To wed a beast

The halls of my father's estate were silent, save for the sharp click of my heels against the polished marble floor. Every candle flickered against the grand stone walls, casting eerie shadows that stretched like ghosts in the dim corridor. I had been summoned.

His study loomed ahead, the heavy oak doors cracked open just enough to spill warm candlelight into the hallway. I pushed them open without hesitation.

Duke Eryx Caradine—my father—sat behind his massive desk, the weight of age and power settled on his broad shoulders. His graying hair was neatly combed back, his sharp blue eyes—so much like mine—impossible to read. The scent of parchment and wax filled the air, thick and suffocating.

"You sent for me, Father?" My voice was steady, but my fingers curled into fists at my sides.

He barely looked up from the sealed letter in his hands. "Vidalia, the time has come."

Dread pooled in my stomach. I already knew what he was going to say. I had known since the moment whispers of war reached our halls, since envoys from the royal court started visiting more frequently.

Still, I forced myself to ask, "Time for what?"

His gaze met mine, unwavering. "Your betrothal has been finalized. You are to marry Kyren Fernandez."

The words struck like a slap.

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Kyren Fernandez?" I repeated, tasting the bitterness on my tongue. "The 'Beast of Etril'? The man who slaughters his enemies without mercy?"

"The very same."

"You must be joking."

"I do not joke about matters of war, Vidalia." His tone was final, cold as steel. "The marriage has been arranged to solidify peace. You will be the Duchess of Etril, and one day, its queen."

I took a step back, as if distance could undo the decision. "And what of my own will?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "You are my daughter. Your duty is to the family. To our people."

Duty. The word had been drilled into me since childhood, but now, it felt like a curse.

I clenched my fists. "I refuse."

His voice hardened. "You have no choice."

A storm raged inside me, but I knew fighting this was pointless. My fate had been sealed long before today.

I lifted my chin, my voice laced with ice. "When do I leave?"

"Tomorrow."

I turned on my heel before he could see the fire burning in my eyes.

---

I didn't sleep that night.

Tyla found me at dawn, standing on my balcony, my fingers gripping the railing as I stared at the horizon. The morning sky was soft pink and gold, a cruel contrast to the war raging inside me.

"My lady…" Tyla's voice was hesitant.

I didn't turn around. "I suppose you already know."

She hesitated, then nodded. "The servants are talking."

I exhaled through my nose. "Tell me, Tyla. What do you think of my husband-to-be?"

She bit her lip. "They say he's a beast on the battlefield. That he does not hesitate to spill blood."

I arched a brow. "And off the battlefield?"

Silence.

I smirked. "That bad, is he?"

Tyla looked down. "He is feared, my lady."

Feared. The word settled uncomfortably in my chest.

I straightened, setting my jaw. "Then I shall not fear him."

---

The castle of Etril was as imposing as the man who ruled it.

The moment I stepped into the grand hall, I felt the weight of power pressing down on me. Thick banners of royal blue and gold draped from towering pillars, the crest of Etril—a silver dragon wrapped around a sword—etched into the stone above. Soldiers lined the walls, their armor gleaming under the candlelight.

And at the center of it all stood him.

Kyren Fernandez.

I had expected a brute—scarred, monstrous, terrifying. Instead, I found myself staring at a man who was dangerously handsome. Dark, tousled hair framed his sharp features, and his golden eyes held the kind of arrogance that made my blood boil.

He studied me for a long moment before speaking. "So," he drawled, as if he were bored, "this is the woman I am to marry."

I lifted my chin, keeping my voice even. "Disappointed?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but there was no warmth in it. "No. Amused."

I bristled but refused to let him see it. "I fail to see the humor in this arrangement."

"That's because you're not me." He stepped closer, his presence suffocating, and studied me like I was some puzzle to be solved. "Do you know what they call me, little rose?"

I met his gaze without flinching. "The Beast of Etril."

His smirk widened. "And does that frighten you?"

I took a deliberate step closer, refusing to back down. "Should it?"

Something flickered in his eyes—amusement, intrigue? I couldn't tell.

He leaned in, his voice a whisper against my ear. "We shall see."

I refused to shiver.

The wedding would take place in a week.

And in that time, I would learn how to tame a beast—or how to break him.