"Duty can bind two kingdoms, but it cannot force two hearts."
The dining hall Seraphine had chosen was far too intimate for my liking. A private chamber, walls draped in golden light, a single velvet-draped table stretched between us as though mocking the space it pretended to fill. The air was heavy with roses, candle wax, and the faint sourness of spoiled wine. Shadows clung to the carved beams overhead, as if even they disapproved of the game she meant to play. The moment I entered, Vayne growled low in my head, his voice a guttural scrape of warning. "She reeks of desperation and is cloaked in roses and greed."
I bit back the smirk tugging at my lips and dipped into a polite bow. "Luna Seraphine," I said smoothly, every inch the King she expected to see. "You've outdone yourself."
Her smile bloomed like a thorned rose. Scarlet silk draped her frame, neckline plunging deep enough to broadcast her intentions without a word. Jewels glittered at her ears and throat, but none of it unsettled me half so much as her eyes, sharp, hungry, watching me as though I had already caught prey.
"Your Majesty," she purred, gesturing for me to sit. "I wanted us to share a private moment away from the council. Away from… prying eyes."
Vayne's disgust rippled again, sharp as claws against the back of my mind. "If she keeps looking at us like that, I swear I will seize your body and throw us both out the nearest window."
I hid my amusement in the rim of my wine glass. "Thoughtful," I murmured, keeping my tone neutral as I did not want to lead her on, or even give her the hope that I was here to entertain whatever she had in mind. The first course arrived, steaming venison laid over spiced roots, a dark wine poured with theatrical flourish. I carved my portion with deliberate precision, posture immaculate, expression unreadable. Years of council chambers and court theatrics had trained me well.
For the first half of the meal, Seraphine played the part of a dutiful Luna-in-waiting. She spoke of prosperity, of alliances, of the council's unease with recent border skirmishes. I nodded where appropriate, offered measured commentary, and drained my glass when silences stretched too long. But beneath her civility, I could feel its impatience coiled like a snake ready to strike. Every glance lingered too long, and every pause between her words dripped with intent, like she had rehearsed everything before coming. Every lean forward pressed her perfume deeper into my lungs until I longed for clean air, and I wondered how everyone was able to stand her.
And then, finally, she cut the pretense, and the mast fell off her face. "Alaric," she said, voice low, sultry, leaning close enough that her perfume burned like smoke in my nose. "We are soon to be bound. Why wait? Why not share a night before the vows?"
The wine betrayed me, sliding down the wrong way, choking me with brutal efficiency. I spluttered, coughed so hard I nearly toppled backward in my chair, one hand braced against the table for balance as I had never expected her to be so foward.
Vayne cackled inside me, his laughter unhinged. "Brilliant. Truly majestic. The mighty King of the North, slain not by blade, but by cheap seduction and a gulp of wine."
I wiped my mouth, choking back both the cough and the incredulous laugh bubbling in my chest. "Forgive me," I managed hoarsely. "But the Northern custom dictates such matters are reserved for after the marriage."
Her eyes narrowed, lips curling in a smile she must have thought sultry, but which stank of calculation. "Custom can be bent," she said silkily. "Surely a King may take what is already his?"
Or spit it back out, Vayne muttered.
I set my glass down carefully, though my grip was tighter than I liked. "Custom is not merely tradition, Luna. It is the law. And I am a man who follows the old ways."
For a moment, her mask slipped, frustration gleaming sharp as glass. "Then let us move the wedding forward," she said, tone sharper now, less honey, more steel. "Why drag this out?"
The scrape of my chair against stone was louder than intended, but I rose before she could press further. My patience had limits, and she had tested them.
"No," I said, voice even but edged. "The wedding will remain as planned, and it will not be rushed."
Her composure cracked. The wine glass in her hand slammed against the table, spilling crimson across velvet like a fresh wound. Her eyes blazed. "You do not wish to marry me at all, do you?"
The chamber seemed to still, candles guttering as though the air itself recoiled from her fury. Yet I met her gaze with the cold steadiness of a man who had stood through worse storms than her tantrum.
"This marriage," I said, each word deliberate, unflinching, "was arranged for alliance. For the stability of our kingdoms. I will honor it as such. But do not mistake duty for affection. You will have my loyalty, Luna Seraphine. But you will not have what is not yours to claim.
Her chest heaved, rage and humiliation painting her cheeks crimson. The roses in her perfume turned bitter in the air. The silence stretched, a fragile thread ready to snap. Vayne's voice slid softly and smugly through my mind. "That should shut her up. Though I must say, you handled that better than expected. Except for the choking part, that was pathetic."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at my wolf. Instead, I inclined my head stiffly, the bow of one ruler to another. "Good evening, Luna. I trust you will excuse me as I retired into my chambers. "
And without waiting for her dismissal, I turned on my heel and strode from the chamber. Her fury burned against my back like a curse, but I did not look back. Duty demanded I wed her. But no law, no council, and no crown could force me to give her my heart.