It all kicks off with a silver spoon.
I'm alone in the morning room, or so I think, fiddling with a delicate spoon between my fingers, listening to the soft clink against the porcelain cup. I'm not hungry. I haven't been since I got here. Food just doesn't taste right when you're filled with dread.
The room feels too quiet, too fancy. Soft sunlight streams through the high windows, shining through old glass that seems to have its own stories. The tea in front of me is still steaming, untouched. A scone sits on a plate, fluffy and perfect. But it might as well be a rock.
Then I hear a voice.
"I was hoping you'd ask questions before you started breaking things."
I didn't jump. I'm tired of jumping. I just turn my head and see Kael standing by the door, arms crossed, and that unreadable look on his face. His eyes follow the spoon in my hand, like it could be dangerous.
Maybe it is. I'm not sure what I might do, throw it at him or stab it into my leg just to feel something real.
"I'm not breaking anything," I say flatly. "Yet."
"Good." He walks in without waiting for an invite, not that he'd need one in his castle, and sits down across from me. "We need to talk."
I lean back. "That's never a good sign."
"This one's worse."
Great.
He waves his hand, and a scroll appears on the table with a soft thud. It's thick parchment, tied with dark blue wax. It smells faintly like stardust and something old, something that should stay forgotten.
I look at it like it might bite. "What's that?"
"The terms."
"For what?"
"Our year."
My skin prickles. "Excuse me?"
Kael folds his hands in front of him, shadows flickering slightly around his wrists, restless. "It's part of the original Treaty Pact. The bond can't be forced or rushed. There's gotta be a year of living together before the bond is settled or broken."
My stomach lurches.
"One year," he repeats, calm but not cold. "We live together. We coexist. You see the kingdom. I… do my best not to scare you. After that, if the bond hasn't formed, the marriage gets annulled. You go home."
I stare at him, not blinking. "And if it does form?"
For just a second, something changes in his eyes, like something stirs beneath his skin, ancient and hurt.
"Then you stay," he says. "Forever."
The silence between us is heavy. A whole year. With him. In this place. With shadows that move on their own and a prince who won't touch me and hardly ever smiles unless blood is involved.
"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" I ask.
Kael shrugs. "I wanted to make sure you got through the first night."
"How thoughtful."
He doesn't take the bait. "This isn't a punishment, Aria."
"No?" I push my chair back, and it screeches across the floor. "Because it feels like one."
"You've got a room. You're safe. You'll be free to come and go in the castle with guards, of course."
"Of course."
"And I won't bother you unless necessary."
I fold my arms and start pacing. My body is trying to shake this off like a bad dream, but it won't budge. It's stuck in my life now. This gold-plated prison.
"You're saying I'm stuck here with you for a year, and then what? We just… check a box? Bond or no bond?"
"It's more than that," he says quietly. "The bond is magic. It goes deep. If it decides to settle, neither of us can break it."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then you leave. Alive. Unharmed."
"But changed."
He nods. "Everyone leaves changed."
My hands are turned into fists without me noticing. I want to scream. I want to cry. But instead, I do what I always do when life tips sideways: I look for solid ground.
"And if I try to run before the year's up?" I ask.
He looks straight into my eyes. "Then the bond dies with you."
My breath hitches.
It's not a threat.
It's the truth.
The castle isn't just holding me here. The magic is. The bond is tied to this place, to him, to whatever fragile thread the gods are messing with. If I cut myself free early, it snaps. And I go down with it.
"So I have no choice."
"You have time," he says. "You've got a chance."
I meet his gaze again. There's a hint of regret in his eyes. Or maybe he's just good at pretending.
I think about my mother's hands, the way she used to crush herbs into hot water and whisper prayers. The villagers who hugged me when their kids got better. The dirt on my knees, the smell of the river wind in my hair, the soft way the morning sun streamed through our cabin's shutters.
And now… this.
Shadows. Silence. A prince who can't be touched and a curse that wants to sink its claws into my heart.
Kael slides the scroll toward me. "Read it. Don't make a decision now."
"Oh, I've already made my choice," I say, my voice shaky. "But it doesn't matter, does it?"
"No," he replies. "It doesn't."
He stands to leave, then stops.
He doesn't turn around when he says it maybe because it's easier that way. Maybe because he really means it.
"I'm sorry."
I stare at his back.
Then the door shuts behind him.