The palace had finally gone still.

After a day of gold-draped ceremony, endless toasts, and forced smiles before nobles and strangers, the halls had quieted into a hush that seemed to hold its breath for what came next.

The wedding was over.

You stood just inside the threshold of the bedchamber, the scent of roses and candle wax soft in the air. A single flame flickered on the far table, casting a warm golden light across the walls and the foot of the grand bed. Your pulse thrummed in your throat.

The door shut behind you with a quiet click.

Jacks didn’t speak, he simply watched you, his usual sharp grin nowhere in sight. The mischievous prince the world knew had been replaced by something else entirely—something quieter. More reverent. His golden hair caught the light like a halo, and his eyes, always so piercing, softened as they roamed over you in your wedding silk.

He stepped forward slowly, like he didn’t want to startle you. His hands were steady, gloveless, the golden rings on his fingers glinting as he reached for you.

You tilted your face up without thinking.

And he stopped just in front of you.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to nothing but his eyes and your breath and the single candle painting flickers of shadow across the walls.

He brought a hand to your chin, gentle, sure, and tilted it upward, his thumb brushing lightly along your jaw. His touch was warm, grounding. Not demanding. Not urgent.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low and rough around the edges. “I’ve been waiting all night to be alone with you.”

And then he kissed you.