She kept her word. Part of him had expected that she would fight him, but instead she had done exactly as she had promised.
She had fire in her. It was a surprise. When he had discovered that the bride promised to the ruler of his country had beenspirited off to a convent, he had imagined someone pious. Quiet. Prayerful, even. She was not a nun; that much was certain.
Not that he knew anything of the faithful. He had no use for fantasies. No ingrained connection to some spirit in the sky that was supposed to offer health, safety and blessing.
He had never experienced it.
No. When he had been alone in his life, he had been alone. There had been no comforting presence. No divine comfort to be had.
Still, he had thought that it might be a good thing to have a bride who had a more tempered personality.
She was not the one. It was no matter, however, because what he had said to her was true. He did not care how long they remained married. Once he felt secure in his position. Once the trade routes were well established, and they proved to be beneficial to everyone, once he had signed long-standing military treaties, he would have no use for her. He could trade her in for a new wife.
This one could be like another adviser. Not a wife in truth.
He looked down at her as he opened the door to the car that was waiting for them. Her eyes met his, and he felt the impact of her gaze like a freight train driving straight through him.
Apparently his body appreciated the challenge.
It was very like him.
If he wasn’t fighting, he didn’t know who he was. So in many ways, it wasn’t a surprise that this woman who looked at him as if he was not great and terrifying, but was an obstacle to try to overcome, was appealing.
Most people found him frightening. For good reason.
He was barely more civilized than a wild animal. Than the wolves that had once famously roamed Asland. Women who were interested in him were often as hard as he was, experienced and jaded.
Princess Fernanda had a core of steel, but it was different.
She was not jaded.
She still believed that there was some measure of freedom out there for her to possess. Some great joy that she could find if only she were unfettered.
He knew that wasn’t the case.
Responsibility would always pull you back, and if you owed yourself to no one and nothing, then it was simply a black hole of nothingness.
No purpose. No point.
And yet she was beautiful.
“Get in the car,” he said. She obeyed, but she continued to look at him with those green eyes. He slammed the door shut, and got in on the other side.
“Shall we invite your family to the wedding, Fernanda?”
“Fern,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“I prefer to be called Fern. I don’t like my full name. It makes me think of my father being angry with me. It makes me think of my time in the palace. At the convent, I was just Fern. And that’s what I would like to be here.”
“Isn’t that a plant?” But as he said it, he thought that her eyes were rather that color. That cool green found in the depths of the forest. A plant that thrived even in darkness, even without the sun.
“Yes. And I have a greater connection to nature than I do to my family.”
“Queen Fern,” he said. “It does not have a particular ring to it.”
“All the better that it won’t be permanent.”
