Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 259 - Two Hundred And Fifty Eight

The carriage wheels skidded on the loose gravel as it came to a halt in the main courtyard. The horses snorted, their breath forming white clouds in the biting winter air.

Marissa didn’t wait for the carriage to stop fully. She didn’t wait for the footman to jump down from his box and open the door. She pushed the heavy door open herself, almost stumbling as her boots hit the ground hard.

She looked around frantically. Her eyes scanned the empty courtyard, searching for the dark hair, the broad shoulders, the handsome face and warm smile she had dreamed of for months.

"Where is he?" Marissa asked. Her voice was tight with panic, a high, thin sound in the cold air.

She looked at Lily, who had followed her out, her face pale.

"Where is he?" Marissa repeated, her voice rising. "Where is he? He should have been here by now."

Lily lowered her eyes, wringing her hands in her apron. "They stopped at the barracks first, Your Grace," Lily said, trying to sound hopeful, though her voice wavered. "To debrief. To file the reports with the generals. They should be on their way now. Any minute."

Marissa sighed. " Very well then. Have the kitchen prepare his favorite meal. He must have been hungry from the journey and crave something good to eat."

Just then, the sound of hooves echoed down the road. It was a heavy, rhythmic thundering that grew louder with every second.

Marissa’s heart leaped in joy. She took a step forward.

A group of riders came into view through the main gates. They rode tall horses, their armor clinking.

They carried a banner—the Thompson family crest, the roaring lion on a field of black. But the banner was not flying high in victory. It was not snapping proudly in the wind.

It was draped low. It was tied with a thick black ribbon that fluttered mournfully in the wind.

The color of death.

Carlos rode at the front. He was wearing a new uniform, one that looked too clean for a war. He was flanked by a few soldiers, their faces grim and set, their eyes fixed on the ground.

Marissa stood frozen. She waited. She waited for the black mare to appear from behind the others. She waited for the tall figure in the commander’s coat. She waited for Derek to ride through the gate, smiling at her, teasing her about being impatient.

But there was no sign of him. There was no black mare. There was no Derek.

Carlos dismounted. He swung his leg over the horse and landed on the ground. He adjusted his coat. He walked toward her, his face composed into a mask of deep, solemn grief. But there was something in his walk—a lightness, a bounce—that didn’t match the expression on his face.

He stopped a few feet away from her.

Marissa stared at him. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt her ribs. It felt like a drum beating a retreat.

"Where is His Grace?" Marissa demanded.

Her voice was sharp, cutting through the silence of the courtyard. "Why isn’t he with you? Is he hurt? Is he in the barracks?"

Carlos bowed his head. He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself to deliver a terrible burden. He clasped his hands in front of him.

"Sister in law," Carlos said softly. "I have... I have terrible news."

Marissa took a step back. She shook her head.

"No. What do you mean by that?"

Carlos looked up. His eyes were sad, glistening with what looked like tears. But deep down, behind the sadness, there was a flicker of satisfaction. A gleam of triumph that he couldn’t quite hide.

"After the war was won," Carlos said, his voice somber and low, "Brother was ambushed. A Mercian soldier... an assassin... he struck from the shadows. It was unexpected. It was brutal."

Carlos paused. He let the silence hang for a moment, letting the weight of the words settle.

"He is dead," Carlos whispered.

The world tilted.

The ground seemed to drop out from under Marissa’s feet. The sky spun. The colors of the world faded into grey. The sound of the wind roared in her ears, drowning out everything else.

"Dead?" she repeated. The word felt foreign on her tongue. It felt like a stone.

Then, she laughed.

It was a sharp, incredulous sound. A laugh of pure disbelief. It sounded brittle in the cold air.

"Impossible," Marissa said. She shook her head again, more violently this time, her disheveled hair whipping around her face. "He promised. He promised me he would come back. He swore it on the ancestors. He is Derek. He is the Grand Duke. He can’t die. He is the strongest man I know."

She looked at the gate, expecting him to ride through, laughing at the joke.

"Derek!" She shouted. " it is not funny anymore." She looked around to see if he would come out and say he was teasing her. " Derek Thompson! Come out here. Now!"

Carlos reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, black velvet cloth. He unfolded it slowly, reverently, as if he were handling a holy relic.

Lying on the cloth was a silver locket.

It was battered. The metal was scratched and dented, as if it had hit rocks. The silver chain was snapped. The latch was broken, hanging open on its hinge.

Carlos held it out to her. His hand was steady.

"This," Carlos said, "was found below the cliff. Where he fell. It was the only thing we could recover."

Marissa stared at the locket. Her breath caught in her throat.

Her hand reached out, trembling. Her fingers were numb. She took it. The metal was cold against her skin, freezing cold.

She ran her thumb over the surface, feeling the engraving of her name. Marissa. She felt the dent that was made from the fall.

She remembered giving it to him. She remembered the firelight in the bedroom. She remembered telling him to wear it over his heart. She remembered him promising to keep it safe.

She looked inside.

The glass covering the painting was cracked. A spiderweb of fractures obscured the miniature painting of herself. But the face was still there. The smile was still there.

"Alas," Carlos spoke, his voice heavy with fake sorrow. "The dead cannot return. I will report my brother’s achievements in Strathmore to the King. I will petition for posthumous honors. He will be remembered as a hero. A martyr for the kingdom."

Marissa looked at the locket. Then she looked at Carlos.

The shock began to fade, replaced by a cold, burning fire in her chest. It was the fire of denial.

"Alive," Marissa said, her voice shaking with rage, "I see him. Dead, I see his corpse."

She raised the locket, clutching it in her fist so hard the broken edges cut into her palm. She looked at Carlos with anger, her eyes blazing.

"You returned with only this," she hissed, "and declared him dead? Where is his body? Where is he?"

Carlos sighed. He looked at the ground, feigning helplessness.

"The current carried his body, sister in law," Carlos said. "He fell from a great height into the frozen river. The water is deep and fast. He couldn’t have survived the fall. The water took him. We searched for hours, but the river... it keeps what it takes."

"No," Marissa whispered. " I refuse to believe this. He is strong. He would swim. He would fight. He wouldn’t leave me."

She looked around at the soldiers behind Carlos. They looked down, unable to meet her gaze.

She looked for a familiar face. She looked for the one man who would never leave Derek’s side.

"Where is Ian?" Marissa asked.

Her voice rose.

"Ian is his aide," Marissa said. "His personal guard. He never leaves Derek’s side. If Derek is dead, Ian should be here to tell me. Why hasn’t he returned to tell me this himself?"

Carlos shrugged. It was a casual gesture that infuriated her.

"Brother fell," Carlos said, "and Ian... Ian disappeared. We couldn’t find him either. Maybe the remainder of the plague caught up with him. Or maybe he ran away in shame for failing his master. Cowards often run when their lord falls."

Marissa’s eyes were red with unshed tears. She didn’t believe him. Not for a second. Ian was not a coward. Ian was a Shadow. He would have died before he ran.

"His Grace falls," Marissa said, her voice rising to a shout, "and his aide vanishes? And you return, safe and sound, with a locket and a half baked story? You, who have never held a sword in battle?"

She stepped closer to Carlos. She looked him in the eye. She saw the dilation of his pupils.

"How can this be a coincidence?" she demanded.

She saw the flicker of fear in Carlos’s eyes. She saw the lie hiding behind the grief.

"What truly happened in Strathmore?" Marissa asked, her voice laced with anger, the rim of her eyelid looking like they would burst into tears at any moment.