The meal slowly came to an end, the noise of clinking utensils and casual conversations fading as the servants cleared away the plates. Davinia sat back in her chair, feeling the heaviness of the morning press down on her shoulders. She had barely touched her food, too distracted by the cold silence that hung over the room like a thick fog.
As the last of the guests began to leave the table, Davinia stood up, eager for a distraction. She excused herself, murmuring a polite goodbye to the royals, and stepped outside into the cool air of the palace garden.
She needed a moment to breathe.
She found a small alcove near the east wing where she could gather her thoughts. It was a quiet spot, away from the noise of the festivities. As she was walking through the winding paths, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Turning, she saw Prince Ozias his casual demeanor standing in stark contrast to the rigid formality of the others.
"Princess Davinia," he greeted, his tone gentle but direct. "Are you okay?"
Davinia was surprised by the concern in his voice. He had been aloof, distant even, at the wedding, and she hadn't expected much conversation from him afterward. But there he was, his gaze soft and genuine.
"I... I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile. She couldn't tell him the truth, the bitterness, the loneliness that settled in her chest like a stone. "Just... adjusting."
Ozias nodded slowly, as if he could sense her unspoken thoughts. "It's difficult at first," he said, looking over his shoulder as though making sure no one was eavesdropping. "Kaelum... well, he's not the easiest to get close to. But that's just how he is."
Davinia blinked, surprised by his frankness. "And you think...?"
"I think patience might be your best option," Ozias continued, his eyes thoughtful. "If you want his attention, you might have to go to him. He won't come to you. But that doesn't mean you can't make the first move."
He paused, studying her expression. "You could bring him something to eat. I'm sure he's in the training room now and haven't had breakfast. It's not a bad idea, really. If you won't look for him, at least try to meet him halfway."
Davinia hesitated, the thought of actually seeking out her husband making her stomach tighten. She had hoped that, somehow, he would come to her first. That maybe he would care, even just a little. But it seemed that was a dream she'd have to let go of.
Still, Ozias's suggestion wasn't terrible. If anything, it showed that at least one person in the palace cared enough to offer advice.
"Thank you," she said quietly, nodding. "I'll... I'll try."
Ozias smiled, the warmth in his expression a contrast to his usual guarded demeanor. "I'm sure it will help," he said softly, then turned to leave. "Good luck, Princess. You're not alone in this."
Later in the training wing...
Davinia found herself standing at the threshold of the training room, her heart pounding in her chest. She was holding a tray of food, simple bread, meats, and fruits, prepared for her husband, though she had no idea what he would think of it. She had never had to chase after someone's attention like this, especially not a man she had only just met.
Tamila, her ever-loyal maid, stood beside her, her hand lightly resting on her arm. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Princess," Tamila whispered. "You deserve more than this, more than chasing after a man who doesn't even care."
But Davinia shook her head. "No, I have to. At least I can say I tried."
With a deep breath, she pushed the door open, bracing herself for whatever reaction might come, cold indifference, a dismissive wave, perhaps a barely muttered thank you.
But what she wasn't prepared for… was him.
Kaelum turned around, startled by the sound. And Davinia's world tilted.
Her mouth parted involuntarily, breath catching in her throat.
He was shirtless.
And drenched in sweat.
The overhead torchlight caught the hard lines of his torso, every curve of his sculpted abs, the defined V of his hips disappearing into his dark pants, the glisten of sweat clinging to his skin like dew on bronze. His chest rose and fell with the weight of his breathing, the powerful motion of a man who'd been pushing his body to the brink.
He looked like he had been carved from stone by the gods themselves.
Her eyes widened, and for the first time since their wedding, he noticed. He froze mid-step, his dark eyes locking with hers.
Shock flickered in his gaze, brief, almost vulnerable, but then it vanished just as quickly, shuttered behind the cold, blank mask he always wore. As if he regretted letting her see even that flicker of reaction.
Davinia snapped out of it, heat creeping up her neck. She quickly lowered her gaze, pretending to straighten the tray she held.
"I... I brought you some food," she managed to say, forcing steadiness into her voice as she stepped into the training room.
Kaelum didn't say a word at first.
But then he moved too fast. Before she could even register the motion, he had closed the distance between them. His scent, clean sweat, cedar, and a hint of leather, wrapped around her like a second skin. He reached for the tray with one calloused hand, his fingers brushing hers just long enough to make her breath hitch.
"Thank you," he muttered.
Then he turned his back to her, walking away with the same sharp energy he always carried, but now she could see it.
Gods.
His back.
It was just as devastating as the front broad and powerful, every muscle flexing with movement, sweat trailing down his spine like water on stone. The room was already hot from his training, but now it felt smothering.
She swallowed. Hard.
She had no idea he looked like that underneath all the tailored coats and crisp collars. No wonder he carried himself like a man who didn't need words, his body alone could command a room.
Davinia stood there awkwardly, unsure if she should say something more or simply flee before she humiliated herself further.
He said nothing. Just set the tray down on a bench and reached for his towel, using it to scrub the sweat off the back of his neck. His silence was maddening. Not dismissive this time… but heavy. Weighted. And she didn't know what it meant.
"Did you sleep well?" she finally asked, her voice quiet.
Kaelum paused for a heartbeat.
"Fine," he said without turning.
And just like that, the wall was back up.
Still… he hadn't told her to leave. And that alone felt like progress.
But just as Davinia turned slightly, preparing to excuse herself from the suffocating tension of the room, Prince Kaelum's voice stopped her.
"Did you enjoy breakfast?" he asked, without looking at her.
She blinked, startled. It was the first time he'd spoken to her like this, with the faintest trace of effort or maybe curiosity.
"I did," she replied carefully, watching his back. "The food was lovely... though, a certain important presence was missing."
He froze, only slightly, but she caught it. The way his shoulders tensed.
"Someone missed his first breakfast with his wife," she added, the words out before she could soften them.
Kaelum turned around this time, slowly. His expression unreadable, but his gaze sharp.
"Are you... hurt by that?" he asked, tone almost mocking but edged with something deeper. Disbelief?
Davinia hesitated. Her lips parted. "I—"
But she didn't get the chance to finish. "What were you expecting from me?" he said coolly. "That I'd wake up smiling? That I'd notice the way you walk into a room? This is just an arranged marriage, Princess. We didn't fall in love. We didn't choose this. So don't act like this is some tragic slight."
His words were blades, each syllable slicing deeper than the last. Davinia felt her throat tighten. The sting behind her eyes came swift and cruel, but she refused to let a single tear fall in front of him. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay steady, to not crumble under the weight of his indifference.
"I see," she said quietly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "You're right. I understand."
He stepped closer, towering over her now, his presence cold but undeniably commanding. "Learn to live with it," he said. "I'm a prince. I have duties, responsibilities, expectations far beyond... this." He waved a hand vaguely in the air, like the idea of a wife barely registered. "So do your best to refrain from making little assumptions with your pretty little mind. I'm not avoiding you. I simply have better things to do."
That was it.
The final slap.
Davinia drew a breath, nodded once, and backed away without another word. The food had gone untouched, and so had her heart, except now it bore a fresh bruise. She turned and walked out, chin lifted, dignity intact, though her heart felt like it had been shattered and rearranged by frost. He didn't stop her nor call her back.
And maybe that hurt worst of all.
It had been days since the awkward encounter with Kaelum in the training room. His coldness hadn't wavered, and neither had hers. The silence between them was like a thick, oppressive fog that neither of them seemed willing to break. Davinia had learned to eat alone, sleep alone, and drift through her days like a ghost in her own home.
Meals were often a quiet affair, except when Kaelum's mother, the Queen, was present. She had started to warm to Davinia in a way that felt reassuring, like a lifeline in this strange world. They shared tea together, and sometimes, when the mood struck, they would laugh over trivial matters, things that felt normal, almost comforting. Kaelum's mother often gave her little advice, speaking of patience in a way that almost made Davinia feel as if she were the one at fault for not being more patient with her husband.
"Marriage, dear," she would say, "isn't always easy. You'll learn to live with the silence. But remember, sometimes, the quiet speaks more than words ever can."
Davinia would smile faintly, nodding even though the words felt foreign in her mouth. Could she really learn to live with the silence? Was that all she could do? Still Milena would tease her playfully about beadwork, and Ozias, bless him, never missed a chance to make her laugh, even if his jests occasionally walked the line of flirtation.
Then there were the princesses. The bead-making class had become her safe haven. They chatted about palace life, gossiped about noblemen, and taught Davinia how to string patterns of gold and sapphire with careful fingers. Their inclusion was unexpected, but not unwelcome. For the first time since arriving, Davinia felt something close to friendship.
Tamila remained her quiet shadow, the only one who knew how often Davinia cried behind her closed doors. The maid never spoke of it. She only brought warm drinks, soft robes, and silent comfort.
But today… today had been different.
Because today, the princes and the King had gone hunting.
.
.
.
Somewhere in the dense woods beyond the palace, the scent of pine and the snap of twigs underfoot filled the air.
Five brothers and their father rode together, the thundering hooves of their horses echoing through the trees. The hunt wasn't just for wild boars or deer, it was also a long-standing tradition, a time to speak of things they rarely did within the stone walls of court.
Kaelum rode slightly ahead, his bow strapped to his back, his face serious.
"You're quiet today," said Jasiel, trotting up beside him. "Even quieter than usual."
Kaelum didn't reply.
Their father, King Aaron, cleared his throat behind them. "Let the boy breathe, Jasiel."
"He's been breathing fine," Henry muttered from behind them, dry as ever. "Too fine, actually. You'd think getting married would make a man at least pretend to be human."
Kaelum tensed, jaw ticking.
"He hasn't even spoken to the girl," Jasiel added, glancing toward Ozias for confirmation.
Ozias shrugged. "I think I've said more to her in a week than he has altogether. And I'm not the one who married her."
"She's a good girl," said the King finally, his voice low. "Polite. Gentle. Not a bad match. If anything, more than what I expected. And yet, you," he fixed Kaelum with a stare "treat her like she's your punishment."
Kaelum didn't look at his father. "I never asked for this marriage."
"And yet, here we are," Henry said grimly. "None of us asked for the things we were born into. Get over it."
"You're not doing her a favor by ignoring her," the King continued, not raising his voice, but making every word sharp enough to cut bark from a tree. "If you can't love her, at least treat her with the respect due a princess. If you can't give her your heart, at least don't give her your coldness."
For a long moment, Kaelum didn't respond. Then, almost too soft to hear, he muttered, "I don't know how."
"Learn," Aaron replied.
.
.
.
Back at the palace, Davinia sat by the window, strings of pearls dangling from her fingers. Outside, the sky had begun to darken, signaling the return of the hunting party.
Tamila stepped into the room quietly. "The princes have returned, my lady."
Davinia looked up. "Kaelum?"
"Yes. He's gone to the bathhouse with the others."
Davinia nodded, then looked away, her heart oddly restless. She had no idea what they had discussed during their time in the woods, but something in her gut twisted with the feeling that perhaps… just perhaps… her name had been mentioned.
But would it change anything?
She didn't know. But something was shifting. Whether it would be warmth or a colder storm ahead, only time would tell.