My Magistrate Husband Drew His Sword When the Priest Claimed Our Son Carried His Slain Enemy's Soul — But the Truth in the Safe Changed Everything
My path to Julian was blocked by Caleb’s unwavering loyalty and Garth’s lie. There was no reasoning with a guard who believed he was saving 340 souls from an unseen plague. I had to find another way, another truth.
I pulled my heavy cloak tighter against the pre-dawn chill. The only place left to seek answers was outside Oakhaven, at the valley border. Four miles lay between the manor and the Red Ridge bridge, a journey I undertook as the sun finally crested the mountains, painting the sky in fiery streaks.
The Red Ridge border was a desolate place, scarred by the old battle, whispers of which still haunted the town. A few dilapidated shacks stood near the tumbling river, home to families too stubborn or too poor to leave.
As I approached the old wooden bridge, I saw a solitary figure. A tall, grizzled man, his back bent over a wagon wheel. Sparks flew from his hands as he hammered at a metal rim. Elias Kidd, the itinerant blacksmith. He traveled the fringes of the valley, mending tools and forging simple ironware, rarely venturing into Oakhaven proper.
His old carriage, laden with tools and supplies, sat precariously balanced. He looked up as my footsteps crunched on the gravel. His eyes, sharp and intelligent despite his age, took in my Sutton crest.
“Magistrate’s wife,” Elias said, his voice raspy from years of shouting over the forge. He wiped a hand across his brow, leaving a smudge of soot. “Unusual to see you so far from your hearth at this hour.”
“I seek answers, Mr. Kidd,” I replied, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “About Red Ridge. And the battle twenty years ago.”
Elias paused, his hammer resting on the wheel. He studied my face, then glanced back at his work. “Some truths are better left buried, Lady Clara.”
“Not when they threaten to bury my son,” I countered. “Tell me about Thaddeus Fairfax. The man Garth killed.”
Elias slowly set down his tools. He reached into a leather pouch at his waist and pulled out a tarnished silver locket. It was heavy, intricately carved with a familiar dragon motif. My stomach clenched. Julian’s birthmark.
“Thaddeus Fairfax was no invading tyrant, Lady Clara,” Elias stated, his gaze fixed on the locket. “He was Garth Sutton’s elder half-brother. Born of the same mother, but a different father. The true heir to Oakhaven, by the old ways.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Garth’s brother? Not an enemy king, but kin? My mind reeled. All these years, the story, the fear, the dragon mark…
“Garth murdered him,” Elias continued, his voice devoid of emotion, simply stating fact. “Right there, on this bridge. Twenty years ago. During a private truce. While I, foolishly, waited with their horses.”
He paused, then added, “Thaddeus had just arrived with the new land charter. The one that granted Oakhaven its $14,000 annual tax income, tied to his family name, the Fairfax line. Garth wanted it all. The lordship, the money. So he took it.”
He flipped open the locket. Inside, a miniature painting of a stern-faced man, undeniably Julian’s features echoed in his face. And etched into the back of the locket was a small, ornate ‘F’. Fairfax.
My entire world tilted. The enemy was family. The battle was a betrayal. And Garth’s fear wasn’t of a supernatural curse, but of this very truth. Elias Kidd had just handed me not merely a secret, but the entire, bloody history of Oakhaven.
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