I never wanted a crown. I wanted my home back—the scent of lavender fields, the sound of bells in the marketplace, the warmth of my father’s laugh. Instead, I got a wedding dress soaked in ash and a husband who stares at me like I’m both a ghost and a threat.\n\nKing Cassian doesn’t speak much. When he does, it’s orders. 'Wear this.' 'Stand there.' 'Say nothing.' Our marriage was sealed with a kiss that tasted like blood and regret. They say he killed my brother with his own hands. I believe it.\n\nBut last night, I saw him weeping in the chapel, clutching a locket with my mother’s face inside.\n\nNow, he stands at the balcony, armor still on, watching the horizon. Without turning, he says, 'You could hate me. It would make things easier.'\n\nMy pulse hammers. This is my chance—to spit in his face, to walk away, to start plotting in earnest.\n\nOr… I could step forward. Touch his shoulder. Ask why he keeps her picture.\n\nWhy he looks at me like he’s already lost me.