Benjamin knocked softly on the chamber door and stepped back as he waited for the door to open. A moment passed and out stepped Emilia dressed in a simple, white robe.

He took in the sight of her, seeing how there was no trace of buboes tainting the skin. Only light scars remained in their place. If they were from the buboes themselves or his incisions, he did not know.

"Benjamin, what are you doing here?" Her voice broke him out of his stare.

"I came by for one final visit," He answered straightaway, his eyes moving back to her puzzled face.

"Oh, you came at a perfect time then." She clasped her hands together. If they had ever been stained black, one would not be able to tell. "Tomorrow is the wedding and–"

"I know. That is why I am here." He shifted on his feet; his leather coat scrunching with his movements.

"Yet, you did not have to wear that terrible mask." She gave a nervous smile. "I doubt I am still infected."

"I could not be too certain. I am sure you understand." He dipped his head.

Emilia averted her gaze downwards. "Of course. I should not question your judgment. You clearly know more about diseases than I."

Benjamin gave a pleased nod. "May I come in then?"

"Yes, please do." She stepped aside, letting him pass. He heard the door shut from behind him, and knew they were alone. He froze, his eyes immediately drawn to the white gown spread on the bed.

Emilia must have noticed his stare since she came up from behind him and asked, "Do you like it?"

He nodded slowly and turned away from it. Away from her. "Yes. 'Tis very beautiful."

Her fingers brushed up against the fabric, tracing the pattern on the bodice. "Thank you. I wanted it to be simple, nothing too elaborate."

Benjamin did not respond, letting a deafening silence seize the room. Emilia continued staring at the gown, an unreadable expression etched on her face.

Around them, the chamber seemed to grow smaller. More claustrophobic. But for Emilia, it probably always felt this way. Benjamin wondered how she had not gone mad from being trapped in here all this time. Waking up to the same gray sight each day would drive even the strongest mind insane.

"Have you experienced any symptoms, my lady? Any pain, nausea, chills, or fever?" He pushed away his previous thoughts, remembering what he was here for.

"None," she whispered.

"Have other parts of your skin started turning black?"

She shook her head, still not willing to look at him.

"Lady Emilia–"

"I am fine, Benjamin. I would know if I was becoming sick again." Her response was biting, something he had never heard from her before.

From outside, the ominous caw of a crow echoed into the room.

She sighed and spun around to face him. "I apologize. I did not mean to–"

"Lady Emilia, you do not have to do this," he interrupted, sensing what this was really about. "If you do not love St. Clair, then do not marry him."

Emilia blinked, clearly surprised by his remark. "I–I must. He asked for my hand. 'Tis too late to refuse him now."

"You are only setting yourself up for a life filled with unhappiness," he tried to explain, unable to understand why she could not withdraw from this engagement.

"This arrangement will benefit my family greatly," she answered with no hint of mirth in her voice. "I would be a fool to refuse this chance."

"Forgive me for what I am about to say, Lady Emilia, but I read your letter from–from the other knight. Why not wed him instead? I assume he also holds a high title."

This question seemed to produce a dark countenance over her soft features. Her eyes hardened and her voice turned even more bitter. "I cannot. He has been recently engaged to an Iberian baroness."

"I have no choice," she continued. "This is my fate and I must accept it."

"I understand, my lady." He dipped his head, figuring there was no use in arguing anymore. She had already decided that duty trumped love.

"I want to extend the invitation to you. After all, 'tis because of you I will be standing at the altar." She offered him a sad smile.

"I thank you, my lady. But I do not think it would be appropriate for a lowly apprentice to be there."

"Of course it would," she protested. "As I have said, I owe my life to you. You saved me."

Benjamin glanced towards the window. The sunlight had disappeared beneath a cloud, painting the room even grayer. He could hear the crow calling from within a tree.

It was true he had saved her. He already knew that. But to hear her express those words filled him with a feeling he had never known before. It was more than pride but less than tenderness.

Emilia took a step closer to him, yet the space between them never seemed further. "Your silence speaks greater than any answer you could give."

"I suppose I will not see you again." Her words were more of a realization than a question.

"'Tis unlikely." His voice was deeper than he preferred, coming off as cold and callous.

"Then, may I see your face?" She took another step, her eyes filled with warmth and curiosity. "Please?"

He shook his head, denying her request. "I am afraid not."

She cast her eyes to the floor and he could no longer see the emotion within them. "The Eldridges thank you for your service and will be sure to pay you in full."

Benjamin turned to leave, but not before giving her one last word of encouragement. "I wish you happiness, Lady Emilia. I hope you do not live to regret your choice."

He opened the door and stepped out, leaving the woman alone in her isolated and gloomy chamber.

**

He first heard the shouts from his dwelling. Then, came the sounds of feet running on the cobblestone.

Benjamin peered out the window, curious about the commotion spreading throughout the city. Snow flurries swirled like ash in the wind, covering buildings and streets in a layer of white. Some even gathered on his hair and coat, clinging to them before melting into liquid.

Finding himself drawn to the crowd, Benjamin followed the excited citizens to the steps of the castle where a platform had been constructed. He pushed through the peasants, trying to catch a glimpse of what could possibly have brought such a throng there in spite of the cold. He struggled to get through as the people pushed back against him. But eventually, he saw what had lured them there.

An execution was about to take place.

A loud wail to the side drew his attention. At the front of the crowd, held back by two knights, stood a family. The mother was sobbing uncontrollably while the father looked to the platform stony-faced.

He knew this family, something within him told him so. But it was the brother Benjamin recognized. His head snapped back to the platform and his breath caught in his throat. Lead onto the wooden stage was a woman he knew many months ago. One he thought he had saved from death.

But this was not how he remembered her. The Emilia he remembered did not have matted curls or a sunken face. She did not have lines creasing her eyes and cheeks. She was young, not old and worn-looking like the one standing here.

"Strip the whore!" someone cried from behind him.

"Beat her!" Another shouted to the left of him.

Emilia trembled, but Benjamin knew it was not from the cold. He only hoped she would be spared the humiliation of the crowd's bloodlust.

Thomas St. Clair stepped onto the platform; his blond hair matching that of the snow. His usual vibrant blue eyes looked dull now as if all their life had sucked from them.

Struggling not to cry as her husband forced her to her knees, Emilia swallowed back her tears. Despite the roaring crowd, Benjamin kept his sole gaze on her, preparing for the inevitable.

"Kill the adulteress!" the crowd yelled.

Thomas pulled out his sword, aiming it behind his wife's neck. She looked up into the crowd, brow furrowed, jaw tight. For a moment, their eyes met and he thought he saw a flash of recognition in hers.

Impossible.

She would not recognize him, not without that mask.

Her eyes left him, moving to where her family was. He followed her stare, seeing she was not fixated on her family but on one of the knights beside them.

He had curls the color of chestnuts that came to his neck, framing his handsome face perfectly. His equally brown eyes conveyed deep regret and anguish.

The wind had picked up, blowing the flurries into the crowd's faces and making it difficult to see. But Benjamin kept his own eyes trained on Emilia. Even when the knight finally swung that fatal blow, he did not look away.

But when the sound of metal cutting flesh rang out, Benjamin could not help but flinch. A second later, he heard the body tumble onto the wood.

The crowd cheered. Blood dripped off the platform and onto the white snow, staining it red.

Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed.