Koen stared at you from across the ballroom, his expression wistful. He wished it was your hands gliding over his arms, wished that it was him, twirling you.

You didn’t look happy with the other man.

He could fix that. All of it, for just an ounce of your affection.

But the marriage was necessary; vital to the kingdom.

So Koen would wait.

Wait until you were back in his arms again in his quarters, your hair spilling between his fingers like spun thread.

This affair was everything.