Chapter 241 TEIGEN LXXI
Sawyer’s expression sharpened with satisfaction. “Control. Finally, you say it plainly. I’ve been patient long enough. I’ve put up with her attitude, her attachment to that guard.
Tomorrow, it ends. She’ll stand beside me, quiet and obedient. No one will question it.”
Fowler nodded slightly. “Just don’t ruin it by rushing. There are people watching. If they suspect anything—”
“What we intend?” Sawyer cut in. “No. What I intend. You may have helped set this up, but I’m the one finishing it.”
Fowler’s calm broke for a moment. He grabbed Sawyer’s arm, gripping it tightly. “Don’t forget yourself. Without me, you wouldn’t be here. The Duke wouldn’t have agreed to this without my influence. Don’t confuse arrogance with power.”
For a second, the air between them felt tight.
Then Sawyer pulled his arm free. The smile returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Fair enough. I remember what you’ve done. And I won’t forget it.”
Fowler let out a slow breath and looked back toward the manor, its windows glowing faintly in the distance.
“Then let’s not argue about it,” he said. “What matters is tomorrow. The Duke will sign, thinking he’s securing his future. And while he does, everything else will fall into place.”
Sawyer tilted his head slightly. “Everything else,” he repeated. “That’s a nice way to put it.”
A torch nearby flickered hard in the wind, casting long shadows across the garden.
Fowler spoke again, quieter this time. “Do you think she knows? Even a little? About what’s coming?”
Sawyer smiled. “Let her guess. Let her hope for escape. It will only make it worse when she realizes she has none. That’s the point. There’s no way out for her.”
Fowler’s face hardened. “Just make sure she’s alive for it. The Duke won’t forgive losing her before the contract is signed.”
“She’ll live,” Sawyer said. “She’s too stubborn not to. She’ll fight until she can’t anymore. And then it will be over.”
He paused, his voice dropping. “By tomorrow, the Duke will celebrate. And she…” He smiled again. “She’ll understand what it means to belong to me.”
The words hung in the air.
Above them, the clouds shifted, and the moon finally showed through. Pale light spread across the garden, making the roses look almost white.
Sawyer stood tall, clearly pleased with himself. Fowler looked more serious, as if he understood the cost of what they were doing.
Neither spoke for a while. Only the wind moved through the garden.
Finally, Fowler broke the silence. “Then it’s set. Tomorrow, everything becomes real. And once it starts, there’s no going back.”
Sawyer’s smile widened. “Exactly. Tomorrow changes everything. And no one will stop it.”
A torch flickered again. Somewhere far off, a bird cried out into the night.
And in the garden, the two men stood in the shadows, waiting for morning.
~
Morning came too soon.
Elara sat in front of her mirror as pale light slipped through the tall windows. The curtains moved slightly with the breeze, softening the daylight. She had sat here many times before.
Watching her hair being done. Watching her face prepared for balls and court gatherings. Back then, she had been the Duke’s daughter. Admired. Displayed. Perfect.
Now, she barely recognized herself.
Her reflection felt distant. Like it belonged to someone else.
Augustine stood behind her, carefully working through her hair. The auburn strands shone in the light as they were twisted and pinned into place. Every braid was neat, every curl controlled.
Elara remembered when her hair had been loose, falling freely as she laughed with Ryker in the quiet warmth of the cabin.
This version of her looked… contained.
Camilla leaned closer, brushing powder lightly across Elara’s face. Her hands were gentle, but her eyes were red, like she had been holding back tears. No one spoke. The room was quiet except for small movements, fabric shifting, a chair scraping softly.
They were dressing her. Not like a bride, like something already gone.
Behind her, the gown lay on the bed. White silk, shining softly in the morning light. It looked beautiful. Too beautiful. Beside it, the veil rested on the table, thin and light.
Elara reached out without thinking and touched it. The fabric clung slightly to her fingers.
She pulled her hand back quickly. “Stay still, my lady,” Augustine said quietly. Her voice trembled just a little. She placed a steadying hand on Elara’s shoulder.
Elara didn’t answer. Ryker.
The thought hit her again, sharp and painful. She could see him in her mind. Weak. Chained. Hurt. She imagined him being dragged to his death while she stood here, dressed like this.
Her chest tightened.
While she was being given away, he would die.
Her hands curled tightly in her lap. Camilla, Phillipa, and Winnie noticed, but they said nothing. They kept working, their faces pale.
“Almost done,” Camilla whispered.
Phillipa picked up the gown. It spilled over her arms as she carried it forward. Augustine helped Elara stand.
The dress slipped over her shoulders, cool and heavy. They adjusted it, tied it, smoothed it until everything sat perfectly.
Then came the veil.
Augustine paused before placing it. For a moment, she just stood there, holding it, her expression tight. Then she lowered it gently over Elara’s head.
The world softened behind it. Elara took a slow breath, she was ready.
For something else entirely, not love or this marriage.
They walked her through the corridors.
Camilla held her hand. Phillipa carried the train of the dress. Winnie stayed close, steadying her when she faltered. Augustine followed behind them.
The guards along the way bowed as she passed. Elara felt their eyes on her, but she didn’t look at them. She wanted to scream. To tell them this wasn’t a wedding.
But she stayed silent.
Each step felt heavier than the last. The veil blurred everything slightly. The sound of her footsteps echoed in her ears.
Then they reached the doors. Tall and carved.
They opened. Inside, the hall was quieter than she expected. Only a few people stood within. Advisors, witnesses.
A handful of nobles. Their voices faded as she entered.