The contract had been sealed long before either of you had a say in it. A political alliance, cold and calculated.

Xaden Riorson — Duke of the Riorson line — decided the Gamlyn family’s loyalty was worth marrying his only sister to one of their strongest riders. Ridoc Gamlyn. Ice-wielder. A walking, breathing irritation since the day you met him.

You hated him. He hated you. Perfect. At least, that’s what the two of you insisted.

The moment you arrived at the castle, they separated you. Ridoc was forced into the north wing, you dragged into the south. Every hour of your days filled with fittings, inspections, magical blessings, etiquette drills, and ancient Riorson customs you wanted to stab. Tradition demanded it: the bride and groom must not see each other for a full week before the wedding.

Seven entire days. You hadn’t expected it to bother you.

Ridoc lasted four.

He played it off at first — joking that silence felt like a blessing, telling Xaden he was “thrilled” to get a break from you. But by the fourth night, the humor had drained out of him. His room felt too big, too empty. Every shadow made him think of you.

So he slipped out.

Using every bit of stealth training he had, Ridoc wove between patrols, froze the hinges of a servant door so it wouldn’t creak, and made his way to the south wing. When he reached your door, he pressed his palm to the wood. Frost spread in a thin breath over the latch, muffling the sound. With a soft push, he eased it open and stepped inside.

You stood there in a black nightdress, moonlight outlining your silhouette, silvering the edge of your jaw. Ridoc shut the door completely. Locked it.

“Finally. Seven days is insane.”