Aria's POV
Bride?
The word comes out of my mouth like a gasp. My brain can't make sense of it. The Duke's smile grows wider, and I know absolutely know this is a trap.
But before I can say anything else, the soldiers grab my arms and drag me backward out of the throne room. I try to pull away, but I'm too weak. Three days without food or water has left me with no strength to fight.
Wait please I don't understand
Nobody listens. They never do.
They pull me through hallways I've scrubbed a thousand times as a servant. But everything looks wrong now. Broken glass crunches under my feet. Tapestries hang torn and burned. Bodies of palace guards lie crumpled in corners, their eyes staring at nothing.
The Northern Warlord did this. In just one morning, he destroyed the entire kingdom.
And now the Duke wants me to marry him?
Why?
The soldiers shove me through a door into one of the guest chambers. Five servant women wait inside, their faces pale and frightened. I recognize two of them Marta and Elise, women who used to order me around when I worked in the kitchens.
Now they look at me with something like pity.
Clean her up, says a cold voice behind me.
I spin around. Duke Malachai Thorne stands in the doorway, tall and thin like a skeleton in expensive clothes. His eyes are dark and empty. I've always been terrified of him, even more than I was scared of Princess Celeste.
The Duke has power. Real power. And he's never been kind.
You have one hour, he tells the servants. Then his eyes slide to me. Make her presentable.
He leaves, and the door slams shut.
For a moment, nobody moves. Then Marta steps forward.
Come here, child, she says softly. Let's get you cleaned up.
I don't understand, I whisper. What's happening? Why did the Duke say bride?
Marta and Elise exchange looks. Finally, Elise speaks.
The Warlord demanded a bride, she says quietly, already unlacing my torn, bloody dress. A noblewoman from Valdris to seal the peace treaty. But all the noble families fled yesterday when they heard the palace was falling.
My stomach drops. So they're using me instead?
You're the only woman left in the palace who's young enough, Marta says. She peels the ruined dress off my back, and I hear her sharp intake of breath when she sees my whip marks.
Sweet mercy, Elise whispers. Who did this to you?
Princess Celeste, I say flatly. Three days ago. She said I stole her necklace.
That spoiled little Marta cuts herself off. Never mind. Come on, into the bath.
They lead me to a copper tub filled with warm water. I want to resist, want to run, but where would I go? The palace is full of Northern soldiers. The city is conquered. I have nowhere to run.
I sink into the water, and despite everything, it feels like heaven. Warm. Clean.
The women scrub me with soap that smells like roses expensive soap, the kind I've never been allowed to use. They wash the dirt and blood from my skin, from my hair. They're gentle with my back, careful around the whip marks.
This is insane, I say as they rinse my hair. I'm a servant. The Warlord will know immediately. He'll kill me when he finds out.
Maybe, Marta says. Or maybe he won't care.
How could he not care?
Elise helps me out of the tub and wraps me in a soft towel. The Warlord conquered the entire kingdom in three months, child. Do you really think he cares about noble bloodlines?
I want to argue, but I can't. She's right. If the Warlord wanted a real noble bride, he could have taken one from any of the cities he conquered.
So why does he want one from Valdris?
The women sit me down and start working on my hair, brushing out the tangles. It hurts, but I stay quiet. I've learned to be quiet when things hurt.
What's he like? I ask suddenly. The Warlord. Is he really a monster?
The room goes silent. The women exchange nervous glances.
We don't know, Marta finally says. We haven't seen him up close. But the soldiers... She hesitates. They say he's never lost a battle. They say he's completely ruthless. They say he killed the king with his own hands.
My chest feels tight. I'm going to marry a man who kills kings.
Elise opens a large chest and pulls out a dress a wedding dress. It's beautiful, all white silk and lace, with tiny pearls sewn into the bodice.
This was meant for Princess Celeste, Elise says quietly. For when she married the Prince of Asteria. But that wedding never happened, and now...
Now I'm wearing her dress to marry a conqueror.
The irony would be funny if I wasn't so terrified.
They help me into the dress. It's too big Celeste is taller than me, curvier. The women pin and tuck, trying to make it fit. They braid flowers into my hair. They pinch my cheeks to give them color.
When they turn me toward the mirror, I don't recognize myself.
The girl in the reflection looks like a bride. She looks almost pretty, with her clean hair and fancy dress.
But her eyes are terrified.
What if I run? I whisper.
Marta puts a hand on my shoulder. Then the Warlord will be angry. And when men like him get angry, people die. A lot of people.
But I'm nobody, I say desperately. I'm just a servant. Why would he want
The door slams open.
Duke Malachai strides in, and his smile makes my skin crawl.
Perfect, he says, looking me up and down like I'm a horse he's selling. You'll do nicely.
Duke Malachai, please, I beg. I don't understand. Why me? I'm not
You're exactly what you need to be, he interrupts. His voice is cold. The Warlord asked for a bride. We're giving him one.
But I'm a servant!
Which makes you replaceable, the Duke says with that horrible smile. If the Warlord doesn't like you, well... we haven't lost anything important, have we?
The words hit me like a slap. I've always known I was worthless to the nobles. But hearing it said so plainly still hurts.
Guards appear in the doorway. The Duke nods to them.
Take her to the throne room. It's time.
The guards grab my arms. The servant women look away, unable to meet my eyes. The Duke walks ahead of us, humming softly like this is a pleasant afternoon.
They drag me through the palace. My heart pounds so hard I think it might burst. My hands shake. The too-big dress drags on the floor.
We turn a corner, and I see them the massive throne room doors, carved with dragons and crowns. They're stained with blood now, and dented from battle axes.
Northern soldiers stand on either side, holding spears.
Beyond those doors is the Warlord. The monster. The man I'm supposed to marry.
I can't do this, I whisper.
Nobody answers.
The Duke raises his hand. Open the doors.
The soldiers push, and the huge doors swing wide.
The throne room is packed with Northern soldiers, all wearing black armor. They part like a dark sea as the guards drag me forward.
And there, sitting on Valdris's throne like he owns it because he does now is the Warlord.
He's younger than I expected. Maybe thirty. Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a face that might be handsome if it wasn't so cold. He wears black armor with a silver wolf on the chest, and a sword rests across his knees.
But it's his eyes that freeze me in place.
Ice blue. Sharp as winter. Looking directly at me.
The guards force me to kneel. The marble floor is cold and hard against my knees.
Lord Kassian Volkov, Duke Malachai says smoothly, bowing. May I present your bride, as requested. Lady Aria of House... He pauses, then smiles. My apologies. Lady Aria has no house. She is... unattached.
Murmurs ripple through the Northern soldiers. The WarlordKassiandoesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just stares at me with those terrible blue eyes.
I can't breathe. Can't think.
Then Kassian stands. He's huge, at least six and a half feet tall. He walks down the throne steps slowly, boots echoing on marble.
He stops right in front of me.
I force myself to look up at him. Up close, I can see a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. Can see that his jaw is clenched tight, like he's angry.
Stand up, he says.
His voice is deep. Cold. Commanding.
Somehow, I get to my feet. My legs shake so badly I almost fall.
Kassian looks me overmy too-big dress, my braided hair, my terrified face. His expression doesn't change.
This is your diplomatic offering? he asks the Duke. His tone is arctic. A half-starved girl in a borrowed dress?
She is a willing bride, my lord, the Duke says. A gesture of goodwill to seal the peace between our kingdoms.
I didn't ask for a bride, Kassian says flatly. I asked for Valdris's surrender.
My heart leaps. He doesn't want me. He'll refuse. I'll be free
However, Kassian continues, and my hope dies. A political marriage does have advantages.
No. No, please, no.
Kassian's ice-blue eyes lock onto mine. For just a second, I think I see something in themnot cruelty, but something else. Exhaustion, maybe. Or disgust. But not at me.
At the situation.
What's your name? he asks me directly.
My mouth is so dry I can barely speak. Aria.
Just Aria?
Just Aria, I whisper. I'm... I'm a servant, my lord. I have no family name. I'm sorry.
The throne room goes completely silent. Every soldier, every guard, every person stares.
The Duke's face flashes with anger for just a second before his smile returns. A minor detail, my lord. Surely
You're giving me a servant? Kassian's voice could cut glass. You're trying to pass off a servant as a noble bride?
I close my eyes, waiting for his rage. Waiting for him to order my execution for this insult.
But instead, Kassian does something I never expected.
He laughs.
It's not a happy laugh. It's bitter and sharp. But it's a laugh.
A servant, he says again, shaking his head. After three months of war, after thousands of deaths, after I've conquered your entire kingdomyou offer me a servant girl and call it diplomacy.
The Duke's smile is frozen on his face now. My lord, I assure you, we can find someone more suitable
No.
Everyone freezes.
Kassian looks at me again, and this time I definitely see itnot anger, but something almost like respect. Or maybe pity.
I accept, he says clearly, his voice carrying through the silent throne room.
My heart stops.
We marry at dawn, Kassian announces. Prepare the ceremony.
And as the words sink in, as I realize what just happened, Kassian leans down slightly and speaks so only I can hear:
I'm sorry.
Then he turns and walks back to his throne, leaving me standing there in my borrowed dress, about to marry a monster who just apologized to me.