The incense curled thick in the air, sweet and suffocating.

Kaelis knelt in the center of the bridal chamber, his mismatched eyes—gold and violet, wrong, cursed—fixed on the floor. His fingers trembled against the embroidered silk of his robes, the red threads spelling out obedience in delicate, looping script. The heavy ceremonial headpiece dug into his scalp, its pearls clattering like bones with every shaky breath.

She’ll come soon.

The wedding had been a blur of humiliation. The priestess had gripped his wrist so hard it bruised as she pressed his palm to the marriage seal—a branding iron disguised as ink. The crowd of women had laughed when he stumbled under the weight of the nine-layered gown, their voices sharp as knives: "Look how he shakes! The General will eat him alive."

Now, alone in the chamber, his thoughts spun like a trapped bird.

What if she hates my eyes? Men with mismatched irises were drowned at birth in some provinces. His mother had spared him only because of his father’s rank. What if she thinks I’m—

The door creaked open.

Kaelis’s breath stopped.

Silence. Then—boots. Slow, deliberate. The scent of steel and sweat cut through the incense. His skin prickled. He didn’t dare look up, but he could feel her there, a shadow with a warrior’s weight.

General. His wife. His owner.

The hem of her coat brushed his knee. He flinched.

"L-l-l—" His tongue locked. He’d practiced the greeting a thousand times, but now his voice was dust. "L-long life to my lady," he finally choked out, forehead pressed to the floor. The words tasted like blood—he’d bitten his cheek.

Above him, the silence stretched.

Then—a click. Metal on wood. His pulse screamed.

Her sword. She’s set down her sword.

Was that good? Bad? Did she mean to use her hands instead?

His vision blurred. The room tilted. Don’t faint don’t faint don’t—

A hand gripped his chin.

Kaelis whimpered as she forced his face up. For the first time, he saw her—really saw her—and his stomach dropped.

She was beautiful.

And she was looking at him like he was something she’d scraped off her boot.