The War Bride

2 | The Marriage Truce

"Matriarch." She stepped forward obediently. Bowing. However, she held her bandaged hand against her chest tightly—the same one that got trampled on earlier.

"I'm fine," she lied, trying not to sound accusing. The matriarch was responsible for her injuries. "The wounds do not hurt."

"That's a relief to hear," the matriarch sighed. "Our clan cannot survive without you, Luwen. You're our only hope now."

Luwen's mouth went dry. "Me?"

"Yes, you." Her smile widened slyly. "We've just received a reply from the Dai clan—they've accepted our marriage truce and will retreat once we hand over the bride to them."

Luwen felt sick suddenly, and she wanted to throw up. She was at risk of being handed over to the enemies, and it would be even more dangerous than it was on the battlefield.

But she knew not to anger the matriarch. For years, she had seen her become agitated, violent and play evil tricks behind people's backs when she didn't get her way.

And now Luwen's fate lay in her hands.

"Matriarch, I can't be the one to carry out this important mission," she said. "I might risk getting your plan exposed quickly. Perhaps someone else is more suitable for this role."

The matriarch shook her head while maintaining her cunning smile. "No, there is no other suitable candidate except you. I've seen you grow up, Luwen. You're quick-witted. While many wear their thoughts and fear on their faces, it has always been a challenge to read your expression," she admitted. "Therefore, you're perfect for taking my daughter's place. The enemies can never read your expressions."

Luwen was stunned. "But I—"

"Be good, child." The matriarch leaned forward in her seat and shared her scheming plan. "You shall get married to their new heir and seduce him. Once he lets his guard down, kill him."

"My lady," Luwen reasoned once again. She knew she was pushing her luck by opposing, but she hated the idea of becoming an enemy's bride. Once she stepped onto their ground, there would be no leaving.

"I'm nothing like the princess," she insisted. "Unlike me, she was petite, beautiful, and elegant. All I only know is to fight. I don't know how to seduce a man."

The matriarch's eyes frosted over in anger, clearly running out of patience. "It's best if you drop your weapon and act like an aristocratic woman by following my orders. That's how you can keep yourself alive."

"And don't you forget," she said, "I saved your life when you were a child. Without me, you wouldn't be standing here alive today."

There it was—the appearance of her villainous soul.

It was true she saved Luwen's life, but her feigned kindness could never hide away her foxy demeanor.

Luwen was tongue-tied. She lowered her head in reluctance while the matriarch stood up and reached for a pot from the table. She began scooping whatever she had been brewing for a while now.

Turning around, she offered Luwen a bowl. In it, bluish-silver liquid swirled. "Here, drink this."

"What is that?"

Her red lips curved into a smirk. "Did you not say earlier about being unable to impersonate my daughter? There is a way for you to act perfectly as her. We shall place your soul in her body. Once you've fulfilled your mission, your soul shall return to your actual body."

Soul transfer? 

Luwen began to feel fear weaving through her veins and chilling her blood. "What happens if I fail the mission?"