Chapter 5: Torn Between Two Graves

But now, just as I’d started a new life, Sebastian reappeared—full of tender words—and he wanted Marcus dead.

It felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke. I’d barely learned to breathe again, and now the past threatened to swallow me whole.

I instinctively looked for Marcus in the crowd.

I scanned every face, heart pounding, desperate to find him before Sebastian did.

The moment our eyes met, he slowly lowered his head, as if he didn’t know me at all.

He played his part, masking his fear with stoic calm. But I saw the tremor in his hands.

Sebastian noticed. “What are you looking at?”

His voice was sharp, suspicious. I forced myself to look away, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

My voice was calm. Too calm. “Please don’t kill these people.”

I kept my tone steady, willing myself not to shake. I couldn’t let Marcus die because of me.

Sebastian took my hand, lowering his voice. “Autumn, I know you’re kind, but you’re the future queen. You’ve worked with these people for ten years—no need to let this get out.”

He squeezed my fingers, trying to reassure me. But his words felt like chains tightening around my heart.

So. He still wanted to make me queen.

The weight of expectation pressed down on me. I wanted to scream, to run, to do anything but stand there and pretend.

I forced a stiff smile, feeling suffocated, my voice trembling.

My lips barely moved, but I managed to hold it together. For now.

“So, after all these years, you’re going to erase them from the history books too?”

I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice. The crowd shifted uneasily.

Was all this really for me? Or for himself?

I wondered if he even knew who I was anymore.

Sebastian sensed my unease. “Fine, fine, we’ll let them go. For now.”

He waved a hand, as if granting a royal pardon. The tension in the room eased, but only slightly.

His deputy turned to the crowd, voice booming:

“Her Majesty the Queen is merciful—she forgives you all. Why aren’t you thanking her?”

The words rang out, heavy with irony. I felt the eyes of everyone in the room on me.

Everyone dropped to their knees, bowing their heads.

The sound was deafening, a chorus of gratitude and fear. I wanted to run, but I stood my ground.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for sparing our lives!”

Their voices echoed, hollow and desperate. I tried not to flinch.

The deputy spotted someone kneeling but silent and kicked him onto his side.

His boot connected with a thud, drawing a gasp from the crowd.

“Why aren’t you speaking? Not grateful?”

His voice was harsh, accusatory. All eyes turned to the silent man.

Marcus, tall and sharp-eyed, knelt among the crowd like a wolf among sheep.

He looked out of place, too proud to beg, too stubborn to yield. My heart twisted at the sight.

Across the crowd, our eyes met again.

A silent plea passed between us. I wanted to rush to his side, but I stayed rooted in place.

My heart thudded in my chest.

I pressed a hand to my sternum, willing myself to stay calm.

Sebastian noticed him too, narrowing his eyes as he turned to me.

His gaze sharpened, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

“Autumn, do you know him?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and dangerous.

Everyone around us drew in a sharp breath.

The tension was palpable, the room holding its breath.

My heart leapt into my throat.

I could barely breathe. My mind raced, searching for an answer that wouldn’t get Marcus killed.

How could I not know him?

Just last night, we’d tangled together in bed, his kisses still marking my skin.

The memory burned hot and bright. I could still feel the imprint of his hands on my body.

As I was about to speak, Marcus lowered his eyes, clenched his fists, and turned toward me, bowing deeply.

He played his part to perfection, hiding his pain behind a mask of obedience.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for sparing my life.”

His voice was steady, but I heard the heartbreak underneath.

My heart sank again.

I bit my lip, fighting back tears. I wanted to scream, to confess everything, but I stayed silent.

No officiant, no ceremony—just two people, thrown together by fate.

Our love wasn’t blessed by any church or witnessed by family. It was forged in hardship, in the quiet moments between storms.

If I spoke his name, wouldn’t I doom him?

The risk was too great. I couldn’t lose him now.