All Chapters of The War Bride : Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

The chapel bells rang like war drums.I stood beneath the arch of the ancient cathedral, her silk veil trembling in the wind. The scent of old stone and incense cling in the air. I gripped my bouquet and fixed my eyes on the long aisle that led to my husband.General Darrell Storm.He stood tall in his ceremonial armor, dark green cloak trimmed in the colours of house Storm. His jaw was set in stone, gaze unreadable. The boy I'd once known, the one who teased me and taught me how to fish — was gone. In his place was a man shaped by war and power.My heart thudded like hooves on dry land.This was not a matrimony of love but an arranged one. It was a treaty signed for peace between two names bound by bitter history. The Storms and Valdemonts. Their father's had once fought side by side, then turned on each other after a failed murder attempt. The kingdom never healed from the divide.Now, with unrest rising again, the high council had found an answer in old bloodlines and public displ

The light that filtered into the chambers was soft and warm. Not the pale silver sun in Highmere, but here it was golden.A knock, then after I grunted a come in, the door opened."Good morning, my lady," came a young voice, clear and bright.I stirred, barely lifting my head from the pillow. The bed was still unfamiliar, it's weight swallowing me whole. I sat up sheets entangled on my waist like vines.A girl about my age stepped in, curtsying quickly. She had a kind face, her uniform neatly pressed and an apron that bore the crest of the Storms'."I'm Lara, your personal maid," she introduced herself helping me stand up."I'm here to help with anything you need."Lara crossed to the window, drawing the curtains wide. "You're expected at breakfast with the storm family, Lady storm hates tardiness."I tensed. The storm family. My in—laws, my stranger husband. I would have to face him, face all of them, after what happened last night.Lara moved with quiet efficiency. Helping me freshe

The next morning, the air was colder, as if the tension of yesterday had settled on the stone walls.A knock came at my door– lady Storm, the lady of the house walked in.She entered the room with calm grace that belied her age. Her eyes, though tired, held none of the harshness her son had shown."I hope you slept well," she greeted.I nodded, "I am well rested.""Well, they're some things I have to teach and show you as the new lady of the house.... Come with me,"Her tone was warm but cautious.As we walked through the manor, she gestured towards ledgers and rooms, weaving between duty and kindness. Her steps were deliberate, her explanations clear.Eventually she stopped, her hands gently touched my arm, " About Darell, he'll warm up to you soon enough. You both were thrown in this marriage. But I do apologise for how he's been treating you."Before she could respond, another voice chimed in–a younger brighter one."Good morning ,lovely ladies."It was Coral, looking radiant under

I sat at the writing desk, sleeves pushed up, fingers stained slightly as I reviewed the household accounts. The morning sun filtered through the windows, gliding the ledger with soft light. Numbers danced before my eyes–servants wages,orders for winter preserves, a delay in firewood delivery. I didn't hear the door open. "You're overcalculating the kitchen inventory," came Darrell's voice, low–cool but not unkind. I startled, nearly blotting the page, "I didn't hear you come in." Darrell crossed the room without hurry, his boots soundless against the rug. He looked, as always, impeccable: coat buttoned, posture crisp, jaw just a little too tense. "You didn't answer my question," His eyes flicked to the ledger. "You're accounting for more sacks of flour than we received. Ask the head chef to confirm the delivery. She tends to over report when she's worried about shortages." "I see," I murmured, reaching for the quill again. "I'll make a note." He lingered beside the desk

The afternoon sun had dipped low. Casting long golden bars across the study as Coral and I huddled over the guest list, pages of names laid out like little puzzles pieces of a world I was still learning."There are so many," I murmured scanning the inked flourishes and gilded crests. "Do they all matter?""Every single one," Coral replied with a dry smile. "Whether for politics, appearance or gossip, they all serve a purpose. Though some..." She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. "Are more trouble than they're worth."My eyes stopped on a familiar name.Evelyn Harrow.The name hit like a pebble skipping a memory–sun dappled gardens, sticky fingers from stolen fruits, the echo of laughter through apple trees. Evelyn, we'd played together as children.I pointed at her name, "Is this Evie?"Coral nodded."I remember how she was terrible at braiding hair. I remember the time she started shedding her teeth and she accidentally swallowed one of them." I said laughing.Coral peered at