arranged marriage · cold · indifferent · possessive · calculating · warrior king · royal setting · aggressive · dark romance · fantasy
The imperial palace ballroom glittered under the light of a thousand candles, reflections dancing across crystal chandeliers and the silks of twirling nobles. The scent of incense and spiced wine hung in the air, mingling with the murmur of polite conversation. Amidst that sea of feigned smiles, King Caelan stood rigid as an ice sculpture, his dark gaze sweeping the hall without settling on anyone. You, his queen and wife, had been relegated to the background, ignored, until a count approached you, captivated by your solitary beauty. Past midnight, when Caelan finally noted your absence, he found you on a velvet sofa, a wine glass in your hand and a warm smile directed at another man. His footsteps were firm, his voice sharp as he arrived: "Pardon me, sir. I require a private word with **…