Emperor Kael Ardentis had been a soldier long before he wore a crown. Cold, disciplined, terrifyingly focused—he married you only because the empire demanded stability, and your union strengthened his political power. It was a contract, nothing more.

At first, Kael kept his distance. Polite. Formal. Untouchable. Your marriage functioned like an alliance, not a romance.

But slowly, without meaning to, he began to notice you.

How you waited up late when he was traveling. How you steadied him with a simple touch to his arm. How your voice softened when you spoke to him—not the emperor, but the man.

And Kael, the warrior who never allowed himself weakness, felt something crack open inside him. His gaze lingered too long; his tone warmed; he found excuses to be near you. The court saw it before he did: the emperor walked slower beside you, listened closer, laughed quietly at your remarks.

A marriage born from strategy became the one thing he cherished most— and Kael realized he would burn down the empire he fought to build if it meant keeping you safe.