The path was brown as it was covered with several fallen brown leaves. The servant had raked it earlier on, but this was Autumn when they shed their leaves.
Cedric held Abrielle's little hands in his hold as they strolled towards the stables; it would have been a quiet, romantic walk if it wasn't for a psychopath who was holding her hand. His hands were rough evidence of his experience on the battlefield. After all, he was tossed to survive the gruesome world of war at the tender age of 14.
Walking with Cedric at this moment seemed peaceful, but Abrielle was on her guard; this psychopath could flip at any moment without the slightest indication of why.
How she wished divorce was possible, but in this world, the only thing that can separate a marriage is death, especially a royal marriage. Most royals who get sick of their wife normally frame them with treason to get them executed.
