The General Wanted To Take A Second Wife

“Did you hear that, Your Grace?”

Griffin gritted his teeth as he struggled to suppress his rage.

“Joan already went through so much. Must you insist on pushing her so cruelly? You are a princess of a high station. Are you not going to show mercy and make room for one helpless woman?”

I watched as Griffin and Joan performed their tragic drama before my carriage with indifference and absurdity.

“Griffin, did the wasteland at the border rot every shred of sense in your head?”

I leaned forward and parted the curtain of my carriage. Then, I looked down at him from above.

“I am the sovereign here, and you’re merely a subject. You allow a woman who shared your bed out of wedlock to weep and wail before my carriage, but the one who lacks mercy is me?”

Griffin flinched under my icy gaze, but the border soldiers behind him would not back down. They were crude men who had ridden and bled alongside Griffin. What would they know of the rites between sovereign and subject?

To them, Griffin was their commander and their cause. Joan was the woman who had given their general a son.

“Your Grace, our general has spilled his blood and given his life for Cathor!” A lieutenant with a scarred face rose to his feet and said at the top of his lungs, “He only wants to grant his woman and his own child a proper place in this world. What is wrong with that? You may be royalty, but you cannot break the hearts of your loyal soldiers like this!”

Led by his outburst, the other soldiers chimed in.

“Please show mercy, Your Grace! Please accept Ms. Sonne!”

Hundreds of armor-clad men shouted in unison. Their voices thundered through the courtyard.

They were not begging for mercy. They were pressuring me.

Griffin stood at the very front of the crowd with his back straight as a ramrod.

He looked at me. It was as if he were smugly telling me that the people wanted Joan acknowledged and that I had no choice but to give in.

Ignoring the noise, I calmly looked away, lowered the curtain, and said to the coachman, “Head back to the palace.”

The coachman raised his whip and prepared to turn the carriage around. Just then, a heavy lion-headed cane slammed down hard before the horses’ hooves.

“No one will take the princess away today!” Wilma, supported by two maids, stood shakily in front of the carriage.

Though her hair had turned completely grey, her upturned eyes held undisguised sharpness and cruelty. She was a battle-hardened woman who had charged into war alongside the founding king.

With that merit, she always strode as she pleased through the capital, fearing no one. Even my father, the late king, had to show her great respect when he was alive.

“Your Grace, you’re acting pretty willful today. Where does that leave the honor of the royal family?”

Wilma leaned on her cane, her wrinkled face tight with tension.

Her tone held no respect. Only scorn.

“The Quenell family has been a great military house for a hundred years. Griffin is the royal court’s most essential man. Your carriage has already reached the front gate. Every noble and high official in the capital is watching. If you break off this wedding, are you dishonoring the Quenell family or the royal family?”

Her words were condescending and full of blame. It was as if my leaving today would make me the greatest traitor to Cathor.

With his grandmother backing him, Griffin’s confidence swelled.

He stepped forward again. His tone softened, but he still threatened me.

“Your Grace, my grandmother speaks the truth. Do not act on anger alone. The late king commanded this marriage. If you storm away today, by tomorrow, every street and alley in the capital will be whispering of your jealous and spiteful nature. When that happens, your reputation will be ruined. How will you show your face in this capital then?”

I sat quietly inside the carriage as I listened to this pair of grandmother and grandson perform their duet of reproach.

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