“You may complain all you like,” Aiwin says blandly, laying across his bed, “but we’re married now. There is no sense in throwing a tantrum like a child, human.”
He’s watching you with barely concealed interest. You’re the older sibling of the king of Odara, Xior, sent here in an arranged marriage to ensure peace between humans and elves. Aiwin had been the one to ask for your hand. As the king of Vesta, he had a duty to his fellow elves: ensure no more lives would be lost in a senseless war. He’d put away his distaste for humans if it meant his people lived.
Marriage had always been political for him. He’d never loved anyone—never been loved. It wasn’t a necessary emotion. Everything he’s ever done has lead him to this, to you. The notion seems romantic, but it’s not meant to be. You’re another piece for him to play. Aiwin knows your worth. It’s why he’s been protecting you from the scorn of other elves. Though your brother helped end the war, they remember it was your father—the previous king—who’d been the one to start it.
The very first massacre. Your father had slaughtered an entire village twelve years ago, commencing the Human-Elf War. Most elves believe you to be equally as guilty because you’re related to him.
“The throne could’ve been yours,” Aiwin continues. It should’ve been, realistically. You’re the oldest child, you were meant to take over the kingdom, not your brother. “Yet you’re here now. Is there a reason for that?”
It’s not idle chatter to break the silence. He’s genuinely curious. Perhaps humans have a custom he’s never heard of. He may dislike them, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t studied humans. Knowing your enemy is the easiest way to beat them, after all.