Life of a Spare
Author’s Notes
This story was one of my favs to write so far! We know so little of Edmund, and he is certainly unexplored, but it was fun experimenting with him!! Also, warning, this contains SPOILERS FROM THE MAIN SERIES. If you haven’t read the last couple of chapters, YOU WILL BE SPOILED. You’ve been warned.
English is not my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes
I’m making more of these, of characters like Holloway or Briar. Stay tuned for more! If you haven’t read the others, click here or go through my tag the cursed heiress for more content!
Summary: We hear Edmund’s version of the events.
Word Count: 5.3k
Category: Fluff, angst
Pairing: Edmund Marlcaster x Briar Daly
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Discussion of death and grief, spoilers from The Cursed Heiress
Book: Desire and Decorum
June, 1796
Edmund Marlcaster was having his outfit fitted, for today he would be attending his mother’s second wedding. He was but six years-old.
He had never been a truly chatty boy, but seeing this stranger of raven dark hair and kind blue eyes being so… nice and going around like he was his new father irked him. Who the hell did he think he was? He had refused to talk or acknowledge him, and he didn’t even care if he hurt his feelings. What about his feelings?
The door was opened, and his lady mother looked pretty, at least in the boy’s mind: she wore a pale grey satin dress, with a beautiful headdress and a veil, and she knelt before him, kissing his forehead “Now, my boy, I know that you do not like crowds, but you have to be brave for Mama. Can you do that?”
“I—I think so.”
Henrietta sighed “I know how you must be feeling, but your father wanted this.”
He murmured “Why can’t it be just you and me? I can protect you… We don’t need that posh idiot.”
Something in Henrietta’s poised gaze softened “Oh, Neddy, how innocent are you. How I wish you remained that way, but alas…” She kissed his little hand and stroked his cheek “You’ve yet to understand, but women need a man to survive, and I’m afraid that you are too little for this.”
“I’m not!” He protested “I’m tall and strong! I can protect you, Mama!”
Henrietta smiled and kissed his cheek “My sweet boy. When you grow up, you will protect me. For now, I’m afraid we need Vincent. You needn’t treat him like a father, just be nice to him. Please? Do it for your Mama?”
He slumped his shoulders and nodded, hugging her. Henrietta smiled “Good. Now, let me see the beautiful smile the handsomest ringbearer will have!”
May, 1806
“Come along, Harry, or else you’ll miss it!” Edmund cried.
An eight-year-old Harry quickly ran, his chestnut brown curls reminding him of the chocolate his stepfather liked to drink. They both ducked under the fence and observed a seventeen-year-old Ernest Sinclaire give a flower and an apple to a rather pretty girl: long, untamed blonde curls, brown eyes and an easy smile. He looked rather flushed, and started to approach her. Edmund then gave the signal to Harry, who quietly spooked one of the cows, who interrupted the lovers, who were quick to say to the other goodbye.
Harry giggled “And that’s for stealing our apples!”
“Shh! Careful, he has a sharp hearing.”
After he left, they both leaped from the fence and laid on the ground, high-fiving “The border’s now ours!”
Edmund smiled and Harry sighed “Do you think I will ever be engaged to such a pretty girl like you have?”
Edmund frowned “Theresa, you mean? I mean, she is kind of pretty.”
“She’s gorgeous!”
Edmund laughed “Steal her from me then. I won’t complain.”
“Is she terrible?”
“No, she just… talks too much. It’s a bit overwhelming. Especially with gossip. I don’t have the heart to tell her that I am no interested in where does the eldest Holloway sister buy her rogue...”
Harry frowned “What’s a rogue?”
“A thing women buy to make their cheeks and lips look pinker… I think. I wasn’t truly listening.”
“That’s a bit mean from you. A gentleman never ignores a lady, Ed.”
“Well, it’s not ignoring… I kind of go to my own world.”
Harry traced a hand over the sky “If I ever get betrothed, I will never ignore my future bride! I will always converse with her. We will be the best of friends!”
Edmund chuckled “Convince Mum to marry you to your best friend then.”
December, 1812
The Suttons had come over for Christmastime to celebrate with the Foredales, and Harry had been behaving oddly and like he had something on his mind. Something important and life-changing. Mr. Sinclaire had been his usual gruff self, only talking fully to the earl and avoiding the gossiping Theresa, whom Edmund had begged not to gossip about him on these holidays. It had certainly failed, as usual. She didn’t seem to hear him or make sensible choices.
He went up to his father’s study and saw Harry, sitting by the fire and deep in thought. Edmund cleared his throat and sat beside him “What’s on your mind, brother?”
“I think I’m in love.” He declared.
“Oh! That’s nice.”
“With your fiancé.”
He nearly choked on his own breath “What?! Theresa? Are you—are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He took a deep breath, taking all in as they took their father’s whiskey. He gave it a rather generous gulp and nodded, taking it all in again “So… Theresa.”
“I can’t get her off my mind, brother! She’s everywhere! I always want to talk to her, see her, be near her, listen to her, and I—I dream of her as well. It’s killing me. Because I don’t want to dishonour her or you, and I don’t have the heart to tell Father.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t love her.”
Now it was Harry’s time to be surprised “Whyever not? She’s smart, she likes to read and has the most beautiful laugh! And her smile, the way she excitedly moves her hands—,”
“Whoa, you’re truly in love, brother!”
He sighed “I do not know what to do, brother. I made my promise to Annie…” Then, he stayed completely silent. He had that scheming face on him, and Edmund wondered what the hell he was plotting. He turned to look at his brother “Are you sure you won’t ever fall for her?”
He frowned “Yes. Brother, what are you plotting?”
“As you know, the two of you are quite older than I. And Annie needs someone who can protect her from much older men.”
“Yes…”
“So, I suggest that you remain engaged to her and I to Annie until I am of age! I will propose immediately to Tess, and you can be free to marry whoever you want!”
Edmund pondered the idea “I mean… it’s not so bad!”
“I have some ground rules though.”
“Sure.”
He pointed at his brother “No kissing her or touching her for long. No one else can know of this. And… you must never set a date. Always postpone it. And whatever tells you about herself in romance regards, you must tell me at once. No other man must become close to her. And she can’t suspect.”
Edmund nodded “Alright. And you must control yourself, Harry! You can get carried over your romanticism…”
Harry flushed and nodded “Alright. We have a deal then.”
Autumn, 1815
Edmund had stormed off the ‘funeral’, and was bidding goodbye to Harry “When will you return?”
Harry sighed “A year and a half should be enough. Do you remember your promise?”
“I will never touch Theresa for too long or set a date, and I will never tell a soul.”
He nodded “Good. When I’m settled, I will send her anonymous poems. Tell her it’s you if she ever tells you or suspects it, alright?”
He nodded “I will.” He hugged his brother “Come home safe, soldier.”
“And you keep my future countess safe, brother-in-arms.”
“I will. You know I will. You have my word.”
They hugged once again before he drifted off into the deep forests, to perhaps return.
Edmund had noticed that Theresa was aware of Harry’s popularity and beauty, but he never complained. He tried his best to be kind to her, but he had been irritable. Now, he had big shoes to step in, and wanted to make Harry proud. He did. Telling his father couldn’t be. It ached him to see him grieve and see how his mother had become a monster, always trying to ‘man him up’ and make of him what Harry could be. If he told her, he’d lose her forever. And he needed her right now. The sweet mother who called him ‘Sweet Neddy’ and always told him the sweetest of things. How he wished he had remained clueless and innocent. Perhaps she’d still love him, like she had loved Harry.
March, 1816
He had been a brilliant heir, being an outstanding student, fighter, socialite and a gentleman that could rival Mr. Sinclaire’s reputation. He had been perfect in every way, and he felt like the waste, the breadcrumbs everyone tended to overlook. He did everything so well, Edmund could return to his shadow and not look back, but he was gone, and he had a duty now to Edgewater. He knew what the Dowager thought. That he was no Foredale and would never be, that his father’s seat belonged to her bloodline, not Henrietta.
And when he heard of Joanna’s existence, his initial reaction was to hate her. It felt like a cheap replacement of Harry, and the fact that she was arrogant and acted like she was better than everybody didn’t help. Sure, the girl had suffered, but so had he! More than anyone in that room. And it didn’t help that Joanna’s eyes were his father’s. Harry’s eyes. Her hair could be as red as the sun, but every time he looked into her eyes, he saw Harry, away, in the corners of France, risking his life for his king and country while this woman took his place like he hadn’t been dead for months. Technically, his body wasn’t even cold enough to name a new heir.
And when, in that garden party, his father named her heir, he was devastated. He had already buried Harry in his mind, now his focus on Joanna and her crass and grumpy behaviour. He suspected she didn’t know of it, and came to apologize, but looking at her just hurt, because he could see Harry in her. It hurt him that they were similar and shared blood. He was jealous of her, even. He had never minded much being Harry’s shadow, but Joanna’s? It was just too much. And that is what he told his mother in a sincerity attack “I just… it feels wrong. Harry’s body is yet to be cold, and now we have a new heir, and it isn’t me like he promised!”
Henrietta then looked at him fiercely “Then fight for it. Do you want that bastard to take your brother’s place?”
“No!”
“Then, you will ensure in your brother’s name that she never sits on that chair.”
He scoffed “How?”
Henrietta smirked “By showing to everybody that is just that. An uncultured bastard with no knowledge or regard for our family name. Do it for your brother.”
“…I will have that woman off my house, so help me God.”
Edmund Marlcaster never thought he’d fall in love, much less with Joanna’s best friend and lady’s maid. But she had been so attentive, kind, witty, and her eyes… despite her brown skin, she had two beautiful pale blue eyes, and my, was she enthralling. He knew that this wasn’t the plan, but the way she talked about Joanna reminded him of he and Harry. They were like sisters, and if he ruined Joanna, he’d ruin her as well. And she wasn’t deserving of that. Perhaps he could find her a job somewhere else?
No. No. She’d follow Joanna into death if it was required, like he would’ve followed Harry into danger if he had asked. It was a dangerous gamble, that he knew, but my, his knees went weak every time she smiled and called him “Edmund”. If Joanna noticed this bond between them, she seemed to mind very little, though sometimes she’d drop hints that he should make up his mind about who his heart was with.
And what was worse, he had started to grow fond of Joanna too. She was nothing like his mother described. She was intelligent, sensible, someone who inspired leadership and light up every room when she came in and someone with the strength of a thousand fires, matching her red, long hair. She was Foredale, through and through. And he was no match for him or his mother. He was fighting a battle that had already cleared out a winner before it began.
She was hiding something. And some behaviours about her were odd. He was no fool. It was like she knew something he didn’t, saw things he didn’t. And he started seeing it when she left Mr. Sinclaire’s dinner party with a face that puzzled him, and not because she had been out and alone with him. A secret dangerous enough to make her leave abruptly of her own debut. She had a face that very few would recognize: the face of betrayal. Of being betrayed to be exact.
And it became clear who the traitor was: her mentor, who was kicked out, blatantly ignoring his supposed loyalty for years. He wondered what his deed had been. A terrible one, for many agreed that Joanna’s loyalty on those who served her was rarely shaken. He had asked Theresa to make some rounds, and she only came back with speculation: that he had taken something from her. Something she had loved dearly. And Joanna loved very few things so dearly “Could’ve been his fiancé? He did die in mysterious circumstances…”
Briar bit her lip. He knew she knew something “It is not my story to tell, but… you’re onto something. There was always something irksome about Elias. I always warned Joanna not to trust him too much. I was in the right, which is much worse than being wrong when it comes to being so vulnerable before someone.”
“I have to say… nobody deserves to be betrayed so by someone who you grew up with and trusted.”
Briar smiled sadly “Joanna would be thankful for your compassion. I know she would.”
He nodded curtly and soon Joanna claimed Briar, who had to go. Joanna was yet to treat Briar like an actual maid. She was her closest confidante, and knew many secrets of her heart. And this was proven when she asked about that boy back at Grovershire. The look on ‘Joanna’s face proved that this wasn’t really the Joanna they knew, despite them being identical. Then, the races became a blur. A set of explosions, screams and many people rushing out. Edmund waited for Briar, uncapable of leaving without knowing whether she was safe or not. And there she was. He smiled at her tightly, not hearing Theresa in the commotion. When he saw Mr. Sinclaire coming out with a wounded Joanna in a charred armour, he knew that she definitely hid something terrible from the rest. Something lethal, capable of killing anything.
When she woke up, she pretended that nothing had happened and she was just fine. She even treated them like madmen for insinuating such a thing. Like they hadn’t seen her rush from up and her scars were gone. She should’ve been bedridden, but here she was, in the table in his card games, mocking the viscount, chatting with Miss Parsons and her aunt and sassing Miss Holloway. He was ashamed that he had to do such a dirty thing to Theresa. He had made an oath to Harry, and felt like wanting to gouge out his eyes. He gave him his word that he wouldn’t hurt Theresa. Joanna had been of course, judgemental, and within her own right. This also affected Briar. But he didn’t have the heart to disobey his mother, despite finding himself disagreeing with her every day more frequently.
Then, the fateful letter came, and Edmund was overwhelmed. He found himself in the room, a bottle of port half-emptied and his mind reeling: Harry, Theresa, Joanna’s face being showered with fear for the first time since they met, Briar’s heartbreak upon seeing him flirting with Miss Holloway and the disapproval of his grandmother. He knew he should’ve rejected the offer and stay in Edgewater, but now the memory felt numb. He gave the port another generous gulp and barked out orders to prepare his carriage for the morning: fuck the plan, he was going to see his father, the only person in the world apart from Briar who saw him as Edmund the man and not Edmund, the pretender to be the new Earl of Edgewater. His mother’s machinations may be damned.
All the ride, he had blackened out. He didn’t hear or feel the rumble of the carriage, or Theresa’s ramblings, or the driver hurrying up the horses, he wasn’t even there. He didn’t even feel real. He felt like his body, mind, story, wasn’t his, like he was just there to observe the events unfold. It sounded silly, dancing close to heresy even, but that’s how he felt.
When he had arrived, the sun was peeking onto the hills, and Edmund ran as fast as his legs allowed him to, his heart beating fast as he told himself “By God, let me be in time so I can tell him that Harry’s alive and fine, please. I beg you, Lord, to let me be in time.” He slammed the door open “Father?!” He looked at a weeping Joanna, holding his body in her arms “Is he…?” He asked, his voice cracking.
She got up, declaring “He is gone.” Then, surprisingly, she hugged him, and he hugged her back. Together, they wept as Bishop Monroe gave him the last rites, and only separated when the sun came out, the birds’ chirping as a reminder the end of an era. Joanna offered to accompany him, but he declined: right now he wanted to be left alone, and cry in his own way. Joanna simply nodded, numb as he was.
Edmund didn’t have enough strength for anything. Yet again, he was not the owner of his actions and own will, but somebody else. He didn’t hear the commotion between his mother and Joanna, or her breaking down in the doors, having a panic attack, fainting in the act. When he heard, he felt terrible for her. She was now orphaned, and with a dead fiancé and no prospects for her hand. How terrible must’ve been for her. Or to be a woman in this world. Indeed, they did not value them as they should.
As he wrote to Harry the news, he found himself crying silently as he finished off the letter with a lifeless flourish and giving it to the bishop, who gave his word that it’d get to him before anyone else. He wondered how he’d react. Poor boy. His position, gone to a woman who didn’t even want it anymore, his father dead and his mother hurting all over again. If he could now rip out his heart and throw it to the ducks in the lake to eat, he would. This was the worst of the times to be a man with feelings like his own.
When he returned to London, he noticed that Joanna did not return. Nor Mr. Sinclaire, or Prince Hamid, or Miss Parsons or Mr. Harper. Briar just said that they were gone within the morning without a word and most certainly told nobody about it.
Many rumoured that Joanna had eloped with either the prince or Mr. Sinclaire and the others were running away from something. He found it nonsensical. And he surprised himself by saying it out loud, and Theresa agreeing with him “Joanna is many things, sure,” she declared “but she is no coward who backs out. She’s a fighter, through and through, and she has her motives not to be here. The only thing I know is that it is important and that she’s got no option.”
“Don’t be silly, girl—,”
“Watch your tone, Your Grace,” Edmund blurted out. He straightened his spine “You have no right to talk to my fiancé that way.”
The duke was shocked, and Theresa smiled at him for the first time in months. Genuinely, no fakeness or pretense within them, just two people who were indeed promised to the other. She squeezed his hand as a ‘thank you’ and he nodded to her.
Joanna came back a week later, according to Briar, but nobody knew where she was, but she was in British soil again. He heard a commotion out there, flashes of unnatural light and yells and cries of war. Some sort of unrest was going on out there, and Joanna had ensured no one gets out of there until she arrived. He and Briar had been in the house, helping out the staff now under her command. “By God,” he thought “she looks so beautiful when she barks out orders.” She knew that something was odd, and that whatever Joanna had been hiding was now out and confronting her.
Edmund was preparing himself for an outing when he heard Briar’s wailings and came out to see what happened. She turned around, her face contorted with tears and horrors “Briar!” He was in a minute beside her “What happened?”
“Joanna… she’s dead. Murdered.”
Horror washed over his face. He held her close, comforting her. Joanna, who had always seemed untouchable, invincible and someone who couldn’t be defeated was now dead by murder… If Joanna could be defeated, there was no hope for them. It was clear that dancing close to power was a gamble that included death in its cards, and Edmund had now something precious that he couldn’t afford to leave behind. Briar needed him. Tomorrow, on his way to Edgewater, he’d renounce his claim and let his cousins fight to the death for it. That night, he and Theresa split up.
And his first act was leaving behind a letter to the dowager and asking Briar to be his wife no matter what. He was ecstatic when she said yes, and both quickly rushed to Gretna Green. He was surprised to see his mother there, and trying to understand and support him. Despite his doubts, he allowed it. He had lost enough for now. And he wanted to make amends. With his mother. With himself. With life.
And my, what a wonderful way to start this new life than to make of Briar his wife in full. She was, as usual, cheeky and seductive, and he was just simply at her feet. She had looked at him intensely as she took off her nightgown, her black hair falling all the way to behind her knees, a living goddess, putting to shame Nefatari and Cleopatra. Her pale blue eyes looked at him intensely as he allowed her to take over, to make him hers, and make her his in the way. Both slowly falling into bed, no worries or pain, just him and Briar. Just a man and his wife. A man and the most breath-taking woman he had ever seen, who burned as bright as seven suns. She was angelical fire, and he, a mere firework at her side. But by God, would he fight every day to be worthy of being under her sun. Being worthy of her smile, her laugh, of being in her arms, her touch, her kiss, as sweet as any French pastry he might’ve tried. Her sweet lips rivalled every single one of them, surely. And her body, the epitome of beauty, worthy to make a new statue of Aphrodite with her as a muse. Maybe he was no sculptor, but she was the perfect muse. He could watch her for hours, just existing. Talking, laughing, smiling, calling him ‘My Eddie’, never truly getting out of their love nest. No estate, no intrigues, no pain, no grief, just him, his wife, their bodies as bare as their souls and hearts, and nobody else in the world bothering her.
Kissing her temple as she slept, quietly like a kitten after a hearty meal, he closed his eyes, drowning yet again in her intoxicating essence, not caring for what waited them outside the controversial church.
Joanna was back. No. No. He was dreaming. Surely he was dreaming? That boy swore that he watched her die in Mr. Sinclaire’s arms, and yet, she looked very much alive with none but Harry beside her in those gigantic horses. He was quick to rush towards his brother, and for once, life was good.
He watched as the women, save his mother, fussed over Joanna, who told at least most of her journey first to Russia, then France, where she encountered Harry and talked things with him, and then to the Ottoman Empire for official business. That afternoon, she, as well, renounced her claim and gave it to Harry, thus restoring order in Edgewater.
He and Joanna sat by the fire, commenting many things, among them how she and Harry fought before they sat down to talk as they did now. She looked at him and asked “Do you love her?”
“I ran away with her to Gretna Green in the middle of the night right after leaving my long-time fiancée and renouncing my claim. ‘Course I do!” He was pretty offended that she asked. Joanna laughed, lifting her hands.
“Alright, very well, you definitely do!” She conceded.
They both laughed heartily, for the first time, and toasted for a better life. And as soon as everything was in order, she was gone to wherever her mother used to live before meeting their father. In the meantime, he got the best of news.
He was writing some letters to the Suttons when Briar knocked on the door, and hugged him. He smiled, dropping the letter the moment they made contact “Hello, beautiful. You’re cheerful this morning.”
Briar smiled, glowing like never before “That is because I have great news.”
He smiled widely “Oh?”
She took his face into her palms, looking at him directly “I… am with child, my love.”
He stopped for one second. His eyes shot back to her still flat belly, then back to her eyes. He stood in silence as he took it in. Then, he started laughing, and was soon picking up Briar and twirling her around “Edmund!” She cried.
He quickly put her down, covering her with kisses as he cried out of joy “Oh, my dearest, you can’t tell how happy I am right now! Oh, my lord, my heart is going to explode!”
Briar smiled, tears in her face again “I know the feeling.”
He hugged her, both laughing and crying, standing there for a few more moments, nothing else but them and their unbridled joy. Briar excused herself by going to write to Joanna the happy news, and he was quick to run towards Harry, who smiled widely and toasted to them and the happy news: he, too, was expecting to be a father soon.
1817
Edmund watched as Joanna fussed with his baby daughter, Joanna Jr. She babbled happily in her arms, and was delighted to see that Joanna was the baby whisperer, for every baby was calm and happy in her arms. She kissed her head, playing with her and telling her what a beautiful girl she was. Baby Edward slept in his own arms, a rather small but strong baby. He was a father, and an uncle.
Outside, Briar was picking up berries with Countess Theresa, who chatted happily of the ongoing gossip of the neighbourhood. Theresa had dropped her tattletale’s mask, but still liked a little bit of gossip.
“So, dare I ask what’s between you and Mr. Sinclaire?”
Joanna bit her lip “There’s certainly something, but I’ve yet to give it a name.”
He chuckled. He definitely did not miss being in that stage where one wondered what the hell was going on between them and the person who fancied him back. Baby Edward started fussing, and he was quick to start calming him down.
He sighed as Henrietta asked him to hand over her grandson. Taking his daughter back into his arms, kissing her temple, he closed his eyes, relishing in the pure bliss he found himself in, never wanting to wake up from this beautiful reality.
My name is Edmund John Marlcaster, firstborn son of Henrietta Foredale and her first husband, who died when I was but a babe. All my life, I was but a shadow, a hidden ace that no one seemed to remember. But I never felt like that with the earl or my dear brother, Harry.
I was sixteen when I became betrothed to Miss Theresa Sutton. She had this tattletale’s mask I shamefully failed to see, but my brother Harry was never fooled. He was always smarter, more charismatic, the perfect heir to the Edgewater Estate. And I? The spare. But my, did that save my life.
I was four and twenty when my brother was called by his king to secretly spy for him in France, faking his own death and confessing that he was in love with my fiancée in the process. I gave him my word to never touch her or hurt her, and I abided by it… until Joanna Mills came into our lives.
I must confess, I was not thrilled. I was angry, for I thought that she was a cheap replacement for my dear brother, who was away in France, risking his life for king and country. I was even talked into sabotaging her, all for avenging my brother’s memory. But I was outwitted, perhaps from the very beginning.
Again and again, she proved to be smart, cunning, charming, mysterious and intriguing, taking England by storm and shaking it to its core. During that time, I met my sweet, sweet Briar, who was then her lady’s maid and best friend. She caught me by storm and shook me to my very own core, and I was glad she did. She opened my eyes like no other, and I loved her, even when I wasn’t hers to take. I tried to fight it, but one can’t escape true love.
During the mourning for both my father and Joanna, who was like a sister now, I decided to take the reins of my life by renouncing my claim, leaving Theresa and making Briar my lady wife instead, and to this day, I’ve yet to regret it. I don’t think I ever will. I shall never.
A miracle happened on a sad autumn day: Joanna and Harry had come back, and Joanna restored back balance to the estate. She came back to her own life, Mr. Sinclaire following behind. I was clueless at the time of how hopelessly in love he was with her.
During that time, by sweet Briar became pregnant with our dear child, Joanna Jr., and my, was I overcome by joy. We had four more children: Annabel, Rachel, Alexandra and Francis. Joanna had given us by now my chunk of land neighbouring Duchy Karlington back and we soon moved there, living the life my mother had fought tooth and nail for. She was happy to leave behind her bitter and jealous self, devoting herself to our children and the quiet and delightfully uneventful life, away from court.
I am Edmund, a mere spare who was saved by such position. Being always put aside saved me from death, quite literally, and brought me freedom of being myself after many years sacrificing myself to the estate. The moment Harry accepted being the new earl, I knew that everything would be alright.
I am Edmund, and being considered not an option for a position of power was the best thing that ever happened to me. I am Edmund, the shadow that people happily overlook. Not that I mind. There is joy in not having society’s attention. My family’s attention and love is all I need.
My name is Edmund, and by being spared, I dodged the bullets life throws to those who crave for power. I am Edmund, the spare of Edgewater, and this is my life. It’s not magnificent or intriguing, but it belongs to me and my fate sings my tune. I am Edmund, and I have never been gladder of being a spare.
