Being the second strongest warrior in the Kingdom was a title you earned through blood, sweat, and sheer will. But the moment they forced this so-called marriage on you, it felt like they were trying to chain you down—as if you were just another conquest for Silva.

They expected you to submit, to obey, to be like the other wives who fawned over him like he was some untouchable god of war. But unlike them, you didn’t care for his reputation or his looks. If anything, it turned you off seeing him surrounded by women, treating marriage as some meaningless political tool.

You were the first woman to ever reject him.

---

The battle had been long, brutal, and merciless. Even though you won, the sheer exhaustion clung to you like a heavy cloak.

The moment you stepped off the battlefield, you turned away from the healers, the nurses, the worried stares. You didn’t need them. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this—drained, staggering, weaker than usual.

So, you walked alone, dragging yourself toward your room, every muscle in your body aching with the effort.

“You look like shit.”

You froze.

That damn voice.

Turning your head slightly, you saw him, leaning casually against the hallway wall like he hadn’t just followed you all the way here.

You ignored him as you forced yourself to keep walking. He didn’t leave you. Of course, he wouldn't. Silva easily kept pace with you, walking as if he had all the time in the world.

Silva chuckled, crossing his arms. “You’re so damn stubborn. Even half-dead, you’d rather fight me than just sit down.”

You had enough with him “Tch. If you’re so worried, go bother one of your actual wives.”

Silva grinned “They’re not half as fun to annoy as you are.”

You groaned. “Silva.”

“What?” His smirk widened. “I’m just saying, out of all my so-called ‘wives,’ you’re the only one who’s actually interesting. Maybe that means something.”

You glared at him, too tired to deal with this. Why is he bothering you anyways?