Meredith could barely stand to look at her reflection. The crown pressed into her scalp, heavy as a shackle. Her eyes, though lined with kohl, betrayed the storm behind them. She was supposed to be radiant, the new queen of a fractured kingdom—but inside, she was still Meredith, the girl who had been practicing cheer routines two days ago, not wielding daggers in a hall of stone.
She pressed the blade her "father" had given her against her palm. Murder your husband, he said. End this threat before it consumes us. Her hand shook violently. She wasn't a killer. She wasn't even a princess. She was a stranger in this body, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn't fill its shape.
When Kael entered, she nearly sobbed with relief. His presence was a reminder that she wasn't entirely alone in this charade. He stood tall, scarred, the mask gone but his gaze unreadable. She broke before him, the words spilling like blood from an open wound.
"I don't care about thrones, or crowns, or kingdoms," she said, voice trembling. "I don't care about your war, or my father's war, or any of this. I just… I just want to go home."
Her confession hung in the air. Kael's brow furrowed faintly.
"Home?" His voice was measured, careful. "But this is your home."
Meredith shook her head violently, tears breaking free. "No, you don't understand. I don't belong here. I was never meant to be this person. I—" She stopped herself, choking back the truth, the impossible story of waking up in another body. Instead, she whispered, "I just want out."
For the first time since their wedding, Kael's shoulders eased. The tension that had wound him tight seemed to drain away. She wasn't challenging him, wasn't defying him with demands or threats. She was broken, desperate. And in that, she was pliable.
He knelt before her, taking her hands into his, warm and calloused. "Then let me carry the weight for you," he said softly. His voice was a balm, his expression a mask of gentleness. "You are mine now. If you cannot bear this world, then let me bear it for us both."
Meredith's tears flowed harder, but she leaned into him, believing him. Grateful. For a moment, she let herself trust.
Inside, Kael's mind sharpened like steel. She wants escape? Good. Let her. The more she yields, the more she needs me. A queen who bends is a queen who legitimizes my claim. Her father was never going to allow this union to last. He struck the first blow when he placed a dagger in her hand. He made his choice. And I will make mine.
He held her close, murmuring comfort, even as his thoughts marched elsewhere. She would not see the calculation in his eyes, the cold arithmetic of survival. She would only see the man who had rescued her from goblins and fire, the man who promised to carry her burdens.
When she lifted her lips to his, it wasn't resistance he met. It was surrender.
And when she let him into her bed, it wasn't out of duty, but relief—a way to silence the noise of a world she could not control. He was steady, unyielding, and for one fleeting night, she clung to him like an anchor.
The dagger lay forgotten, cold on the floor.
She woke at dawn to the toll of the gong.
It was not a sound of celebration, but of mourning.
Her body stiffened, her mind racing. The gong only sounded for death—the death of one of the royal bloodline. She looked beside her. Kael still slept, his breathing deep, steady. Alive.
Her trembling hand rose to her chest. She was alive too. That left only one possibility.
Her father.
The king was dead.
And as Meredith stared at the man beside her, warmth still on her skin from his touch, fear clawed its way up her throat. The timing was too perfect. The dagger in her possession, the silence of Kael's embrace, his careful words.
He hadn't needed her to kill her father. He had already done what was necessary.
And now, Meredith realized, she was his crown.