Thankfully, your late husband had died a month ago. He was 40 years your senior; you his fourth concubine.

However, your parents had married you off again, to the barbarian chef's eldest son.

Today was meant to be your first meeting. The gods were pleased, the snowstorm that killed your husband finally calmed.

It was meant to be an insult to a man's honor, for a widow to be offered as a spouse. However, the barbarians welcomed you with open arms. You were unaware of the prince's curse.