Chapter 5

A vanity table had been set up in the adjoining room. It was clearly new, carved from luxury wood, with precise craftsmanship and a deep, polished shine. A clear mirror sat on top, along with a lacquered jewelry box.

"It's such a shame His Highness couldn't see you today," said Sylvia Lester, Vivian's personal maid, as she began taking down her mistress' hair. Her voice was small and wistful.

Vivian smiled lightly. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Beautiful women are everywhere. I'm nothing special."

She was seventeen. Damian was ten years older.

Over the years, he'd surely seen more beautiful women than she could count—dazzling ones, charming ones, playful ones. Her own face was ordinary by comparison. And none of those women had ever made him want to marry. He'd stayed single for years, by choice.

From what people said, there was someone he already loved. Not for the first time, Vivian found herself wondering what kind of woman could have left that kind of mark on a man like Damian.

After washing up, she changed into a soft white sleeping gown. Harvey had already laid out a fresh pillow and a clean quilted blanket on Damian's left side. Once everything was in order, the attendants quietly withdrew.

Vivian climbed carefully into bed and lay down beside him. The large bed allowed for a comfortable distance between them. She caught the faint smell of herbal medicine and felt the warmth radiating off his body. Like her father and brother, Damian had trained his whole life. So, his body always ran a little warm.

Vivian turned onto her side. The night was heavy and dark; the moonlight faint. But the lamps burned brightly, filling the room with warm light. Under the soft glow, she studied her husband's profile.

His features were sharp and well-defined. His dark and thick eyelashes cast a light shadow under his eyes. His lips were pale from months of sleep, while stubble adorned his jaw.

She watched him for a moment, then quietly said, "I'm really sorry for saying I'd marry you while you're still unconscious."

Outside the window, the nightingale’s melodious chirp floated in.

She paused briefly, then continued, "But I promise I'll take good care of you. I'll be a good wife to you."

-

Compared to the warmth filling Fairmont Estate that night, Highcrest Palace felt hollow.

Julian had been sick for days. The royal physicians had come and gone, prescriptions had been written and filled, but he wasn't getting any better.

Rosalind made no effort to hide her displeasure. Everyone at Highcrest Palace had been walking on eggshells, keeping their heads down and avoiding conversation as they carefully did their duties.

Julian knew nothing about all this. He lay in bed, his mind in chaos.

He dreamed of a wedding where he was the groom. Rain was pouring down outside, heavy and relentless. With his shoes and clothes soaked through and filthy, discomfort clung to him with every step.

Walking into the bridal suite, he saw Vivian sitting on the wedding bed. Her hair was swept up and pinned at the crown of her head, topped with an elaborate, jeweled headdress. Her wedding dress was a deep, vivid blue, embroidered with white swallows and roses. In the candlelight, it shimmered with every small movement she made.

She'd sewn that gown herself. The Sinclair family's daughter was skilled in horsemanship and archery, as well as painting and embroidery.

At that moment, her cheeks were flushed. Her head was slightly lowered, her dimples showing as she smiled sweetly.

Julian couldn't look away. As he stood there and stared, the miserable rain outside stopped mattering entirely. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, growing faster by the second.

He jolted awake. Julian's vision went dark for a moment, and all he could see was the bluish-gray canopy above him. His whole body was damp with sweat. It took him a long moment to pull himself back together.

His personal attendant stepped in from outside. "Your Highness, you're awake?"

"What time is it?" Julian asked, his voice coming out rough.

"Nearly nine at night, Your Highness. Her Majesty should be returning from Fairmont Estate soon."

Julian pushed himself upright. "What day is it?"

"The third of June, Your Highness. Today is Prince Damian's wedding to Lady Sinclair."

Julian went still. Once again, Vivian's image appeared in his mind. She was wearing her wedding gown, smiling faintly. Something inside his chest pulled tight, then ached, a dull, spreading pain he couldn't name.

"Her Majesty has arrived."

The announcement came from outside the door.

A few moments later, Rosalind entered, supported by one of her attendants. When she saw her son sitting up, her face brightened. "Julian, are you feeling better?"

Julian made a vague sound of agreement, his mind still elsewhere.

A servant lit the candles nearby. Rosalind studied her son's pale complexion, wondering if it was due to his illness.

She settled herself on the edge of the bed and spoke slowly, "Now that Prince Damian's wedding is done, I can finally breathe again. From here on out, the only thing I'll be focused on is arranging your marriage."

Julian blinked. "I..."

"You're the crown prince, and you're already past twenty. Your father brings up your marriage constantly, and every officer at court is watching and waiting," Rosalind cut him off gently, her smile warm.

"Once you're feeling better, I'll start making arrangements. There are so many young women from good families in the capital. We'll take our time and find the right one. Someone refined, well-mannered, and accomplished... Any one of them would be a far better match than Lady Sinclair."

Julian felt something tighten in his chest at the sound of her name.

Now that Rosalind had started, she kept going, "When you were young and should've been focused on your studies, that girl was always pulling you away to play. She even talked you into sneaking out of the palace. You nearly got hurt because of her. From that moment on, I never liked her.

"These past few years, she clung to you like glue while you poured yourself into your duties. I wanted to have her removed from the palace entirely. But the Sinclair family had standing, and I had to show some degree of respect for that. Now that they're all gone, she has nothing left to offer. At least she had the sense not to push for a marriage with you.

"As for things at Fairmont Estate, it's no paradise either. Damian's been unconscious for months, and his relatives have turned the place into a mess. If I hadn't stepped in personally, this wedding never would've come together as smoothly as it did. Lady Sinclair is going to have a hard road ahead of her."

Julian said nothing.

Having gotten everything out, Rosalind seemed lighter for it. She stood and smoothed her dress. "Alright, get some rest. Get well quickly, and once you're back on your feet, I'll arrange for you to meet some of these young women. With me looking out for you, your place as the crown prince is secure."

-

Before dawn had fully broken the next day, Vivian was already awake.

Sylvia came in to do her hair and looked at her carefully. "Did you not sleep well, Your Highness?"

Vivian blinked slowly. "New bed."

And there had been a man lying beside her all night, which was something she wasn't used to. Because of that, sleep hadn't come easily.

She looked at herself in the mirror and rubbed her eyes. "Sylvia, do a bun today. After that, we should..."

"The princess consort is awake, I trust?"

The voice came from outside the door, old but carrying plenty of force behind it.

Vivian glanced sideways and saw a well-dressed old maid.

The maid, Lydia Brown, didn't curtsy. Instead, she said, "Being the first day after the wedding, Madam Rebecca would like the princess consort to come and make her formal call."

Vivian was already aware about the situation at Fairmont Estate.

Damian and the current king were both born of the late queen. Her family name was Sullivan, and she had two younger siblings, Emily and Benjamin Sullivan. Emily had married into a marquis' family and lived far south in Sancrea, while Benjamin had joined the military, where he fought alongside Damian and died saving his life.

Carrying some guilt over that, Damian had brought his late uncle's wife, Rebecca Hudson, and their children into the estate to live under his protection.

Damian had spent most of his life away on campaign and never had much time to manage household affairs, so Rebecca had stepped in and taken over. In practical terms, it meant that she was the one running Fairmont Estate now.

Vivian had also heard that Rebecca had once hoped to marry her youngest daughter to Damian. She'd brought it up at some point, but the prince had said no.

And now, Vivian was the one who had married him.