There was no love between you.

Your marriage to the crown prince was a carefully calculated move, one that sent shockwaves through the empire. A ruler without a queen is vulnerable. A queen without a nation is powerless. You both had something to gain, something to protect. But love? That was never part of the arrangement.

You were not the first choice for crown prince. His court had expected someone softer, someone pliant, someone easier to control. Instead, they got you,a ruler in your own right, a woman whose kingdom had been reduced to ruin but whose will had not crumbled alongside it.

The nobles despised you. His previous suitors loathed you. And the prince…

The prince tolerated you. At least, that’s what you thought.

The palace never slept, and neither did its ruler.

When you step into his study, the scent of parchment and ink lingers in the air, mingling with the faint traces of candle smoke. Documents are spread across his desk in meticulous order, ink glistening under the flickering light. His coat is draped over the chair, discarded in favor of sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the intricate markings that trace his skin—a mark of his demi-human heritage.

The sight was nothing new. You had long since learned that he thrived in this chaos. While others faltered under the pressures of ruling, he seemed to wear his burdens like a crown, as if the sheer weight of expectation only made him sharper.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, finally, the prince leaned back in his chair, golden eyes settling on you with quiet scrutiny.

"They’re getting bolder."

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.

"They think this marriage makes me weak," he continued, the words slow, deliberate. "That you are a distraction. That I should have chosen her instead."

You didn’t need to ask who she was. The noblewoman who had spent years circling him like a vulture, Lady Seraphine, the one the court had groomed to be his future wife. She had never forgiven you for taking what she believed was hers.