Chapter 2Three Years at the Northern Frontier

In my last life, Joseph had used those exact same words.

Five years ago, the enemy launched a surprise attack on our camp. It was his deputy, Liz's husband, who had thrown himself in front of Joseph, saving his life. With his dying breath, the man had entrusted his wife and children to Joseph's care.

From that day forward, he brought Liz and her children to live with us.

At first, he and Liz maintained a semblance of propriety. Any needs she or her children had were communicated through me. He doted on our own children. Liz and I even managed a cordial relationship.

But somewhere along the way, his focus shifted entirely to her. If Liz or her children so much as coughed, he would shamelessly stay by their side all night. Yet when my own children needed their father, he would always use the excuse of military duties.

Then came the King's order for him to return to the Capital.

He told me that Liz, a widow with two young children, would face gossip and hardship if left alone. He reminded me of his deathbed promise to his deputy. He would take them back to the Capital first, he said, and send for me and our children later, when things were settled.

I understood that a debt of life was paramount. I agreed without hesitation.

I never imagined that his "later" would mean three full years.

I never imagined he could be so heartless as to completely abandon his own flesh and blood, while cherishing another man's.

I had written to him, my letters filled with hopeful questions about when he would send for us. I never received a single word in reply.

In my last life, I understood his burden. I sympathized with his difficult position. I was grateful for the sacrifice Liz's husband had made. So no matter how hard life on the frontier became, I gritted my teeth and endured it with my children. Every time they asked when their father was coming, I would invent excuses for him. During our time on the run, I would rather eat wild roots with them than sell the jade pendant he had given me.

And what was my reward?

The cold corpses of my children and a letter of divorce.

Even the title of Young Lord, which rightfully belonged to my son, was to be stolen by hers.

How could I accept that? How could I not hate him?

So, in this new life, I would rewrite our destiny.

Just as I was about to speak, Liz's soft voice cut in. "Brother Joseph, Sister Aurelia, perhaps you can have your private conversation later. The children are hungry. Let us eat first."

The staff had no idea I was coming today, yet the dining table was laden with roasted fowl, fish, and glistening meats. This, clearly, was their everyday fare.

My children's eyes lit up at the sight of the feast. They began stuffing food into their mouths without a shred of decorum. Their manners were crude, uncultured. But I did not stop them.

I knew how long it had been since they'd had a full meal.

But some are not so understanding.

"Mother, why are we eating with three beggars? It's disgusting!"

Liz's older daughter, Celia, glared at my children with open contempt.

I had no patience for it. I slammed my chopsticks down on the table with a loud crack.

"Who are you calling a beggar?"

Seeing my fury, Liz quickly scolded her daughter. "Celia! How dare you speak to the lady of the house that way? Apologize at once, or you'll have no dinner."

Celia's face was defiant. "Why should I apologize? I'm not wrong!"

"Fine, I won't eat! I'm sick of this food anyway!"

With that, she stormed off.

Liz offered me a perfunctory apology, then took her son Conrad's hand and followed her daughter out.

Joseph, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, looked furious.

After the meal, he had a maid take my children for a bath. Once we were alone in the dining hall, he finally spoke.

"Aurelia, when are you and the children returning to the frontier?"

I gave him a strange look. "Why would we return? We have no intention of going back."

The moment the words left my mouth, I heard the sound of a teacup shattering just outside the hall. I looked up to see Liz's retreating back.

A flicker of worry crossed Joseph's face, and his tone became frayed with impatience. "What do you mean you're not going back?"

"Aurelia, we had an agreement..."

I cut him off. "Joseph, you have killed countless enemy soldiers. Their families see my children and me as targets for their revenge. And how am I, a lone woman, supposed to raise two children on the frontier? If you send us back, we will either be murdered by your enemies or starve to death."

My voice hardened. "And do not forget, they are your flesh and blood."

Joseph frowned. "I sent men to protect you. I sent money and grain every month. How could you not be able to care for the children?"