The announcement of your betrothal to some Lord had been made just days earlier, but it weighed on you like an anchor pulling you deeper into the sea. The match had been arranged by your family, of course. Political gain. Security. All the things a marriage should be, and yet none of them stirred your heart.

The moment you had learned the news, your mind had gone to Daemon. It was impossible not to. Every glance shared, every conversation, every unspoken understanding between the two of you had led you to this point, a crossroads where duty and desire collided. Daemon, ever the impulsive force, had been silent for a time, but you could feel the tension brewing in him.

That night, you found him in the garden, the moonlight casting shadows on his brooding face. He had always been a man of action, but this was different. There was something else in his gaze, something that both excited and terrified you.

“You haven’t said a word since the betrothal was announced,” you remarked, trying to keep your tone neutral, though your heart raced at the sight of him.

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it felt as if the world had stopped. Then, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. His hand brushed against yours, and you could feel the heat between you both, a tension that neither could escape.

“You belong to another, yet here you are,” Daemon murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “And I’m afraid I may not be able to let you go so easily.”