My Father-in-Law Forced Me to Marry His Daughter in a Locked Barrel

A Crimson Trap

Nicholas fell to his knees, his hands shaking as he stared at the gruesome sight. He forced himself to look closer, reading the frantic words scrawled on the parchment pinned inside the barrel. "Nicholas, my father did not send me to be your bride. He sent me to be a sacrifice. The purple mantle he wears is stained with your father's blood, and tonight, his men will burn this estate to ashes with both of us inside. Run."

The horrific realization washed over Nicholas. The peace treaty was a sham, a clever trap to wipe out the Southern royal bloodline once and for all. He looked at Beatrice, whose eyes were filled with desperate tears.

"I am not leaving you," Nicholas vowed. He drew a small, silver dagger from his boot. With agonizing precision, he began to slice through the golden threads binding Beatrice's lips. She whimpered but remained perfectly still, trusting him completely.

As the final thread fell away, Beatrice gasped for air, her voice a cracked whisper.

"We have to go," she cried. "My father's guards have already surrounded the estate. They are locking the outer gates."

Before they could move, the sharp, pungent scent of burning pitch drifted under the heavy oak door. Wisps of black smoke began to curl into the room. Nicholas ran to the door and grabbed the iron handle, but it wouldn't budge. They had been bolted in from the outside.

Suddenly, the heavy wood of the door shuddered under a massive blow. An axe sliced through the center panel. Nicholas drew his sword, bracing for a fight against King Richard's guards. But as the door splintered open, the man who stepped through the smoke was not a northern soldier. It was Lord Thomas, Nicholas's most trusted advisor, holding a burning torch with a sneer on his face.

"Forgive me, Prince Nicholas," Thomas sneered. "But King Richard pays far better than a dying kingdom."