KAEL
The room was dimly lit by the glow of candles, their light dancing across the opulent bedchamber. It was a room that symbolized wealth and power, but to me, it was just another battlefield—one where tradition dictated my next move.
Elyra stood near the bed, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. She was still dressed in her wedding gown, her cheeks flushed, her eyes avoiding mine. I closed the door behind me, the sound echoing in the stillness.
"You understand what is required of us," I said, my tone flat.
She nodded but said nothing.
The tradition was barbaric, a relic of a kingdom obsessed with control and appearances. If a bride's virginity was not proven, she would be deemed unworthy, stripped of her status, and thrown into servitude. For most, it was a humiliation; for me, it was another reminder of the cage I was born into.
I approached her slowly, my steps measured. "Elyra," I said, my voice softer now. "This isn't about you or me. It's about them."
She raised her eyes to meet mine, and for a moment, I saw defiance there. "I understand," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
Without another word, I began to remove my ceremonial jacket, unbuckling the heavy armor-like pieces that had adorned me earlier. She watched, her expression a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.
"You can undress," I said simply, my gaze never wavering from hers.
Her fingers fumbled with the ties of her gown, and I saw her hesitation. I stepped closer, placing my hands over hers. "Let me," I said.
Elyra's breath hitched as I carefully loosened the intricate laces and slipped the gown from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in a thin shift. The candlelight highlighted the soft curves of her body, and I noted the way her chest rose and fell with each nervous breath.
I lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her to look at me. "Do not fear me," I said.
---
ELYRA
His hands were surprisingly gentle, despite the coldness in his voice. He was a man of contradictions—his presence commanded fear, yet his touch was careful, deliberate.
I felt exposed, vulnerable, but there was also something reassuring in the way he carried himself. He wasn't cruel, not like I had feared.
"I don't," I whispered, though my heart raced wildly in my chest.
Kael stepped back briefly, pulling his own shirt over his head. His body was a tapestry of scars, each one telling a story of battles won. He was intimidating, a warrior in every sense, but there was also a quiet strength in him that made me feel oddly safe.
When he moved toward me again, his hands slid up my arms, tracing a path to my shoulders. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "This is just a duty," he murmured. "But I will make it painless."
---
KAEL
Elyra trembled beneath me as I guided her to the bed. The act itself was clinical, a means to an end. I didn't approach it with passion—such feelings were foreign to me—but I ensured that she was comfortable, that her fears were eased.
She was tense at first, her body stiff under mine, but I whispered assurances, keeping my movements slow, deliberate. When it was done, I rolled away, standing to retrieve the ceremonial cloth. Tradition demanded proof, and I hated it.
I handed the cloth to the servant waiting outside the door, my expression unchanging as he nodded and departed. The kingdom would have its proof.
I turned back to Elyra, who was sitting up now, clutching the sheets to her chest. Her eyes were glassy, her expression unreadable.
"I leave at dawn," I said abruptly.
Her brows furrowed. "Leave? But we just—"
"I've been given a mission," I interrupted, my tone final. "I'll be gone for an indefinite period."
She opened her mouth to protest, but I held up a hand. "Listen to me, Elyra. Alric will not touch you. I've laid my claim on you, and he would not dare challenge me directly. You are mine now, and that means you are safe."
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came.
"I don't expect you to understand," I continued, turning away to gather my belongings. "But this is the way it must be."
---
ELYRA
Kael's words were cold, calculated. I watched as he prepared to leave, his movements efficient, as though he was packing for another battle rather than walking away from his new wife.
When he finally left the room, I felt an ache in my chest—a strange, unfamiliar sensation. I didn't know this man, but his departure felt like a loss, like something breaking before it had even begun.
I called for my maid, Nyssa, who had accompanied me from my home. When she entered, her expression shifted from curiosity to concern.
"What is it, my lady?" she asked.
"He's leaving," I said, my voice trembling. "He's going to war, and I don't think he plans to return."
Nyssa's face softened, and she sat beside me, placing a comforting hand on mine. "He's strong," she said gently. "If anyone can survive, it's him."
I wanted to believe her, but the pit in my stomach remained. Kael was an enigma—a man cursed, distant, and cold—but he was still my husband. And now, he was walking into the jaws of death.