LOGINMy husband and I were the two people who hated each other most in this world. He hated me for tearing him away from the woman he loved. And I hated him because that his heart remained occupied by another woman. For eight years of marriage, the words we spoke to each other most often were not love, nor duty, but curses. Yet on the day the city fell, everything changed, the enemy banners were already visible beyond the inner gate. He rode ahead and took the road, putting his body between the enemy and my escape. “Live,” he said quietly. Then he raised his blade and did not look back. Arrows came like rain. As they tore into him, he turned his head once—only once— After that, his body held the road,and nothing passed. “If there is another life…may Your Highness grant me the mercy to belong to her.” That night, with the city in ruins and the people either dead or fleeing, I climbed the highest tower of the palace. I leapt. When I opened my eyes again, I went to the king. “The northern kingdoms require a royal bride,” I said. “I will go.” This lifetime, I will be the one to cross the border. In my previous life, he died believing he had failed her. This time, I will not allow that regret to exist. I will take the marriage meant for her. I will carry the crown meant to exile her. I will walk into a future she should never have to endure. Let her stay. Let him protect her. Let him live his life believing he has finally kept his promise.
View MoreHe moved before I finished breathing. One moment there was distance between us—custom, borders, fate— the next, his hand closed around my wrist with a force that startled us both. “We’re leaving,” Adrian said. Not a request. Not a plan. An order barked from instinct, sharp and unthinking, the way commands were given on a battlefield when hesitation meant death. I staggered a half-step toward him. The guards stirred. Steel whispered from scabbards. I looked up at him, stunned—not by the pain in my wrist, but by the naked fury in his eyes. Gone was the restraint, the discipline that had always defined him. This was not a general weighing consequences. This was a man who had reached the edge of himself. “Now,” he said again, lower this time. “Before this place takes anything else from you.” For a heartbeat, I wanted to go. God help me, I wanted to turn my horse south and never look back—to let him pull me out of this nightmare and pretend the treaty, the blood, the years of s
Elise POV I had stopped expecting rescue. That, perhaps, was the most dangerous thing of all. The north taught its lessons quickly. Silence was safer than protest. Stillness invited less attention than fear. On the third day, one of the women assigned to me tugged too hard at my sleeve while dressing me for court, and I did not pull away in time. The fabric tore. The blade that followed was swift and careless, meant to remind me where I stood. The blood dried dark against the pale wool. No one apologized. I did not ask for it. By the fourth night, I understood what Elara must have faced in the other life—the constant testing, the quiet cruelty disguised as custom, the waiting to see when the southern bride would finally break. I would not. If this was the price of peace, then I would pay it standing. That was why, when the guards announced an audience—unexpected, unscheduled—I assumed it was another humiliation dressed as courtesy. Another northern lord curious to see how muc
Adrian POV The road north unraveled beneath my horse’s hooves, mile after mile of frozen ground cutting through the last illusion that I still had time. I had seen this ending before. In the last life, it was Elara who went north—trembling, weeping, clinging to every farewell as if it were a lifeline. She had written once, then never again. A year later, word reached the capital: the northern consort had taken her own life. The court mourned briefly. I told myself it was inevitable. I told myself I had done what duty required. I had been wrong. This time, it was her. The woman who rode alone beyond the gates without tears, without reproach, without even turning back toward the city that had sacrificed her. And that was what terrified me most. By the third night, I began to hear it everywhere—the truth I had buried under discipline and honor. The northern lords did not keep fragile women alive. They tested them. They broke them. Or they killed them. I knew their customs. I
The familiar face beneath the veil struck him like a blow. “Elara!” She surged into his arms, clutching his chest as if the ground itself had vanished beneath her feet. “How—how is it you?” he asked hoarsely. The moment the words left his mouth, a cold thought took shape. Elara’s gaze flickered away. Her voice softened, threaded with unease and something carefully concealed. “I… I don’t know,” she said. “Yesterday the royal decree was altered. They said… Elise was sent north in my place.” The room seemed to tilt. “What did you say?” Adrian seized her shoulders, fingers biting hard enough to leave bruises. “If she went north—then the woman who rode out alone beyond the gates—” “Elara,” someone called urgently from outside. “General—where are you going?” Adrian released her as if burned. He did not answer. Still dressed in ceremonial red, he snatched his sword from its stand, crossed the chamber in three strides, and was gone—mounting his horse and driving it forward thro












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