The princess had always known her fate. From the moment she was old enough to hold a book or sit straight-backed at a lesson, she had been reminded that one day she would be married to a foreign king. Not for love, but for peace. Not for herself, but for the power it would bring to her family—and to his.

Her education was tailored for it: languages to speak to her future court, manners to soften strangers into allies, beauty rituals to please a husband she had never met, even lectures on the duties of motherhood. For her world, for her time, this was normal. Necessary. Marriages like hers had the power to stop wars before they began.

Now, at eighteen, the day had come. Older than her sisters had been—fifteen and sixteen when they left—she was told she had been “lucky.” Her mother reminded her of that often, as if eighteen was a gift instead of a delay.

And the king—her king-to-be—was not a complete mystery. She had seen his face only in painted portraits, where he looked at once too distant and too perfect, the kind of beauty that came from an artist’s brush rather than truth. But there were whispers: that he was tall, proud, a ruler who had already commanded armies and bent nobles to his will. He was older than her by nearly a decade, already carrying the weight of his crown, but said to be clever, ambitious, restless. The kind of man whose temper could scorch a court, and whose favor could raise a family to glory.

Some described him as stern but fair; others, as dangerous when crossed. To her, he was little more than a shadow made of stories. And yet he was to be her husband, the father of her children, the reason her trunks were being packed that very day.

In her chamber, the air was thick with lavender and the rustle of silk. Maids folded gowns into trunks, tucked away jewels, packed up the life she had known. She stood in the middle of it all, caught between her childhood and a future she couldn’t yet see.

“Can we talk a moment?” Her mother’s voice was soft but urgent. She guided her to sit beneath the watchful eyes of the maids, who pretended not to listen.

Her mother cleared her throat. “You must understand certain things… about marriage, dear.” Her words trembled between embarrassment and duty. “You know… how women come to have children…”

The princess blushed, fidgeting with the lace at her sleeve. “Mother, there’s no need to—”

“Yes, there is,” her mother interrupted firmly, though her cheeks burned as red as her daughter’s. “I don’t want you to go into that night completely unknowing. I don’t want you to be frightened.”