My Mother Forced Me to Marry a Stone Statue to End a War — On Our Wedding Night, I Felt My Dead Fiancée's Heartbeat Inside the Marble
I slipped out of the castle just after midnight, shrouded in a borrowed, heavy cloak that swallowed my royal insignia. The guards at the lower gate were lax, accustomed to me wandering in my grief, and I passed them without a challenge.
The air in the harbor district tasted of salt and stale fish, a stark contrast to the perfumed halls of the palace. I walked with purpose, my mind fixed on the impossible task of understanding alchemical stonework.
My search led me to a narrow, bustling alley known for its artisan workshops and, more often, its shady dealings. A faint glow emanated from a low-ceilinged tavern, The Kraken’s Coil, its windows grimy with sea spray and years of smoke.
Inside, the smell of cheap ale and sawdust clung to the air. A few patrons huddled over drinks, their faces shadowed. I scanned the room, looking for anything that hinted at stone, at alchemy.
Then I saw him. A man with rough, calloused hands and eyes that darted around nervously, hunched over a small, intricately carved alabaster figure. It was a goddess of the sea, swirling drapery captured in the stone, beautiful in its detail.
“You’re a stonemason,” I said, my voice low.
He flinched, his hand flying to cover the carving. “Just a common carver, your grace,” he mumbled, recognizing my voice despite the cloak. His eyes, though, were sharp, too knowing.
“This,” I pressed, gesturing to the carving, “this kind of detail. It speaks of a rare skill.”
He hesitated, then slowly uncovered his work. “Gideon Frost, at your service.” His gaze lingered on me, a flicker of fear mixed with something else. Recognition.
I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I need to know about a statue. One made of alabaster. One that breathes.”
Gideon’s breath hitched. His face went pale, draining of all color. He pushed his half-empty tankard away.
“I don’t know what you speak of, your grace,” he said, too quickly, his hands trembling.
“My fiancée, Clara,” I stated, watching him closely. “Three years ago, my mother said she drowned. Now, a statue arrives. A treaty bride. With Clara’s face. Clara’s heartbeat.”
His shoulders sagged as if a great weight had been placed upon them. He looked around the emptying tavern, then met my eyes with a grim resignation.
“The Queen Dowager,” he whispered, “she sought me out. Three years ago this spring. She heard of my… unique skills.”
He pushed a small pouch across the table. It clinked softly. “This was my payment. Five thousand gold sovereigns. More than I’d seen in a lifetime.”
My gut clenched. Five thousand gold. A king’s ransom for a commoner.
“Why?” I demanded, my voice raw.
“To preserve her,” Gideon explained, his gaze fixed on the table. “To prevent your marriage to a common botanist. To secure her dynastic ambitions. She called it ‘a gift to the future,’ a way to hold onto a political pawn without the scandal of a direct murder.”
He lifted his eyes, haunted. “She claimed the girl was already gone, lost to a river accident, and that I was merely preserving her memory for you, until a suitable bride could be found. I never saw the girl alive, your grace. Only the body, already prepared.”
I felt a cold rage spread through me, numbing my hands. My mother, Eleanor. She hadn’t just prevented our marriage. She had imprisoned Clara, alive, in stone.
“She told me Clara drowned,” I said, the words tasting like ash. “She orchestrated my breakdown, my three years of grief.”
Gideon nodded slowly. “She is a formidable woman, your grace. She swore me to secrecy under threat of execution. Said no one would believe a mad king’s ramblings if he spoke of a living statue.”
“Is there a way to reverse it?” I asked, my voice barely audible. “To free her?”
He looked away, his expression grim. “The resin is a delicate thing. It was designed to last. But there might be a way. A legend, mostly. Forged in desperation by an ancient lineage of alchemists.”
“Tell me everything,” I commanded, pushing the gold pouch back towards him. “I’ll give you double whatever she paid. Triple. Just tell me how to bring Clara back.”
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