The world tilted beneath me, spinning faster than the ballroom chandeliers. My pulse thundered, my breath caught, and all I could see was his grin — wicked, unrelenting, delighted in my shock.
'Cat got your tongue?' Darian Treotor tugged me flush against him, ignoring the scandalised gasps around us. 'Or should I start drafting wedding invitations with "Her Royal Highness, the Terrible Liar Who Stole My Heart, and Almost My Jewel"?'
'Y-You're a lunatic!' I stumbled back a step, but he closed the distance easily, smirk widening like he enjoyed the chase.
'And you're a thief. A terrible liar. And—my personal favourite—a terribly cute blusher. Balance, darling. That's what makes a good marriage.'
His breath ghosted my ear, voice silk and steel.
'Crown prince or not, I get what I want.'
An arm locked around my waist, pulling me tight against his chest. His hand tilted my chin up, thumb brushing my lip as if I were a prize he owned.
'So fight it all you like. In the end… you'll be my bride. Mine. Forever.'
Then, I did the only thing my panicked brain offered: I bit him. Hard. Then bolted.
For a heartbeat, he just stared at his hand, stunned.
'…Did you just—?' His eyes flicked up, catching me weaving through startled nobles. A laugh burst from him, sharp and incredulous. 'Bloody hell. That's a first.'
Then his smirk returned, dangerous and amused.
'Guards! Seize that woman! And try not to get bitten.'
Moments later, I dangled mid‑air in the grip of two guards, feet kicking uselessly. The ballroom watched in horrified fascination. Darian loomed over me, smug as ever, and flicked my forehead.
'Honestly,' he sighed, 'for someone who planned a jewel heist at my coronation, you're terrible at running away.'
He grinned. 'So. Shall we revisit my offer? Or do I carry you off in front of all these witnesses?'
'Give me one reason why I'd marry you.'
He blinked, then laughed so loud it echoed off the vaulted ceilings. 'Oh, I adore you.' His voice dropped to a whisper at my ear. 'Because no one else would dare bite a crown prince and live to tell the tale. And because, my darling thief… you'd look divine in a crown. Also? You're stuck. My guards are still holding you. So, yes or yes?'
…And so there I was, betrothed to the crown prince.
He gestured for the guards to set me down, still grinning like he'd won the greatest game of his life. Tilting my chin once more, he murmured against my ear:
'You bite like a kitten. Do it again, and I'll bite back.'
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Nobles looked ready to faint, courtiers pale as death. Darian, unfazed, kissed my knuckles like the perfect gentleman.
___
I was given a chamber of my own, guards stationed outside to keep me from escaping. Sora, assigned as my lady‑in‑waiting, wasted no time bursting in.
'I can't believe it,' she hissed, pacing before collapsing onto my bed. 'You bit Darian Treotor. How are you not beheaded?'
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. 'Sora, what do I do?'
She ticked options off on her fingers.
'One, escape — terrible idea. Two, marry him — not the worst deal, even if he's an arrogant peacock. Three… we fake your death. Though that might involve fire, and you know how I feel about arson.'
I shot her a look. 'Sora, I hate fire. That's not happening.'
She winced, raising her hands. 'Okay, okay. Option three is off the table. But listen — don't even try escaping. The castle's a fortress. He'll find you.'
I groaned. 'So what? I just marry him?'
Her lips curved into a mischievous grin. She leaned closer, eyes sparkling.
'Not exactly. I've got a new idea. Much better than option three. And much more fun.'
'…Which is?'
Her smirk promised brilliance and disaster all at once. 'Sabotage. Make him hate you so much he calls off the wedding himself.'
My eyes lit up. 'Sora, you're a genius. I love you!'
She laughed, wicked delight bubbling out. 'Step one: figure out what drives him crazy. Push his buttons until he regrets ever calling you his bride. Oh, and do it without getting beheaded.'
Then her grin faltered. 'Also, there's something else you should know about. A rumour.'
I frowned. 'What rumour?'
Sora sighed. 'He's not exactly faithful. In fact, he's infamous. The Countess of Veylora, the ambassador's daughter from Delmaria, Lady Brenette… his flings are the stuff of legends.'
My jaw clenched. Not that I cared for him — saints forbid — but how dare he even think to marry me with such a scandalous, lowly attitude? Every woman despises an unfaithful man, whether he's hers or not.
'Oh, that little— I won't be marrying someone like that!'
Sora grinned knowingly. 'Good. Imagine becoming his next conquest. Sabotage is our best bet then.'
I smirked. 'Yup. Let the game begin.'