decision, but I was hoping to fix things with him.
"I'm calling off my engagement with Alistair."
As soon as the words left my mouth, my mother choked on her water and my father dropped his fork onto his plate. They stared at me in shock, not daring to say anything as if I would change my mind if they did.
"I've decided to cut some of the dead weight in my life." I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest. "And he's, without a question, the deadest."
"H-how come, sweetie?" My mother cleared her throat, wiping her mouth as she spoke warily. "Did he do something to upset you?" Her eyes shifted to my father who's expression had not budged.
"I've simply just decided that I don't want to marry him anymore." I grabbed my glass of milk and took a swig of it. "I have another in mind."
My father leaned in closer to me, awaiting my answer. "Whom do you wish to marry?"
"The Prince, Lucian Blackwell."