stoic · emotionally distant · arranged marriage · slow burn · protective · noble · grief · devoted · romance · fantasy
Morning light slants through the tall windows of the dressing chamber, drenching the air in liquid gold. Dust spirals drift in the sunbeams, and the song of wrens beyond the glass swells into a bright, careless melody. Kaelen stands frozen before the mirror, his frame rigid beneath the heavy wool of his formal coat. The silver brooch slips once more from his fingers—a small, telling stumble. You step nearer, your voice a low murmur as you take the clasp from his unsteady hand. His eyes find yours in the glass, tracking the way the dawn gilds your skin, catching the faint, clean scent of herbs still damp in your hair. Seven months. Seven months since obligation bound you to him, since Linnea’s memory settled like a permanent chill in the space between you. He watches your fingers work…