Spring Hills Hold No Autumn

By the fourth day in the water dungeon, Eva had grown numb.

The wound over her heart, reopened daily for the ritual, had become a raw, jagged gash; with each passing day, her complexion grew paler. Every time the blade pierced her chest, another root of what had once been bone-deep love was torn out. Her obsession with Dylan faded alongside her vitality—now little more than a flickering, feeble ember.

At dusk, the cell door suddenly swung open.

Dylan had come. He barely recognized the woman before him as Eva. “What happened to her?”

A jailer hurried to explain. “The imperial physician insisted this is the only way to draw out the curse completely, so it doesn’t spread to Lady Susan.”

Dylan’s brow furrowed. After a moment of silence, he sighed. “My birthday is in two days. Take her out of here for now—confine her to the Cold Palace. She can be returned afterward.”

As the guards unlocked her chains, Eva collapsed face-first into the filthy water. She tried to push herself up but found she lacked even the strength to lift her hand.

Dylan bent down and seized her wrist. “Do you admit your guilt?”

Eva managed a strained smile. “Your Majesty, after all these years, you should know my nature.”

Pressing his lips together, Dylan suppressed his anger. “I knew you were arrogant and uncouth. But I never thought you would dare harm my child.”

Eva pushed her wet hair back, her gaze locking directly onto his. “Your Majesty must have forgotten. You once swore to heaven and earth that it would be just the two of us, forever. That you would only ever have children with *me*.”

A flicker of discomfort crossed Dylan’s face, quickly replaced by indignation. “That was before I knew what your family had done—their heinous crimes against the natural order! I’m cleansing their stain from this world, so their wretched souls might yet find peace!”

“Besides,” he continued, “I gave you a chance. Provide the forty-nine days of your heart’s blood, and I would have found a way to grant you a position.”

Even now, Dylan still believed Eva would want to stay by his side, to be used and humiliated by him. A frost of pure disdain settled over her features, her heart utterly drained, barren of all feeling.

Dylan seemed not to notice. “Spend the next few days in the Cold Palace preparing my birthday gift. Please me, and you can avoid returning to this hole.”

Eva’s cracked lips twisted. “Has Your Majesty not received enough gifts this year? The one hundred and one heads of my family… and my own—”

A violent cough cut her off, blood spraying from her mouth.

Dylan released her wrist abruptly, watching as she crashed back into the foul water. “Take her to the Cold Palace. Have a physician watch her. Don’t let her die.”

…

Eva slept through another day and night.

When she awoke, she found herself transferred from the water dungeon to the desolate, decaying Cold Palace. Mila was tending to her wound.

Eva gave a weak smile. “Save your strength. They’ll only reopen it tomorrow.”

Mila covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. “Miss, you have to escape. I’ll create a diversion, draw the Imperial Guard away—”

*BANG!*

The door was kicked open with force. Susan strode in, a squad of guards at her back. “Sister, planning a trip?”

Mila’s hand jerked—the medicated cloth she was holding plopped into the bronze basin.

Pushing herself upright, Eva refused to show weakness before Susan. “To what do I owe the honor of Lady Susan’s visit?”

Susan lifted her chin haughtily. “Do you think I’d come to this wretched place if it weren’t important?”

Suddenly, she pulled something from her sleeve and hurled it to the floor. It landed with a dull thud—a small, hastily carved wooden figure, the kind placed in a coffin to accompany the dead.