Finally, they reached Lyst Castle without any hardships encountering them along the way. The towering stone walls stood firm against the morning light, and the banners of House Lyst fluttered gently in the cool breeze. As the carriage rolled to a stop in the courtyard, the heavy wooden gates creaked open to reveal Lord Gruhl standing at the entrance, his aging face alight with joy.
The moment Ingrid stepped out of the carriage, her emerald-green eyes shimmered with emotion. She hardly hesitated before gathering her skirts and rushing toward her father, throwing her arms around him. "Father, it's been too long. I've missed you so much."
Lord Gruhl let out a deep, satisfied sigh, his tired hands wrapping around her in a firm but warm embrace. "Oh, my dear daughter." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his eyes crinkling with happiness. "You have grown even more beautiful than I remember."
Belin dismounted his horse, watching the reunion with silent curiosity. The sight of them—father and daughter, wrapped in warmth and love—stirred something foreign in his chest. He had expected a girl who would be meek, foolish, or perhaps even spoiled. Instead, Ingrid carried herself with grace, confidence, and an undeniable presence. She was nothing like the whispers he had heard.
Lord Gruhl turned his attention to Belin, his smile dimming slightly as responsibility settled upon his shoulders once more. "Come," he said, gesturing toward the grand entrance of the castle. "Let's take this reunion inside."
As they entered the great hall, servants hurried about, setting out trays of fresh bread, roasted meats, and warm cider. The castle had been prepared for Ingrid's return, and the warmth of the hearth only added to the sense of homecoming.
Ingrid removed her traveling cloak, revealing the fine embroidery of her satin gown. She glanced around the hall, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "It feels strange to be home after so long."
"You are home now," Lord Gruhl assured her. "And soon, you will begin a new chapter of your life." He cast a glance at Belin, and the prince stiffened slightly.
Ingrid followed her father's gaze, then turned her attention back to Belin. "Yes, I suppose so." Her tone was careful, measured.
Belin straightened. "I hope to prove myself worthy of you, my lady."
She studied him for a moment before nodding. "Then I shall look forward to knowing you better, my lord."
Lord Gruhl clapped his hands together, signaling for the servants to clear the table. "Come, let us discuss the wedding arrangements. We have little time to waste."
Ingrid's smile faded slightly. "The wedding?"
"Yes, my dear," Lord Gruhl said, taking his seat at the head of the table. "You and Belin shall be wed in two days."
A flicker of surprise crossed Ingrid's face. "So soon?"
Belin clenched his jaw. He had anticipated this conversation, but something about the uncertainty in Ingrid's voice made his stomach twist. He was a prince, used to duty and expectation, but marrying a woman he had only just met still felt unsettling.
"We must act swiftly," Lord Gruhl continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Belin is still in hiding. The assassins hunting him could strike at any moment. A grand celebration would draw too much attention. For his safety, and yours, the wedding will be a quiet affair, attended only by those within the castle walls."
Ingrid exhaled, her fingers lightly brushing over the wooden table. "I understand, Father. But I had hoped for—" she hesitated, then shook her head. "Never mind. If this is what must be done, then so be it."
Belin watched her closely. Had she hoped for a grand wedding? A moment to celebrate properly? He had never given much thought to weddings—his life had always been about duty, battle, and strategy. But Ingrid… she was different. Perhaps she had dreamed of something more.
"I assure you, Lady Ingrid," he said after a pause, "though the ceremony will be small, I will do my best to honor you."
Her gaze met his, searching for something in his words. After a moment, she nodded. "That is all I ask."
Lord Gruhl cleared his throat. "Then it is settled. Leofrey, see to it that the chapel is prepared. The seamstress shall begin adjustments on Ingrid's gown. And Belin—" he turned to the prince, his eyes sharp, "—your role is simple. Stay alive."
Belin smirked slightly. "I shall do my best."
Ingrid glanced between them. "You truly are being hunted?"
Belin met her eyes. "Yes."
A shadow crossed her face. "Then this is more than just a political alliance. Marrying you means sharing in your dangers."
"It does," he admitted.
She exhaled slowly. "Then I must prepare myself for what is to come."
Lord Gruhl smiled at her, pride gleaming in his gaze. "You are stronger than you know, my dear."
Ingrid straightened her shoulders, her expression settling into quiet determination. "I will not let fear guide me."
Belin studied her once more, his gaze lingering on every detail—the quiet confidence in her posture, the unwavering steadiness of her green eyes. There was no trace of weakness, no hint of the timid, simple girl he had been led to expect. Instead, there was certainty in the way she carried herself, a quiet strength that neither flaunted nor wavered. She did not shrink beneath his gaze, nor did she avert her eyes like a woman unsure of her place. She met him head-on, unyielding.
A slow realization settled over him. She was not the woman he had imagined, not the naive, fragile bride-to-be he had resigned himself to. No, Ingrid was something else entirely, something unexpected. And perhaps, just perhaps, she was exactly what he needed.
As the meeting concluded, the castle's halls buzzed with preparations. Servants moved swiftly, tailors were summoned, and the chapel was readied for the intimate ceremony. Belin withdrew to his chambers, but sleep did not come easily. His thoughts lingered on Ingrid—the mystery she carried, the strength in her voice, the way she had met his gaze without flinching.
Two days. In two days, she would be his wife.
For the first time in a long while, Belin wondered if fate had played a hand in all of this. And for the first time, he found himself not dreading, but anticipating what was to come.