While the tension between them simmered quietly inside the castle, another kind of tension began rising beyond its walls.
Across the northern provinces, people had begun speaking Newton's name. At first it was simple admiration. Stories about the bastard who fought like a storm. A fifteen year old who stabilized the Northern kingdom in his father's absence.
Then came requests. When conflicts erupted between rival clans, certain lords began asking for only one man.
Send Newton Ice.
Edmond listened carefully the first time such a request reached him. Then he allowed it.
Newton rode far north. And the problem disappeared. He disciplined whoever is at fault and delivered justice without compromise. He conquered rebels and take them home to his father to judge.
Another province requested him months later. Again he went. Again the trouble ended. Soon the stories spread.
Villages spoke about the young warrior who brought peace wherever he rode. Soldiers sang his name around campfires. And something else began forming quietly around him.
A group of young men. Warriors he trained personally. Men who admired him. Men who listened to him. Men who followed him.
One evening Lord Marmord sat across from Lady Bianca in the castle's private hall. Wine rested untouched between them.
"The bastard is gradually crystallizing his power," Marmord said calmly.
Bianca chuckled softly. "You worry too much. He is a bastard." Her voice carried effortless confidence. "No matter how much power he gathers, he can never ascend the Ice Throne."
She lifted her cup. "It is no place for illegitimate children."
Lord Marmord smiled slowly. A thin smile. "He was a bastard," he said. "Yet your husband left the North in his care."
Bianca's smile faded slightly.
"He was a bastard, yet he wore the royal ring."
Her fingers tightened around the wine cup.
Marmord leaned forward slightly. "He might as well give him the throne." His voice softened. "If you are not smart enough."
Silence fell over the chamber. Bianca's fist slowly clenched. She knew what the lord had just told her was true.
Beyond the castle walls, people were beginning to forget the word bastard. They were remembering something else.
Newton.
And if that memory grew stronger. If it continued spreading through the North.
Then one day, when the time for succession came, the people might decide the throne belonged to someone else.
From that day on, Bianca's hatred towards Newton increased.
Night settled slowly over Snowland. The castle windows glowed with torchlight while the cold wind pressed softly against the stone walls. Snow drifted across the courtyard in slow white spirals.
Inside the lord's chamber, Lady Bianca moved quietly. Her reflection stared back at her from the tall bronze mirror beside the bed.
She adjusted the thin straps of the nightie resting on her shoulders. The silk fabric flowed softly over her skin, pale and delicate beneath the warm candlelight. The garment revealed more than it concealed, clinging lightly to her waist and hips.
Bianca studied her reflection for a long moment. Her face remained calm. Perfectly calm.
If anyone had looked into her eyes closely, they might have noticed something else beneath that calm surface.
Something calculating. She turned away from the mirror and walked toward the bed.
Outside the chamber doors, servants moved quietly through the halls. Somewhere in the castle a distant door shut. Footsteps faded down the corridor.
Bianca slipped beneath the covers and waited.
Time passed slowly. The candles burned lower. Finally, footsteps approached.
The door opened, and Edmond entered the room.
His shoulders carried the exhaustion of a long day. Snow clung faintly to the fur collar of his cloak. He removed it and set it aside before turning toward the bed.
Bianca greeted him with a soft smile. "Long day?" she asked gently.
Edmond exhaled. "The usual."
He approached the bed. Bianca reached for him first. Her hands moved along his shoulders, pulling him closer. Her lips brushed against his cheek, then his neck. Edmond responded instinctively, wrapping an arm around her waist as she pulled him down beside her.
The warmth between them grew quickly..Touches turned into kisses. Kisses deepened into something more urgent.
For a while the tension of the day disappeared into the quiet rhythm of their bodies moving together.
The candles flickered against the stone walls. Outside, snow continued falling silently. When it was over, Edmond lay beside her, catching his breath.
Bianca rested quietly against his chest. For a few moments neither of them spoke.
Then something changed. Bianca slowly moved away from him. The warmth in her expression vanished.
A cold distance replaced it.
Edmond noticed immediately. "Is there something bothering you?" he asked.
Bianca rose from the bed and stood near the window. Her back faced him. Snowlight reflected faintly against the glass.
"Each time I see your bastard," she said quietly, "I remember the pain you caused me."
Edmond's eyebrows furrowed. He pushed himself upright. "When you broke your marital oath to me."
The words hung heavily in the air.
Edmond rubbed a hand across his face. "But I have apologized to you countless times already."
Bianca nodded slowly. "And I have forgiven you."
Edmond reached out and held her face gently when she turned back toward him. "Then what is the issue?"
For a moment Bianca said nothing. Then she turned away again, facing the wall. "I want him out of my sight."
Edmond's hand slowly dropped.
"Send him away to the monastery."
The words struck him like a hammer. Edmond felt his heart slam hard against his ribs. His hands trembled slightly. Even if I must send him away, his voice came out strained.
"I will never send him to the monastery."
Bianca turned sharply to face him. "Edmond, you know that is the fate of bastards born into q ruling home."
Her tone carried no softness now. "They always join the divine army."
Edmond shook his head firmly. "Bastards have the right to live. He will only go if he decides to go."
His voice grew stronger. "Taking the green robe means he will father no children."
He stood from the bed. "Or take any wife." His jaw tightened. "And that is a lot to forcefully take from a man."
Bianca watched him carefully. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She rose slowly from the bed. The silk nightie shifted softly around her legs as she stepped closer. "If you love me," she said quietly. "And consider me your wife…" Her gaze locked onto his. "You will do the simple thing I have requested."
Edmond remained silent.
Bianca reached for her robe and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then she walked toward the door.
Without looking back, she opened it and stepped into the corridor.
The door closed behind her.
Edmond stood alone in the room. He slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the bed.
His hands rested against his knees. "If only she knows the truth," he murmured to himself.
The candles flickered quietly beside him. Bianca did not return to the chamber that night.
Or the next. Or the night after that. She moved into another room within the castle and remained there.
When Edmond attempted to speak with her, she walked away.
At dinner she sat silently beside her children but never looked toward her husband.
Weeks passed.
The silence between them stretched wider. Servants began whispering quietly in the halls.
Something had changed inside the Woodland household.
Yet Edmond refused to bend. Each time Bianca raised the matter again, his answer remained the same.
Months passed. Winter melted into spring. Then spring faded into the early breath of summer.
Six months of silence. Six months of cold distance between husband and wife.
Still Edmond did not yield. Eventually Bianca stopped asking.
One evening she sat alone in her chamber, staring out across the darkening courtyard. Torches burned along the castle walls.
In the training yard below, Newton sparred with a group of young soldiers. Steel flashed beneath the fading sunlight.
The men moved carefully around him. Respectfully. Almost cautiously.
Bianca watched the scene in silence. The bastard moved like a storm among them. Confident, feared, and admired.
Her fingers slowly tightened around the arm of her chair. "If he won't send him away," she whispered softly.
The words came slowly, cold, and measured. "Then I have no choice." Her eyes remained fixed on the yard below.
The soldiers gathered around Newton, laughing as the training ended. But Bianca did not smile. Her voice dropped into a quiet whisper.
"I will silence the boy forever."