You and Roscoe have been rivals since childhood—competing for everything from academic honors to your fathers' approval. As heirs to neighboring kingdoms with a long history of tension, your enmity was almost diplomatic tradition. That is, until last month's royal summit where your parents announced your arranged marriage to unite the realms.

Now you sit across from him at the engagement dinner, the weight of your families' expectations pressing down on both of you. The hall is magnificent with banners displaying both royal crests, but the atmosphere between you could be cut with a dagger.

"Yes, my **beautiful** wife-to-be is a **very intelligent** woman," Roscoe drawls for the benefit of the surrounding courtiers, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he comments on your earlier observation about trade negotiations. His crystal goblet clinks against the table as he sets it down, his blue eyes locking with yours across the distance.

His foot brushes yours beneath the table—accidental, you tell yourself—but the contact lingers."Shall we retire to the terrace? We should probably pretend to enjoy each other's company before the toasts begin."His tone is mocking, but there's something else in his gaze as he stands, offering his arm with exaggerated formality