I spent the next few days saying goodbye to the capital's residents, moving through the familiar streets and visiting the places that had shaped my entire life. Even though I was their queen by title and bloodline, they had raised me as if I were truly one of their own children, treating me with warmth and familiarity rather than cold formality. There wasn't a single corner of the capital that Salime and I hadn't explored together during our youth—every narrow alleyway, every hidden courtyard, every secret garden held memories of our shared childhood. We were, in the truest sense, a very large extended family bound not just by duty but by genuine affection. There were tears flowing freely, warm embraces that lasted long moments, and soft words of encouragement whispered in my ear by people who had watched me grow from a child into the woman I had become. I appreciated and treasured each and every one of them, knowing I was leaving behind something precious and irreplaceable.
Outside the imposing capital walls, Arvid and his massive imperial army were also engaged in the monumental task of packing up to leave, preparing for the long journey south. It took them quite some time—far longer than anyone had initially anticipated. They had brought approximately twenty thousand soldiers with them, a staggering number that stretched across the plains like a sea of tents and banners, and they also had to deal with the massive siege machines that needed to be carefully dismantled and loaded onto reinforced carts for transport. These war machines were enormous, complex constructions of wood and metal that required teams of men to break down properly. By the end of the second day, despite working from dawn until well after dark, they were only about halfway done with their preparations. I seriously doubted we would actually be able to leave on the third day as we had originally planned and announced, so I made the executive decision to order Salime and his men to help them with the work, hoping that additional hands would speed the process along.
While I stood on a slight rise watching the organized chaos of the process unfold below me, taking in the sight of thousands of men working in coordinated teams, Arvid walked over from where he'd been supervising and came to stand beside me. His presence was warm and solid, reassuring in its familiarity despite how recently we'd been married.
"Thanks for the help," he said quietly, his voice carrying genuine gratitude as he watched Salime's men integrate seamlessly with his own soldiers. "We would have been here for another three days at least without your people's assistance."
I nodded in acknowledgment, accepting his thanks, but my eyes had already drifted almost involuntarily back to Salime. I couldn't seem to help myself. He and his men were currently working on loading one of the larger siege machines onto a specially constructed cart, and I watched as he moved with practiced ease and considerable strength, his muscles flexing visibly beneath his tunic as he lifted heavy wooden beams. He made it look effortless, moving with a natural grace that came from years of physical training. His display was impressive enough that some of the imperial soldiers had stopped their own work to watch him in obvious awe, murmuring to each other in appreciation. A strange, complicated pride swelled unexpectedly in my chest as I watched him—pride mixed with nostalgia and a lingering fondness I couldn't quite suppress.
"Do you still love him?" Arvid asked suddenly, his voice quiet but tinged unmistakably with sadness and something that sounded almost like resignation. The question hung in the air between us, heavy and loaded with implications.
That unexpected inquiry snapped my attention immediately back to him, pulling my gaze away from Salime.
"What? How do you know?" I whipped my head toward him in surprise, my eyes widening. He looked utterly miserable, like a puppy that had been kicked by its beloved owner—hurt and confused and trying not to show how much it affected him.
"It was obvious," he said softly, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You never took your eyes off him the entire time we've been standing here. Am I taking you away from him against your will? Will you resent me for this marriage, for forcing this situation? Will you grow to hate me over time—" He kept rambling, his words tumbling out faster and faster as his anxiety built.
"To answer your questions—no, and no," I cut in gently but firmly, stopping his spiral of worried speculation before it could continue further. "But I have a question for you now, if you'll hear it."
He looked genuinely surprised by that, his eyebrows rising, and then he seemed to physically brace himself for whatever I might ask, his body tensing.
"What is it?" he asked softly, cautiously. Our eyes met and held—his ash-gray gaze meeting my dark onyx one, intertwined in a moment of unexpected intimacy and vulnerability.
"Why did you want to marry me?" I asked, finally voicing the question that had haunted me from the very beginning of this arrangement, the question I'd asked myself countless times in the privacy of my own thoughts but never dared ask him directly. I had been afraid he might shatter the fragile peace treaty with his answer, that the truth might be something I couldn't bear to hear. But now that we had already tied the knot, now that the marriage was completed and could not be easily undone, I desperately needed to know. Was it solely because of my dragon blood and the power it represented? Was it some political calculation I hadn't understood? Or was it something more sinister, some hidden agenda I hadn't yet uncovered?
Arvid's eyes widened dramatically at the question, clearly not expecting it. Then, to my utter astonishment, he suddenly slapped a hand over his mouth and turned sharply away from me, as if deeply embarrassed by something.
…Was he actually being shy? This powerful commander who led twenty thousand soldiers?
Confused and determined to get my answer, I reached out and grabbed his hand firmly, using it to turn him back toward me physically. He resisted slightly but allowed himself to be moved, though he still tried desperately to avoid meeting my gaze directly, his eyes looking everywhere except at my face.
"Arvid!" I called his name firmly, putting authority into my voice in a way I rarely did with him.
He looked at me for a single heartbeat, our eyes connecting briefly, and then he immediately looked away again like a nervous schoolboy, his cheeks actually coloring slightly.
"Give me some time," he finally managed to say, the words coming out almost strangled. "I'll answer you properly, I promise. Just… give me some time to find the right words." And then, before I could respond or press him further, he simply turned and ran off—literally ran, like a flustered teenager with an overwhelming crush who couldn't handle direct confrontation.
It was completely odd and unexpected behavior from someone of his rank and experience. Did he actually genuinely like me as a person, harbor real feelings beyond political convenience? Or was he simply a very skilled and convincing actor playing a role to perfection? I truly couldn't tell, and the uncertainty gnawed at me.
The sound of footsteps approaching from behind pulled me from my confused thoughts. I turned around, curious about who was coming—and immediately frowned when I recognized the figure. It was one of Armie's priestesses, identifiable by her distinctive robes. But this wasn't just any priestess sent with a routine message. This was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, ethereal-looking woman I knew all too well, someone whose presence brought with it a flood of complicated memories and old guilt. She wore the traditional white priestess robe that marked her station, but unusually, her veil was lifted back to show her face rather than covering it in the modest way priestesses typically maintained in public.
"I heard you got married," she said with deliberate casualness as she stepped up beside me, though her tone carried undertones of something sharper. "And apparently it wasn't to Salime after all." Her lips curved into a knowing smirk that made her look even more wicked and calculating than she actually was beneath the surface.
I said nothing in response to her provocative statement and simply turned to leave, not wanting to engage in whatever confrontation she had planned. I had enough emotional weight to carry without adding this to it.
"I'll marry him, you know," she continued behind me, her voice carrying clearly. "Just as I was always supposed to do, as was originally planned before you interfered."
I froze mid-step, my entire body going rigid at those words.
Perhaps this was the Gods' punishment for me, for my past actions and jealous choices finally coming home to demand payment.
She had been Salime's official fiancée—carefully chosen by his father when they were both children, a match arranged between families. And I… I had been consumed by jealousy at the time, unable to bear the thought of them together. I had deliberately nominated her to become one of Armie's priestesses when she was only fourteen years old, knowing full well what that meant. I had sent her away to the isolated Temple on Mount Serana for seven years of strict training and enforced purity, seven years of religious devotion that kept her far from Salime and from any possibility of marriage. Those seven long years had finally passed now. According to tradition and law, she could now freely choose her own fate—to remain a priestess and continue serving the goddess, or to leave the order and return to secular life.
And I knew exactly which option she would choose. She had always adored Salime with an almost worshipful devotion. Everyone in Draga knew it, could see it in the way she looked at him.
She was also, I remembered with a wince of old shame, the one who had snitched on us and gotten Salime and me caught when we shared our second kiss. To be completely fair to her, I shouldn't have been so deliberately provocative—I shouldn't have kissed him inside Armie's sacred temple right in front of her just to prove some petty point about who he belonged to.
I had hated her passionately then—just as intensely as she had hated me. She had torn open the gap between Salime and me, exposing our secret relationship. After that incident and the scandal it caused, we were forcibly kept apart. Our first love had faded gradually, starved of proximity and possibility. I was trained intensively for the responsibilities of the throne, prepared for the weight of the crown, and we were deliberately kept separated for four long years until whatever we'd had between us had withered into fond memory.
I turned back to face her directly now and stepped closer, closing the distance between us, and looked into her eyes.
"Do as you wish," I said softly, meaning it sincerely. "And I know this is far too late, years overdue, but… I'm genuinely sorry for what I did to you. It was cruel and selfish."
She looked genuinely surprised by the apology, her eyes widening and her mouth falling slightly open. Then her expression twisted into something complicated—anger mixed with confusion and perhaps the faintest hint of grudging respect.
"I will never forgive you!" she declared dramatically, her voice ringing with conviction. Then she turned on her heel and walked away with the graceful, measured steps that her intensive priestess training had carved permanently into her bearing and posture. I just smiled sadly, watching her go. She had grown and matured in many ways during her time at the temple—but emotionally, she was still somewhat childish in her absolutes and her inability to see shades of gray.
Let our wounded hearts heal with time and with the mercy of the Gods of Mount Serana, I thought. That was my sincere wish, for both of us and for Salime as well.
---
Arvid had been absolutely right in his assessment. By the late afternoon of the third day, after countless hours of coordinated effort from both armies working together, we were finally, truly ready to depart. My personal maids bustled around efficiently, helping to pack my belongings—clothes, personal items, books, everything I would need for the journey—into the comfortable carriage that had been prepared for my use. After some consideration and Arvid's hopeful looks, I decided to share the carriage space with a very eager and very curious Arvid, who seemed genuinely delighted by the prospect of having extended time to talk with me during the journey.
Before stepping inside the carriage and leaving everything behind, I paused at the door and turned to take one last, long look at the kingdom I was leaving behind. My Draga. My home for all twenty-one years of my life. Everything I had ever known, every memory I possessed, was contained within these walls and these lands. The familiar architecture, the mountains in the distance, the way the light fell across the rooftops—I tried to memorize it all, to burn it into my memory so I would never forget.
People had gathered in enormous numbers to say their farewells, lining the streets and filling every available space. They smiled at me through their tears, their faces a mixture of joy and sorrow, sobbing openly into their handkerchiefs while waving and calling out blessings. My great, beloved extended family—every face precious to me.
Before my own tears could spill over and fall, betraying the depth of my emotion, I quickly stepped into the carriage and let the door close behind me, shutting away my old life and stepping forward into whatever unknown future awaited me in the south.