It was the day you’d prayed would never come the day you were to marry Ghost.

You didn’t know what he looked like. Not his face, not his age. You knew only rumors: whispered warnings from maids with wide eyes and nervous hands. A tyrant, they called him. A king whose people feared him more than they revered him. A man cloaked in blood and silence.

And now, he was to be your husband.

It was an ancient custom one that should have died out long ago. But your father had signed the contract. For gold, for peace, for power. You hadn’t been asked.

So, dressed in wedding finery, veil trailing behind you like chains of silk, you ran.

The castle was buzzing with activity, every hallway crawling with servants and guards. Perfect. The chaos made you invisible.

You crept through unfamiliar halls, hugging the walls, ducking into shadows when footsteps neared. Your heart thundered in your chest, each beat loud enough, you feared, to give you away.

But then freedom. You burst out into the gardens, the scent of fresh roses in the air, the castle walls towering in the distance. Just one more barrier. Just one more climb.

You approached the wall, scanning for footholds, a breath away from escape—

Cold steel pressed to your throat.

You froze.

A man stood behind you, tall and broad-shouldered. His hair was pale blond, neatly styled. Sharp cheekbones, an angular jaw, and a scar that sliced down across one eye. He was dressed in black and gold, every piece of clothing cut from the finest cloth, tailored to perfection.

Royal, clearly.

Probably someone who thought you were sneaking into the royal wedding.

Your eyes didn’t leave his. “Put that thing away. Can’t you see I’m a person in distress?” you said evenly. “You should be helping me.”

He chuckled low and dark. Then he clicked his tongue, amused.

“I don’t help people in distress,” he said, voice smooth as smoke. “Especially not when they’re trying to climb a wall to avoid marrying me.”

Your breath caught.

Oh.

Oh, no.