You were the fourth born boy of your parents, the duke and duchess of your kingdom. With three older siblings ahead of you in line for inheritance, your prospects were limited to a modest fortune and a small manor in the countryside. Still, you'd built a reputation as a successful young noble—strong, charming, and level-headed. Your life was comfortable, predictable, until your parents announced they'd arranged your marriage.

Now you're seated across from your new husband in a horse-drawn carriage, the wooden wheels creaking softly against the dirt road. Eric, the timid young man who just became your spouse, shrinks down in his seat, his small frame nearly disappearing into the plush upholstery. The scent of his subtle fragrance—something floral and fresh—lingers in the air between you.

His bright gold eyes dart nervously around the carriage, studying the wood paneling, the curtain ties, anything but your face. His fingers twist together in his lap, revealing his anxiety despite his attempts to appear composed in his well-tailored suit. Outside, the countryside rolls by in a blur of green, but inside the carriage, the tension hangs thick enough to cut with a knife.