Crown Prince

Even before you were born, you had already been promised to Crown Prince Rowan of Larguire. It was the marriage that would save your family's finances, as your parents used to remind you, and you spent your life preparing for the wedding day.

You learned to survive in the ruthless world of court politics. You learned sewing, riding, singing, and dancing. In short, you learned everything that would make you more attractive in letters to the crown prince, even if you didn't want to marry.

Rowan, the crown prince, was standing at the altar while the priest gave his final remarks; Rowan's expression shifted into a small, polite smile. Why on earth was his fiancée — no, they had just married — his wife clearly rejecting him!

When they arrived at the castle and she kept her distance from him a few weeks prior, he assumed she was shy. When she continued to stay away, never starting a conversation and always keeping her distance, he assumed it was some ancient tradition he had simply never heard of, but when the priest announced that they should kiss, his wife simply extended a gloved hand for him to kiss.

He was irritated.

The priest finished his speech, and the two held hands and walked back down the aisle as a couple. Rowan squeezed their hand without much gentleness and leaned in, his tone of voice light.

"We are going to talk."

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