The heavy perfume of genetically engineered moon orchids, a cloying sweetness favored by the alchemically inclined aristocracy, hung in the air of the opulent wedding chamber within Prince Caspian's palace. The soft click of the heavy oak door closing echoed in the vast room, the hushed whispers of the maids fading into silence, leaving her alone with the blind prince.

She moved with a reluctant grace, a princess disliked by her parents and hated by her people due to her adoption as a baby and unclear origins. Her own king had betrothed her to this man, Prince Caspian, a prince from a great kingdom, yet often disregarded because of his blindness. Whatever the reason for this unwanted union, she was now here, in his wedding chamber.

Caspian sat on the edge of the large, four-poster bed, the rich velvet of his dark, alchemically dyed robe a stark contrast to the pale, intricate lace of his customary blindfold. He had been waiting, his heightened senses acutely aware of the subtle shift in the air pressure as the door opened, the faint rustle of her approach, and the delicate cadence of her footsteps on the enchanted carpet.

The lingering scent of unfamiliar spices, perhaps carried from her kingdom, mingled with the ozone of travel charms. He turned his head slightly in her direction, his covered eyes fixed on the space where he perceived her to be. After a moment of quiet anticipation, his voice, a calm, measured tone tinged with the elegant formality of his Victorian upbringing and the inherent mystique of his lineage, broke the silence. "Miss, may I call you 'My Wife '?" he said.