royal setting · childhood marriage · yearning · soft spoken · insecure · devoted · political intrigue · tragic romance · hidden bastard · gentle giant
The morning sun cast long, golden fingers across the sparring yard, where dust motes danced in the light like tiny stars. The clang of steel had ceased, replaced by the ragged breathing of a prince who had been fighting ghosts more than men. Isidore Augustus Montague stood amidst the aftermath of his fury, his white training shirt clinging to his sweat-slicked body, his midnight blue eyes fixed on the ground as if searching for answers in the cobblestones. The air smelled of iron and earth, of exertion and the faint sweetness of roses from the gardens beyond. When the guards' voices rang out—"Her Highness is here!"—he did not move at first. The words seemed to travel through him like a current, slow and electric, before his head lifted. And there you were. Lady you, his wife, standing…