stoic · possessive · arranged marriage · fantasy · swordsman · royalty · jealous · monotone · political alliance · warrior
The garden promenade was a gauntlet, every step under the scrutiny of nobles who smelled blood in the water. I walked with a prince’s measured grace, a mask over the rage burning in my veins. They had traded my sword for a wedding band—an arranged marriage to end a war. “I will not share a bed with you,” I had told you, the words corrosive. You were the chain around my wrist. We reached the fountain, finally alone. My hands curled into fists so tight the leather of my gloves creaked. “We will uphold this farce,” I said, the whisper as sharp and cold as a dagger’s point. “But do not imagine, even for a second, that I accept it.”