I've already removed my wedding dress and changed into something simpler. The chill is creeping in more each day, so I take a soft shawl and wrap it around my shoulders.
Outside the window, the petals scattered across the pathways are now being swept away by the wind.
So much for not being swept away by strong winds, I mutter bitterly to no one in particular.
A knock, then a familiar voice at the door.
"May I come in?"
"Friya!" I exclaim, rushing forward to embrace her. But she doesn't return it.
"I'm really sorry," I whisper, tears prickling in my eyes. "I only wanted to escape and get back to my brother. I never meant to hurt you."
"It's alright, Princess," Friya replies, though her voice is cool and distant. "You did what you felt was necessary."
She glances around briefly. "I heard you didn't have breakfast. I'll bring something up."
Then she's gone without another word.
I sink into the nearest sofa, burying my face in my hands.
With a long sigh, I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling. Saelow. He'll soon receive word of my marriage to Kaelen. I can't imagine how that news will strike him.
In our world, marriage isn't a passing contract. Once the priest declares you husband and wife, it's binding. Divorce isn't an option. Separation is allowed, but even if you lived oceans apart, you'd still be considered married. And political marriages? Nearly impossible to annul. The House of God forbids it. There's no precedent—only failed attempts in history.
Whether I liked it or not, I was bound to Kaelen Thorne and the revolutionaries for life. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
My mind drifts to the last conversation I had with my brother. It was in spring, just before he left for Bathora to gather support.
"I need you to take care of the books while I'm gone, Nyriane," he said.
"I'm no stranger to bookkeeping," I retorted. "Especially when you and Father are always off somewhere."
"You're being resentful again. Let's see if you're still resentful when we win back our throne."
"Father's been on the losing end of the war for fifteen years. Do you really want to inherit that struggle?"
"Things are changing," he said, patting my head. "And you're part of that change, little sister."
"Me? What are you talking about?"
"You'll see," he shrugged it off. "Until then, remember that bookkeeping means handling all of Dresdened Castle's affairs—plus the surrounding villages."
"About that… Don't you think we should raise the farmers' wages?"
"Why would we do that?"
"We had a good harvest. Shouldn't they be rewarded for their work?"
"Nyriane, they don't need a wage increase. They did what they were supposed to do."
"But we profited—"
"And raising wages cuts into that. We're at war. We need every coin."
"I guess you're right." Like always, I swallowed my thoughts—for peace.
I press my temples, sinking further into the cushions. My head throbs. I haven't slept properly in two days. At last, I give in and let my eyes close.
---
I open my eyes, expecting it's only been a moment—but the room is dark, the curtains drawn. I'm no longer on the sofa but lying in bed. I sit up, stretching and squinting at the wall clock. Two? Maybe three in the morning?
I slept through the entire day.
I reach for a glass of water. Just as I sip, something catches my eye. I turn—and scream.
Sleeping beside me, in robes and informal pants, is Kaelen.
"What's wrong?" He bolts upright, still half-asleep.
"What's wrong?!" I shriek, echoing him. "What are you doing here?"
"This is my room," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes.
"What do you mean this is your room? I've been here since yesterday!"
"Yes. In my room."
"You gave it to me!"
"You're forgetting something," he says, stretching. "We got married today."
"So?!"
"So… married people share a bed, Nyriane."
I curse myself for insisting he not call me princess. Hearing him say my name feels too… personal.
"Kaelen, I'd rather sleep in a den full of lions than next to you!"
"It's the middle of the night, and I—unlike you—have a regular sleep schedule. We'll discuss the terms and conditions of our marriage in the morning."
His robe shifts slightly, revealing the defined muscles of his abdomen. I swiftly turn away, cheeks burning. Kaelen seems to interpret my silence as surrender and lies back down.
I'm ready to argue but stop myself. Terms and conditions? That could work in my favor. Before I can think more on it, my stomach growls.
I glance at the diamond ring on my finger. Another escape attempt would be pointless—and everyone in the manor knows it.
Why should I be confined like a prisoner still?
Wrapping my shawl tighter, I slip out of the room. Two guards follow, but I ignore them.
As I near the kitchen, I hear voices, the night chef, and the snack-loving guard.
"I'm telling you, my wife is really on my case—" The chef stops abruptly when he sees me.
I walk in and sit at the table across from the guard "I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat?"
"Uh, princess… I mean, my queen… I'll bring something up—"
"Is there a rule against me eating here?"
"No—no rule, but…"
"Then it's settled. Names?"
"I'm Rex, the night chef."
"Fabian. Guard."
"Nice to meet you, Fabian and Rex. So—what's on the menu?"
They exchange awkward glances.
"Rex," I say, biting into the sandwich he Rex had made me, "Darleen has a point. Spoiling the children makes her the bad guy."
"The queen's right," Fabian adds. "Both parents need to present a united front."
"But those little doe eyes…"
"Those little rascals are manipulating you," I say, amused. "And you're letting them."
"I guess you're both right," Rex concedes.
A throat clears behind me. My blood turns to ice.
"What is this? A dawn counseling session?"
I glance out the small kitchen window. The first light of day has arrived.
"Lord Commander," Rex says, stiffening. "The queen was hungry… she insisted on staying here… we were just keeping her company."
Kaelen eyes Fabian. "Snacking again?"
"My shift ended hours ago, sir. I was just… talking with Rex…"
Kaelen steps forward until he's right behind me. His chest nearly grazes my back, and heat radiates from him. I stiffen his mere presence sending shock waves throughout my body. He leans over, inspecting my sandwich.
"Cold cuts, cheese, tomato, lettuce… and dressing. Very nutritious." Dangling a piece of lettuce in the air.
"It has all four food groups."
"There are five."
"I knew that," I snap, turning to glare at him. "Weren't you asleep? Something about a sleep schedule?"
A faint smile tugs at his lips. "Sorry to disappoint. I'll try not to sleep before you."
My face burns. Well played, Kaelen. Well played.
Behind me, someone coughs awkwardly.
"I'm done," I say, rising. "Thank you, Rex, for the sandwich. Fabian, thank you for the company. Apologies for the interruption."
And with that, I sweep from the kitchen—my shawl trailing behind me, my dignity mostly intact.