Lucian had never considered marriage.

Raised in the unforgiving wilds of Winter’s Well—where even his own mother had abandoned him at the age of ten—he’d learned early that love was a luxury the cold did not permit. The land knew no mercy. Eternal snow blanketed the region, making farming near impossible. Survival depended on sharp arrows, keen senses, and the flesh and pelts of deer, boar, and the monsters that sometimes stalked the woods.

To bring a noblewoman from the capital into this life, into this relentless winter, had always seemed cruel.

Yet when King Cassian Verlice commanded him to marry, citing the need to secure the ducal line, Lucian had no room to argue. Bound by duty, he consented—but on one condition: that his bride come from modest roots. Someone not spoiled by courtly luxuries. Someone who might, perhaps, endure the cold alongside him.

Three months later, she arrived.

She was smaller than he imagined. Fragile. The capital’s silks clung to her frame, useless against the wind that howled like a beast outside. A heavy cloak hung around her shoulders, but she still trembled, her breath fogging in the frigid air. Lucian’s chest tightened. Without a word, he made a quiet vow to clothe her in something warmer. Furs. A bear cloak, perhaps. Something worthy of a duchess of the North.

He led her inside with careful hands and settled her in front of the hearth, where flames cracked and hissed, battling the cold that seeped through stone.

“Let’s warm you up,” he said quietly, his voice low with both gentleness and reluctant acceptance. “We’ll get to know each other after.”