BETROTHED TO THE ARROGANT PRINCE -HIS UNTAMED WARRIOR QUEEN

✷✷✷SILVARA✷✷⁠✷

"Absolutely not."

Princess Adrienne didn't bother looking up from the blade she was sharpening, the whetstone singing against steel in steady, furious strokes. The late afternoon sun slanted through the armory windows, catching on metal and dust motes, but she kept her focus on the sword. Anything to avoid looking at her father's face.

"Adrienne…"

"I said no." The blade gleamed as she lifted it, examining the edge with a critical eye. Perfect. Sharp enough to split a hair. Sharp enough to cut through whatever ridiculous notion her father had brought into her sanctuary this time. "I'm not attending another gods-damned ball, I'm not entertaining some visiting lord's son, and I'm certainly not…"

"You're getting married."

The words landed like a blade between her ribs.

Adrienne's hand stilled. Slowly…so slowly she lowered the sword and finally met her father's gaze. King Aldric stood in the doorway of the armory, looking every one of his sixty years. The afternoon light was unkind to him, highlighting the gray in his beard, the deep lines carved around his eyes, the slight tremor in his hands he thought she hadn't noticed.

He looked tired, he looked old and he certainly looked like a man who'd already made up his mind.

"Say that again." Her voice came out deadly quiet, the calm before a storm. "Because I'm quite certain I misheard you.”

Aldric stepped further into the armory, his boots heavy on the stone floor. "You heard me perfectly well."

"Then you've lost your mind." Adrienne set the sword down with deliberate care, though every muscle in her body screamed to hurl it across the room. She stood, her leather trousers and simple tunic streaked with oil and sweat. No silks. No jewels. Nothing that marked her as anything but what she was, a knight. "I'm not some broodmare to be sold off."

"You're my daughter. My only child. My heir."

"Exactly." She crossed her arms, chin lifted. "Which means Silvara needs me here fighting and leading. Not locked away in some foreign castle playing the dutiful wife."

"Silvara needs you alive." Her father's voice cracked, just slightly, and she hated the sound of it. She hated the fear beneath his words.

"Three kingdoms have fallen in as many months, Adrienne. Kingdoms without strong alliances. Without heirs who can defend them."

"I can defend us…"

"Against how many armies?" Aldric's shout echoed off the stone walls, startling them both into silence. He took a breath, steadying himself. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. Resigned. "I'm old, my girl. I can't ride into battle anymore. I can't protect you and I won't watch you die like…"

"Don't." The word came out sharp as the blade at her side. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."

Her mother's ghost hung between them, unspoken but ever-present.

Aldric's shoulders sagged. "The betrothal is already arranged. Prince Orion of Camelot will…."

"Camelot?" 

Adrienne barked out a bitter laugh. "Of course. The mighty warrior kingdom. And what, this prince needs a bride so badly he'll settle for a 'feral princess' from a nothing kingdom?"

"He needs an heir before he can take his throne. You need protection. It's... strategic."

"Strategic." Adrienne's laugh was all edges. "So I'm a broodmare. A breeding machine with a crown. How flattering."

"You're twisting my words…"

"Am I?" She stalked toward him, fury blazing in her hazel eyes. "Some prince needs to make heirs, so you hand me over like livestock. I'm a knight, Father. I should be treated as one with all the respect my title have."

"You're a princess!" Aldric's voice rose to match hers. "An heiress! The future of Silvara depends on you!"

"I'm twenty-one years old!"

"Your mother was nineteen when we married."

The air went cold.

Adrienne's jaw clenched so hard her teeth ached, her hazel eyes burning ambers of anger. When she spoke again, her voice was deadly quiet. "My mother is dead. And I won't follow her into the grave by playing the obedient little wife."

Something crumpled in her father's face…grief and rage and desperation all tangled together. "No. You'll follow her by playing the reckless knight who refuses to see reason."

"Better die a warrior death than a prisoner."

"There is no better!" His roar shook dust from the rafters. "There's just death, Adrienne. Final and permanent. And I will not…I cannot bury you too."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Adrienne stood there, chest heaving, fists clenched at her sides. Every instinct screamed at her to fight, to argue, to rage against the cage closing around her throat.

But her father looked shattered. Broken in a way that had nothing to do with age and everything to do with loss. She hated him for it and she hated him for loving her enough to trap her.

"When?" The word scraped out like gravel.

"Four weeks." Aldric's voice was hollow now, defeated. "After we deal with the threat at the northern border."

"Then I'll deal with it." She turned back to her workbench, dismissing him with the rigid line of her spine. "And when I do, don't expect me to thank you for selling me like cattle."

"Adrienne…"

"Get out."

He didn't move, he just stared at her with the emotions she hated.

"Just go father"

The door closed behind him with a hollow thud. Adrienne stood perfectly still, staring at her reflection in the polished blade. Blonde curls escaping her braid. Hazel eyes burning with unshed fury. A princess who looked more like a soldier.

Four weeks.

Four weeks until she became Prince Orion of Camelot's unwanted bride.

She picked up the whetstone again, dragging it across steel in harsh, angry strokes.

༆

[KING ALDRIC’S CHAMBER]

The room was dark when he walked in, guards stationed outside. He sat on his armchair and reached for a black leather book. His fingers traced the cover slowly.

“I promised you Elowen,I promised I'd keep your daughter safe.”

He dropped the book with a sigh. “This is the only way”