"You have until ten o'clock tomorrow morning," Kaelen had said.
"Either come downstairs in the wedding dress provided to you—or prepare yourself for travel."
"The decision is yours."
Those words echo relentlessly in my mind. After reading the marriage contract, I was too stunned to speak.
The decision is yours.
Was it really?
A choice between allowing my family's centuries-old legacy to be erased in a single stroke… or binding myself—body and soul—to the man who destroyed us.
Never in my twenty years have I felt more helpless. More powerless. More stripped of myself.
If I let Saelow sign the treaty at Dresdened Castle, I'd never forgive myself. So here I am, descending the stairs in a wedding dress. It's two minutes to ten. My veil hides the storm simmering beneath my skin.
Kaelen waits for me in the grand hall. His council is assembled—of course they are. They already knew what my decision would be.
"The priest is here, and so are the witnesses. We should proceed," Harlin says, voice even.
I avoid every eye in the room. Especially Kaelen's.
"The ceremony will take place in the garden," Kaelen informs me.
"Harlin, will you escort me?" I ask, cutting through Kaelen's voice like a blade.
Harlin bows with a smile. "It would be my pleasure, Princess."
"I'll be waiting outside," Kaelen mutters to no one in particular.
The garden is surprisingly beautiful—laced with fresh blooms, a path of scattered petals leading to a simple archway. Kaelen stands beneath it beside the priest, solemn and still.
I release Harlin's hand and join Kaelen without sparing him a glance. The priest begins his recitation, his voice formal, ancient.
"Today you come as two, but you must leave as one. You will love, respect, and care for each other. You will accept one another with mind, body, and soul. Your love must not be swept away by strong winds, nor falter on uneven ground, nor sink in troubled seas. It must endure all hardships in life."
He turns first to Kaelen.
"Do you, Kaelen Thorne, take Nyriane Starwyn as your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do."
His answer comes without hesitation.
"Do you, Nyriane Starwyn, take Kaelen Thorne as your lawfully wedded husband?"
I sneer "Do I? I suppose… I do."
"Princess, I need a clear answer." looks awkwardly between Kaelen and I.
I meet his gaze. "I do."
A cough breaks the silence. If Kaelen reacts, I don't look to see. I won't give him that satisfaction.
"Then by God's witness, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal your union with a kiss."
Kaelen steps toward me. I stiffen. He lifts my veil. I turn my head away, but his hand finds my chin and gently—yet firmly—tilts my face to his. His glacier eyes are unreadable. No fury. No triumph. Only… resolve.
He lowers his head. His lips brush mine softly—no passion, no claim. Just a formality.
"Congratulations. You are now one," the priest declares.
I don't wait. I whirl and march back into the manor. The moment I'm inside, I yank the pin from my veil and fling it, veil and all, across the room. The maids gasp, but I couldn't care less.
"Leave," Kaelen orders from behind.
The maids scatter. Now it's just the two of us.
I turn to him, fire burning within me. "Welcome, my husband."
He watches me, still silent.
"What lovely vows, don't you think?" I say, laughing bitterly. "Love. Respect. Care. What a joke."
He says nothing. His calm is infuriating.
"I hate you, Kaelen Thorne. With every fiber of my being. I loathe your existence. I want nothing—nothing—to do with you."
I step closer, face lifted in defiance.
"Those are my real vows. This is your marriage. Congratulations."
"Nyriane…"
"Oh? No longer 'Princess'? Or have I been upgraded—Queen, perhaps? Lady Commander?"
"Nyriane, I think we should talk about this at a later—"
"No." I jab a finger toward him. "Don't expect any of this to change. This?" I gesture between us. "This is your future. You will regret this day for the rest of your miserable life."
I take another step, expecting fury, but there's only… something strange in his eyes. Something almost like softness. Endearment?
I recoil.
Turning sharply, I storm upstairs. Halfway up, I pause, spin on my heel.
"AND I WANT FRIYA BACK!" I shout, without sparing him another look.
And then I vanish down the corridor, desperate to claw my way out of this wretched dress.
Kaelen's POV
She disappeared up the stairs in a flurry of silk and venom, her final words still ringing through the foyer:
"AND I WANT FRIYA BACK!"
I almost laughed.
Almost.
The foyer was silent now, the sweet scent of crushed gardenia from her veil lingering faintly in the air. I stared at the space she had occupied just seconds ago—my new wife, seething, proud, magnificent in her fury.
Well. That went about as smoothly as expected.
Harlin emerged quietly from the side hall, his brows raised in mild alarm.
"Umm... she'll come around later, Lord Commander," he said warily.
"It's to be expected," I replied simply. "Nyriane isn't one to take things lying down."
"Things will get better once you get to know each other better."
"Why would she want anything to do with the man who forced her into marriage? I know I wouldn't, if I were in her place."
"This is a political marriage, Lord Commander. They happen all the time," Harlin sighed. "Just give her some time."
He lingered, probably unsure how to reassure me. I didn't blame him. I had just been publicly eviscerated.
But it hadn't stung.
Not exactly.
Nyriane Starwyn was many things—a prisoner, a political tool, a symbol of everything my father had tried to destroy—but today she had proven something else entirely.
She didn't let fear hold her back or back down from a fight. She had strength and courage I rarely saw in people—especially when they were facing me.
She's wounded, but not broken.
I turned toward the window, watching the wind stir the petals we'd scattered down the garden path.
So this is marriage, I thought, not without irony.
Father always warned me about love and marriage. How I must avoid weakness at all costs—and how a man's greatest weakness was his heart.
I could almost imagine him at this moment, scolding me from the heavens for getting myself into this mess.
But even he would know I couldn't avoid it.
Even though we were stronger and more powerful than the loyalists, our claim to the throne was weak. Neighboring kingdoms feared that allying with the Starwyns would stir up rebellion in their own courts—but they secretly supported them instead.
Craven's death had weakened the state even more, and I could feel them circling us like a pack of wolves. I tried avoiding this fate, even after my council implored me to take this step. But after Nyriane's escape attempt, I realized this was inevitable.
Either take Nyriane as my wife and secure the throne of Velmoria—or have it snatched back into the corrupt hands of the loyalists.
"Bring Friya back to her," I said finally. "Maybe she'll calm down a bit after seeing her."
"And what about you, my lord?" Harlin asked.
I smiled faintly, the expression more tired than amused.
"Me?" I murmured, turning away. "I think I just married a storm."