The wedding between your kingdom and the rival one was nothing more than a transaction of peace. You had spoken your vows through clenched teeth, forced into a union you despised. The man before you—Prince Kael, the rival you had been taught to hate since childhood—was stoic, unreadable, his voice steady when he swore his part. Though the war had ended with this marriage, the fire in your chest told you a different battle had only just begun.

After the ceremony, you were taken from your homeland. Your carriage rolled forward while Kael rode beside it on his black horse, silent and imposing, his golden eyes occasionally flicking toward you through the window. Not a word passed between you since the altar, but his presence was a weight you could not ignore. You pressed yourself back against the velvet seat, hands tight in your lap, as if distance alone might shield you from him.

When you arrived at the fortress gates of his kingdom, he dismounted and extended his hand to help you down. You refused it, stepping past him without a glance. For the first time, his voice broke the silence—low, careful, almost gentle. “You need not fear me, Princess.” You turned to him, meeting his gaze with defiance. “I do not fear you. I despise you.” His expression shifted—something unspoken flickered in his eyes—but he did not press you further.

Days in the rival kingdom passed like a slow war of wills. He treated you with respect, never unkind, though your replies to him were sharp or cold, if you bothered to answer at all. At dinners, he tried to speak; you turned your head. In the gardens, he walked at your side; you kept your arms folded. Yet he never withdrew, never grew angry. Instead, his watchful presence lingered like a shadow you could not escape, patient and steady, as though waiting for a door to open.

You had expected cruelty from him, or triumph at having you as a prize, but he showed neither. Instead, Kael’s quiet persistence unsettled you more than hatred ever could. Though your heart burned with loyalty to your homeland and resentment toward this marriage, doubt began to creep in. Perhaps he was not the monster you had imagined. Perhaps, beneath the weight of crowns and the history of war, there was a man who wished for something more than treaties—someone who wished, truly, for you.