After He Killed My Kin, I Rejected Him

Chapter 7

A rare edelweiss was ground viciously into the mud, its pure white petals crushed and scattered, utterly stripped of its delicate former shape.

"No!"

Solenne's pupils constricted sharply. Her mind went completely blank, and she lunged forward on pure instinct, fingers clamping like a vice around Olivia's ankle.

The sudden yank made Olivia stumble to a halt. She reflexively pulled her foot back, then immediately slammed it down hard on the back of Solenne's hand without a single ounce of hesitation.

A searing, stabbing pain erupted through her whole hand in an instant. Solenne's brows knit so tightly they almost merged, her fingertips turning blue-white from the agony, but she refused to let go. This edelweiss was the only rare medicinal herb that could save the old lord, her only glimmer of hope. She could not lose it, not for anything.

Olivia stared down at Solenne, who was prostrate in the dirt and covered in mud, a faint, mocking smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Then she turned on her heel and strode away without a second glance.

The biting pain blurred Solenne's vision and sent tremors wracking through her whole body. She paid no mind to the severe injury on her hand, carefully tucking the mud-caked edelweiss into the silk handkerchief she carried with her, clutching it so tight in her palm her knuckles went white. Then she staggered at a full sprint toward the noble estate.

The moment she burst through the main gate of the manor, she spotted Evren standing under the porch.

As if she had grabbed hold of her last lifeline, she rushed straight to him, gasping for breath, her eyes brimming with desperate hope. "Dr. Fenwick, I got the edelweiss. We can compound the medicine right now to save Grandfather."

Evren's gaze drifted slowly, first landing on the gnarled, fresh scrape on her forehead, then fixing on the tattered, dirt-streaked herb in her hand.

His chest clenched sharply. He could not bear to look any longer, turning his head away. His Adam's apple bobbed a few times before he finally spoke, his words cold and cruel.

"It's too late."

Solenne's pupils shrank to pinpricks, it felt as though all the blood in her body had frozen solid. She shoved Evren aside hard and sprinted into the bedroom without stopping for anything.

Marcella, who had been kneeling by the bed, looked over at the sound. When she saw Solenne covered in cuts and bruises, looking haggard and broken, her eyes instantly flushed red, tears pooling at her lash line.

Solenne stared unblinkingly at the old lord on the bed, who was breathing his last and deathly pale. Her brain went totally dead quiet, every sound around her fading into dead silence.

She dragged her stiff legs to the side of the bed and dropped heavily to her knees, trembling as she wrapped her fingers around her grandfather's bony, ice-cold hand. She choked out a whisper, "Grandfather, wake up. I brought the medicine that will save you. You'll be all better soon..."

Maybe he heard her broken sobs. The old lord, who had been on the brink of death and showing no sign of life, fluttered his eyelids slightly and forced his clouded eyes open with great effort.

"Grandfather!" Solenne broke down, sobbing in relief and joy right away, hot tears dripping onto the old man's dry, weathered hand.

"Don't cry..."

The old lord gazed weakly at his battered, gaunt youngest granddaughter, then shifted his eyes to Marcella, who was fighting back tears and looked deathly pale. His clouded eyes brimmed with an ocean of sorrow and guilt that would never wash away.

"Solenne... Marcella..." He mustered the last dregs of his strength to clasp both girls' hands together, stacking them gently in his own palm.

"Grandpa's failed you... I couldn't protect you. The worst mistake I ever made was arranging those betrothals for you both, setting you up to waste your lives on bad matches.

"Once I'm gone, you two only have each other. Stick together, look out for one another, and live well."

The old lord had lived his whole life with unshakable integrity, never once compromising the proud backbone of his noble house. But at the very end of his life, he could hold back his tears no longer. Murky tears tracked down his cheeks, soaking the deep wrinkles fanning out from the corners of his eyes.

Solenne was already sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. A dull, heavy ache twisted in her chest, and a suffocating wave of pain rolled over every inch of her body.

She bit down so hard on her jaw her teeth ached, forcing back the coppery taste of blood rising in her throat, too terrified to let her guard slip for even a second.

The old lord's gentle gaze drifted slowly over both his granddaughters' faces. His pupils began to glaze over, and his life force drained away in seconds.

"It's... grandfather who's sorry... for you both..."

His faint whisper dissipated into thin air. The warmth in his palm vanished all at once, leaving only bone-deep cold in its place.

Watching her grandfather's eyes flutter shut for the last time, Solenne shook so hard she could barely stand, on the brink of total collapse.

"Grandpa, we promised we'd get through this winter together. You said you'd wait to see us settled and happy... You can't break your promise..." She clung tight to his ice-cold hand, pleading in a low, ragged voice thick with utter despair.

"Solenne..." Marcella forced down her own grief, pulling her crumbling sister tight into her arms as silent tears streamed down her face. "From now on, it's just the two of us in this whole manor."

It felt like an invisible hand had ripped her heart clean open. Agony flooded every nerve in her body. The next second, Solenne was wracked by a violent coughing fit, and a splash of warm blood spilled uncontrollably from the corner of her mouth.

"Solenne!"

The last thing she saw before consciousness slipped into total darkness was her sister's face, twisted in terror and blind panic.

When she woke again, low, solemn funeral music wrapped around the entire manor, heavy with oppressive sorrow that seeped into every corner of the grounds.

Solenne shot bolt upright in bed, ignoring the aching, heavy weakness in her limbs. She threw off the covers and stumbled out of bed, then headed outside.

The entire manor was strung with pure white mourning decorations. Everywhere she looked was a stark, somber white, shrouded in a suffocating, impenetrable silence.

When she reached the entrance to the front hall, she froze dead in her tracks.

Under the porch, white gauze lanterns etched with mourning patterns swayed gently in the cool breeze. At the center of the funeral hall, in front of the dark, somber casket, Marcella knelt alone. Her thin, hunched back radiated unending loneliness.

After a long, quiet moment, Solenne dragged her stiff, heavy legs to her sister's side and slowly sank to her knees.

Marcella turned her head to look at her, her eyes heavy with heartache and worry. Her tone held a rare, sharp seriousness. "I asked Dr. Fenwick about your condition, and he wouldn't give me a straight answer. Solenne, tell me what's really going on with you."

Solenne's chest clenched tight. Her fingers curled slightly, and she stayed silent for a long beat before answering in a low, rough rasp, "It's lung disease."

"You're lying!" Marcella's voice sharpened, her eyes glinting with anxiety and disbelief. "A regular lung disease will never make you cough up blood. Solenne, tell me the truth!"

A sharp ache stung the back of Solenne's nose, and hot tears welled up behind her eyes.

She couldn't hold herself together any longer. She turned and threw her arms tight around Marcella, her voice muffled and wobbly as she sobbed, "I'm not lying to you, Sis."

Marcella was still brimming with doubt, and was just about to press her further when sharp, distinct footsteps echoed from the doorway.

Solenne turned to look on instinct, and all the blood drained from her face in an instant, her breath catching in her throat.

The person standing there was Olivia.