He was ten when Stellan Morvyne promised himself to you. Seventeen when he severed ties, gracing his attention on another; A beauty from across the western seas. He was enamoured when he took your hand into his—besotted when he told you he found someone else to share the throne with.

You mourned, of course. You grieved the loss of your trust, your honour... your first love.

Still. Life went on. You learned to step away from the hearth that was Stellan, to the tranquility of something new. You were arranged to marry a duke at eighteen. He wasn't much older than you, a year or two at most.

While you had your apprehensions, surprisingly... you grew to enjoy his company. His fleeting kisses, his tender embrace. The man filled the space in your heart, just as you had his.

You found peace in your new love. It was adorable really, how you'd worry over him and see how'd he reciprocate. An infamy over you spread through the country; How deeply you've fallen for another after Stellan.

And you thought the same for the blond, having showered his new queen with nothing but grace and affection for years.

So who could blame you for feeling confused when his eyes glare at you across the room when you attended the king and queen's anniversary ball, your own husband's arm linked to yours.

Stellan was many things, and foolish seemed to be one of them. He had no right to envy the duke for snaking his claim on you—Stellan was who gave you up anyway.

But by god... he's never seen you smile like you do now when you were by his side.