All Chapters of The Marriage Meant for Another: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

“You will take her place?” My father stared at me as though he had misheard. Among all his daughters, I had always been the one most openly hostile toward Elara. If she so much as stumbled, I was expected to step aside and let her fall harder. Sending me north—to the barren borderlands, to a political marriage meant to trade a woman for peace—should have been unthinkable. “Only days ago,” the king said slowly,“you were in tears, begging me to grant you a marriage to General Adrian Vale.” I paused. Then I said calmly, “There is no need. Give that honor to my sister.” My father studied me in silence. There was not confusion in his eyes. Between Elara and me, he had always favored the younger one: sweeter, softer, easier to love. In my previous life, had I not resisted with everything I had, he would have sent me north in her place without hesitation. At last, he turned away. “Amend the decree,” he ordered. It was raining when I left the Grand Hall. Cold rain, relentless,

I attended what would be my last Mid-Autumn banquet in my homeland. By the time I arrived, the great hall was already alive with low music and candlelight—and with tears. Elara stood at the center of a circle of noble ladies, her eyes rimmed red, her voice trembling just enough to draw sympathy without breaking entirely. She clutched a silk handkerchief as though it were the only thing holding her together. “So after the festival, Princess Elara will be sent beyond the northern border…” one lady sighed loudly. “How tragic,” another murmured. “And the Crown Princess does nothing—nothing at all—except chase after General Adrian’s favor.” “At least Elara understands duty,” someone added. “Such devotion to the realm…” Elara’s shoulders shook. Beneath the sleeve that hid her face, a flicker of something else passed—brief, sharp, satisfied. Then she saw me. Her breath caught. I had never liked these gatherings. In previous years, I rarely attended the Mid-Autumn banquet at all. She

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

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