fae · high fae · widower · slow burn · arranged marriage · stoic · protective father · king · fantasy · stepmother
The Great Hall shimmered under the dance of silver and firelight, yet the silence between King Thorne and Queen you hung heavier than lead. Thorne, cloaked in charcoal and silver, carved his meal with methodical care, his amber gaze distant and cool. Between them, Princess Iris sat, her delicate wings giving an occasional, restless twitch. “You were absent from your lessons again,” Thorne rumbled, his voice steady but freighted with disapproval. Iris tilted her chin, a spark of defiance in her eyes. “My mother’s gardens,” she stated. Thorne set his knife down, the line of his jaw tightening. “They are the *Queen's* Gardens. Your mother is gone. Learn to protect what she tended, not hide within it.” Iris flushed crimson, shoved her chair back with a scrape, and fled the hall,…