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
My blood ran cold, even as the rain continued to beat against the courtyard stones. Another ledger. More damning. What could be worse than embezzling the kingdom’s wealth and betraying its allies?
Julian, sensing my silent question, took a deep, shuddering breath. He pulled a second, smaller book from his cloak, this one bound in dark, plain leather. He pressed it into my hand.
“This,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “details her plan for after the wedding.”
I opened the ledger. The first page was marked with a single, chilling phrase in Eleanor’s own elegant hand: *Veridia – A New Age of Regency*. Below it, a meticulous, step-by-step outline.
My eyes scanned the details. “Victory Banquet preparations… seating charts… wine selections…” I read aloud, my voice flat. Then, a specific line jumped out, stark and horrifying: “Silas’s ceremonial toast – inclusion of the rare Veridian Nightshade.”
My breath hitched. Veridian Nightshade. A colorless, odorless poison, swift and untraceable. I knew the plant. Clara and I had studied its properties. It mimicked a sudden, fatal illness.
“She planned to poison you,” Julian stated, confirming the dreadful truth. His face was grim, etched with the weight of his revelation. “During the victory banquet, following the wedding. A symbolic act, ending the ‘old’ reign to usher in her new era.”
My fingers clenched around the ledger, the edges digging into my palm. It wasn’t enough for her to control me, to break my spirit. She intended to remove me entirely.
“To rule as regent,” I murmured, the full depravity of her scheme unfolding before me. “Over a vacant crown. Indefinitely.”
Julian nodded slowly. “Precisely. With you gone, and Clara a silent, permanent statue—a morbid reminder to any who might defy her—she would have absolute, unquestioned power. No heirs, no rivals for the throne. Her dream of total dynastic dominance, finally realized.”
I stared at the pages, at the casual, almost mundane details surrounding my own planned assassination. The cold, calculating precision of it all. This wasn’t just about political power; it was about absolute, tyrannical control, born of a mother’s ruthless ambition.
“She would have had the allied barons believing it was a tragic accident,” Julian continued. “A sudden, unexpected illness. They would have no reason to suspect otherwise. Especially with a new peace secured.”
I closed the ledger. The full scope of Eleanor’s cruelty, her betrayal, settled over me. She had not only imprisoned Clara and broken me; she had planned my murder.
But this knowledge, rather than paralyzing me with fear, solidified my resolve. This was no longer just about rescuing Clara. It was about exposing a tyrant, dismantling a corrupt regime, and preventing a blood-stained future for Veridia.
“Thank you, Julian,” I said, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil within. “You have given me the weapon I need.”
He looked at me, a flicker of something akin to hope in his eyes. “What will you do, Your Majesty?”
I met his gaze, a steel-hard resolve in my own. “I will give her a wedding to remember. A banquet she will never forget. And a kingdom she will never rule.”
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