In the days that followed, I slipped into a new rhythm at the Manor. Emelia had been brought to me a few days ago. She was now officially my head maid, though she rarely acted the part with formality. Friya remained, as well although she was still just as distant as before.
True to his word, Kaelen had my belongings brought from Dresdened Castle. I even sent my first letter to Saelow—though I had no idea if it would reach him. Although, Kaelen didn't interfere. He rarely came to the bedroom before I had already drifted into sleep. And when he did, he never said a word.
Lately, he seemed busier than usual. I only caught glimpses of him when we woke—if I woke early enough to catch him at all. He always left in silence, bathing and dressing in another room. I, meanwhile, got ready in ours.
The mandatory dinners with him had ceased. I'd taken to eating alone in the suite, though I couldn't say I missed the tension. Still… a strange silence lingered. One I couldn't quite name.
It's not concern, I told myself. It's curiosity. Simple curiosity. What is he up to?
"Earth to Nyriane," Emelia called, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Huh?"
"I said," she repeated with mock patience, holding up two gowns, "do you want the pink or the red one this evening?"
I blinked. "The red."
She smiled knowingly. "Excellent choice. You know what they say—'Men and bulls lose their minds over the color red. Only one has an excuse.'"
I scoffed. "That's nonsense. Why would I want to entice either?"
"Says the newlywed," she sing-songed, a teasing glint in her eyes.
"I've already told you—there's nothing between us."
"Uh-huh."
"Don't 'uh-huh' me."
"Well, Princess, you've said yourself he's not exactly what you expected."
"That doesn't mean anything. I'm still a pawn to him. If he's kind, it's calculated."
"But he doesn't have to be kind," she said softly.
That silenced me.
"Seems like he might like you," she added, trying to sound casual. "And call me crazy, but there are worse fates than being married to a man who might actually likes you."
"Emelia," I sighed, trying to shut down the thought. "You're talking in circles. I just want to get dressed and eat in peace."
She raised her hands in surrender. "As you wish, my lady. I'll ready the bath."
Once dressed, I decided to dine in the hall instead of the suite. A change of scenery might settle my restlessness. The guards followed at a respectful distance, by now so ever-present they felt like extensions of the Manor itself.
My thoughts drifted back to Emelia's words—
Seems like he might like you, Princess.
Like me? That's ridiculous.
I wasn't paying attention to where I was going when I collided with something—or rather, someone. I stumbled back, but two strong arms caught me. I looked up—and met the steel-blue gaze that had haunted my thoughts more than I cared to admit.
"Kaelen." His name left my lips before I could stop it.
He didn't speak at first. His hands lingered around my waist—firm, steady. Not painful, just… present. A jolt of heat spread through me, unbidden. I grasped his shoulders to steady myself, bringing me even closer to him. Far too close.
"Where are you off to?" he asked, his voice low.
"The dining hall," I replied, stepping away quickly. His eyes flicked down to the dress—red with white accents and a delicate lace-up back.
Men and bulls lose their minds over the color red...
No. That's absurd.
"Will you be joining me?" The question slipped out before I could think. Why am I asking him that?
He blinked, then looked away. "No. I have work to finish." His voice was quieter than usual, uncertain even.
"You're avoiding me." The words came out sharper than I intended.
"Why would I be avoiding you?" The corner of his mouth quirked upward into that familiar, maddening smirk.
I crossed my arms. "You tell me. Do I frighten you, Kaelen Thorne?"
His grin widened. "Is it strange for a man to fear his wife?"
He stepped closer. I backed away, only to feel the cold stone of the stairwell railing press against my spine. Kaelen leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of me, trapping me in a cage of warmth and shadows. His face hovered inches from mine.
"Don't you think it's cruel," he murmured, "how easily a woman can bring a man to his knees?"
"Cruel?" My voice faltered.
He nodded slowly. "Very cruel indeed." His eyes dropped—for just a second—before meeting mine again. They were darker than usual, turbulent, like a storm barely held back.
Then he blinked. And just like that, the moment shattered.
He stepped away like a man stung. His jaw tightened.
"Enjoy your dinner," he muttered and disappeared down the corridor, leaving me—and the two wide-eyed guards—rooted in stunned silence.