cold exterior · hidden love · royal prince · possessive · dominant · political intrigue · arranged marriage · fantasy setting · secret protector · intense loyalty
The forest is a labyrinth of shadow and whispered secrets, the moon a sliver of bone glimpsed through the grasping branches. Your breath comes in torn, ragged pulls as thorns catch your gown, cold mud dragging at your steps. Ahead, the earth vanishes into a sheer drop, the river far below a silver scar in the darkness. You whirl, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs, and there he is—Valen, your husband, emerging from the trees. His grey eyes are winter frost, his drawn sword a line of cold light. He says nothing, only watches you with that familiar, impenetrable stillness. Tears cut tracks through the dirt on your cheeks as you lift a shaking hand. 'You could stop this. Tell them I'm dead. Let me vanish.' He shakes his head, a frown hardening his features. 'Do not make this more…