MasukKing Idra POV I do not go to the council. I do not rest. There is only one place I go. Lila. The halls shift as I walk toward her chambers. Warmer. Quieter. Familiar in a way the rest of this palace is not. Torches burn softer here. The air feels different. Less rigid. Less demanding. The guards open the doors without question. They always do. She is already there. Waiting. Queen Lila rises the moment she sees me. Her white hair falls over her shoulders like silk, catching the light as she moves toward me with quiet grace. “My king,” she breathes, a smile forming on her lips. There is no fear in her eyes. No hesitation. Only devotion. “You came,” she says softly, stopping just before me. “I always do,” I reply. Her smile deepens at that, something warm settling in her expression. “Even after everything,” she continues, her voice calm, almost pleased. “You still come back to me.” I do not answer. There is no need. She already knows. Her gaze lingers on me, search
Kiana POVThe carriage rocks beneath me.Each movement echoes through my body, steady and unrelenting, like a drum beating against my ribs. I keep my hands folded tightly in my lap, fingers twisting the fabric of my gown just to keep them from trembling.I cannot look at him.Not yet.Not while I am still holding onto whatever part of myself remains.His presence fills the carriage even in silence. It presses against me from every side, heavy and suffocating. I hear nothing but the turning of the wheels and the pounding of my own heart.I risk a glance.He sits across from me.Still.Silent.Watching.My gaze drops instantly back to my lap, heat rising to my cheeks.I do not understand him.Not his silence.Not the way he looks at me without really looking.Not the weight of something unspoken that lingers between us.I try to think of home.My father’s hall.My sisters laughing as they run through the corridors.The gardens, soft and full of life.But the memories do not comfort me.
King Idra POVThe journey back to Kerio takes two days.Two days to remind her who she belongs to.Two nights to begin breaking her.Kiana may be strong. I see it in the way she carries herself. Quiet. Controlled. Defiant in a way she thinks I do not notice.But strength bends.And I will bend hers until there is nothing left but obedience.I will make her life miserable.Not out of impulse.Out of purpose.As the sun begins to set, we bring the caravan to a halt. Orders are given quickly. Guards move into position, setting up camp with practiced ease. Fires are lit. Tents rise one after another.I sit inside my command tent, going over plans with my generals. Their attention is fixed, their voices steady. No one dares to waste my time.Then I am interrupted.A guard steps in and informs me that Kiana wishes to speak with me.I feel irritation rise instantly.I do not tolerate interruptions.Especially not during meetings.For a moment, I consider refusing. Let her wait. Let her learn
King Idra – POV, The ceremony means nothing once it is done. What matters Is what follows. The palace does not celebrate. There is no music. No laughter. Only silence. Heavy. Unwelcome. As expected. Preparations are already underway by the time I step out of the hall. The stone beneath my boots echoes with each movement, sharp and deliberate, cutting through the stillness that has settled over the palace like a storm waiting to break. My men move efficiently. Horses are readied in the courtyard, their breath visible in the cool air. Carriages stand in position, polished and prepared. Guards line the outer walls, watchful and disciplined, their armor glinting faintly beneath the dull sky. We leave today. I do not intend to remain here longer than necessary. Behind me, I hear her footsteps. Unsteady. But present. She follows. Good. I do not turn to look at her. There is nothing I need to confirm. Obedience has already been secured. “She wil
King Idra – POV, The priest is speaking. I do not listen. His voice fills the hall, steady and practiced, words meant to give meaning to something that no longer needs it. Words meant to comfort those who stand watching, to make them believe this moment carries honor instead of surrender. None of it matters. The doors open. And everything else fades. She walks in. Kiana. Her steps are slow. Careful. As if each one costs her something she cannot afford to give. Tears fall silently down her face, catching the light before disappearing against her skin. They move without restraint, leaving faint shining paths along her cheeks. She does not wipe them away. She does not try to hide them. Good. My gaze does not leave her. Not for a second. I watch everything. The way her hands tremble slightly at her sides. The faint tightening of her fingers as if she wants to reach for something that is no longer there. The way her shoulders remain tense, held too ti
Kiana – POV, I don’t understand. The words echo in my mind, louder than everything else around me. One hour. The wedding will take place in one hour. I stare at him as he walks away, his presence still lingering long after he is gone. The air feels colder now, heavier, like something has shifted that cannot be undone. My body feels wrong. Too still. Too heavy. As if I have forgotten how to move. Then I turn. My eyes find my father. “Father…?” My voice trembles. So do my hands. “What is he talking about?” No one answers. The silence presses against me, thick and suffocating. It fills the space between us until it feels like I cannot breathe inside it. I take a step forward. My breath grows uneven now, my chest tightening with something I cannot name. Something sharp and spreading. “Father, what is he talking about?” I ask again, louder this time. He looks at me. But not the way he usually does. Not with warmth. Not with patience. There is something in his eyes







