The next morning, my chamber felt cold despite the rising sun.
A soft light danced on the edge of my wooden table, where a letter lay—inked in black, sealed in red. The insignia of the Kingdom of Etruria-Rassena was etched into the corner: a three-headed lion with frozen eyes.
My hands trembled as I broke the silver seal and unfolded it.
A single sentence stared back:
"For the crime of forbidden relationship, Arturo Dali Machiavelli is found guilty and sentenced to death under the law of the Kingdom of Etruria-Rassena."
My breath caught. The world tilted beneath me; my heart thundered in my chest. I read the words again and again, praying it was a nightmare. But the ink wouldn't fade. I folded the letter, collapsing to the floor, my chest aching.
A death sentence.
This was the punishment for our love. Every lecture and promise now curdled bitter in my heart: even our affection had been sanctified as sin.
