"Your Highness, please forgive us," one of the guards stammered, his voice shaky, head low, hands clenched tight together like he was begging the gods themselves.
"This woman is the truce exchange. She was brought in today. We—we lost sight of her for a moment. Apologies, truly."
Amira blinked, heart skipping. Truce exchange. That word again. Like she was a coin passed between kingdoms. She looked up, eyes locking on the man the guards were bowing to. Your Highness, they had said. But this didn't feel like any prince she imagined. He didn't look noble he looked like danger carved into flesh. Cold and still like a shadow too sharp to be touched.
"Take her back to the celebration," he said. His voice was low, calm, but it didn't sound kind. "And make sure you two receive your punishment for slacking off."
The guards froze. They didn't even raise their heads she could see their backs stiffen. One of them swallowed audibly. Amira felt her stomach tighten.
He waved a hand and they bowed deeper, scrambling to obey.
One of them gestured for her to turn, and she did slowly. Why is everyone so scared of him? she wondered. Why does it feel like I should be, too? She kept her gaze low, feet quiet on the stone. Not a sound but the hush of her breathing.
Still, before she was fully turned away, her gaze flicked back. Just once. Their eyes met only for a breath.
And then he was gone. Like he had vanished into thin air.
She didn't even hear him leave.
---
Back in the grand hall, the noise of music and chatter wrapped around her like a too-tight blanket. Her seat felt far too big for her, too exposed. She sat down quietly. Just as she tried to steady her breath, Nora appeared, crouching beside her with wide eyes.
"My lady your neck. You're bleeding."
The words slapped her, and Amira blinked. "What?"
Nora leaned in closer, whispering like the royal family might hear. "Don't touch it too much, just here." She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it gently to the side of Amira's neck.
Amira flinched, then reached up slowly. Her fingers met something wet and warm.
She looked at her hand. Red. Bright, sharp, ugly red.
Her chest tightened. She hadn't even realized. It didn't hurt. Not really. Just a sting. But now the sight of it the proof of what happenedmade her head spin.
"I—I didn't mean to disappear," she whispered. "I thought I'd only wander a little…"
"What happened?" Nora asked under her breath, dabbing carefully. "I turned around and you were gone. I thought gods, I thought you went to the restroom, not out to bleed under some statue."
Amira gripped her wrist, gently but firmly. "Is… is there another prince? One with silver hair and…"
Nora froze.
Amira paused. "Is something wrong? Did I do something… bad?"
"You met him?" Nora's voice dropped. Her expression tightened. "Silver hair… Did he do this to you?"
"No—" she started, but even she didn't believe how her voice wobbled.
"Don't wander again," Nora warned, half-whispering, half-pleading. "You just met Prince—"
"Prince Zyran has arrived!" a loud voice rang out.
The hall hushed like someone had sucked the air out of it.
Everyone turned. Eyes fixed on the entrance. Amira's heart gave one hard thump.
She heard the sound first the click of sharp boots on marble. Each step unhurried. Controlled. A beat of war returning home.
Then she saw him.
He walked into the hall like he owned it. No like it owed him. Tall, built like a soldier carved from stone, silver hair glinting like a blade. His face unreadable. His presence almost too much even from far away, Amira felt it like cold water against her skin.
He bowed to the king and queen, then stood tall.
"Your Majesty," he said. "I have returned. The kingdom remains stable. We have emerged victorious."
A small part of her wanted to shrink into her seat. The voice it was the same. That man. That sword. That moment.
"Oh, my son, I expect no less," the king said, laughing.
Around him, others reacted. Lloyd, barely looking up from his wine. Novalie radiant, smiling, like she'd been waiting for him every hour. Katia unreadable, bored even.
Amira leaned toward Nora, whispering with a slight tremble. "That's Prince Zyran?"
But Nora was already bowing. Leaving her question to fall into silence.
Then, from the throne, the king raised his hand. "To honor your return, my son, I've chosen a wife for you."
Amira's mouth went dry. He gestured at her.
Her heart dropped to her stomach. She bit her lip, trying not to cry out. No, no. Not This...
Her legs didn't want to move. It felt like her whole body turned to stone. Her brain said walk, but her muscles didn't listen.
'He pointed a sword his sword at me and cut me enough to draw blood.' she thought to herself, her neck stung. She touched it without realizing.
She stood. Somehow. Moved toward the king. Somehow.
She couldn't breathe right. Every step echoed like thunder.
Zyran didn't blink. He Didn't flinch, heJust watched her, cold and still.
Why does he look at everyone like that? Like we're pawns. Like we're nothing.
The king smiled, showing her off like a prize. "Isn't she lovely? They wouldn't dare offer less."
Amira clenched her hands at her sides. Not a person. A trophy. Something polished and displayed.
"Come, son," the king said.
Zyran stepped forward. Silent. Like he wasn't even there emotionally.
The king took her hand. Zyran's.
Brought them together.
"Now you are man and wife. A bond for peace."
The room burst into applause.
Some women clapped with empty smiles. Others didn't even hide their jealousy. She felt every eye stabbing into her back.
---
That night, Amira sat alone on his bed.
Her knees drawn tight to her chest. Her fingers curled around the sheets. Her skin still cold. Her chest aching.
He hadn't come.
She was supposed to be married. Supposed to be with him. Like husbands and wives do.
Instead, she sat in a stranger's room her new husband's room waiting. Praying he didn't walk in. Praying he would.
Maybe he'll come in with a blade again. Maybe this time to finish it. Her thoughts tangled. She might not see tomorrow. She might not see tomorrow. She kept whispering it to herself like a broken prayer.
Her head drooped. Eyes heavy.
Sleep came only because her body gave up.
---
The morning came too soon.
Curtains pulled back. Harsh light. She winced.
Nora's voice reached her through the haze. "Morning, my lady. Breakfast is set. The king expects everyone."
Right.
She was in Oaken Vale now. A wife now. A symbol now.
Amira sat up slowly, groaning. Her neck screamed in protest she had slept curled weird, still in her bridal gown.
She looked at the bed. Still untouched on his side.
He didn't come.
She didn't know if she should feel lucky… or unwanted.
She sighed softly.
And rubbed her eyes, hoping today wouldn't be worse.