Wed to the War King 

CHAPTER 2: The Secret Admirer And Other Crimes

Queen Aria's POV

The training yard was my sanctuary—the one place where the weight of my crown didn't choke me. The rhythmic clang of steel against steel, the burn in my muscles, the way the world narrowed to just this moment, this breath, this strike—

And then the velvet box appeared.

One moment, the weapons rack held only my well-worn practice swords. The next, a small package sat perched atop them, tied with a silver ribbon that matched Vareen's crest.

Oh, hell no.

"Poison?" Rina, my ever-vigilant guard, lunged forward, hand on her own blade.

I flipped the box open with my dagger. Nestled inside was a delicate hairpin—crafted to look like a flickering flame, the jewels catching the morning light. A note curled beneath it:

For when you want to stab me in style. -K

I scowled. "He's mocking me."

Rina coughed. "Or flirting."

I snapped the box shut. "Same thing."

But my fingers lingered on the pin, tracing the intricate metalwork. It was... beautiful. And infuriating. And exactly my taste.


The Gifts Keep Coming

Like a treasonous scavenger hunt, the packages appeared:

  • A first-edition war strategy book, its margins filled with his neat script. Beside my most famous ambush: "Brilliant. I lost three battalions here. Also, you looked pretty covered in mud."
    I threw it across my chambers. (Then retrieved it at midnight, reading by candlelight until my eyes burned.)
  • A dagger, perfectly balanced for my grip, its hilt engraved: "For stabbing me later. Practice first."
    I tested its weight. It fit my hand like it had been made for me. (It had.)
  • Strawberries, fresh and glistening, left on my windowsill with no note.
    Coward. I ate every one.

Each gift was a puzzle, a provocation. Why would the man who'd once tried to siege my castle now memorize my favorite fruit?


The Library Incident

I caught him in the act.

Kael stood in the library, sliding a book onto my shelf—the one I'd claimed the moment we'd merged our courts. He froze when the door slammed behind me.

"Explain." I crossed my arms.

He blinked, all false innocence. "The ceiling collapsed in Vareen's library. Temporary storage?"

Liar. The book was Love Poems of the Southern Isles, and his ears were pink.

I snatched it. "You're terrible at this."

His grin was unrepentant. "But you're still blushing."

I flipped through the pages. A single stanza was underlined:

"I would wage every war anew,
if only to surrender to you."

My traitorous heart stuttered.


The Jealousy Game

Then Prince Eliam arrived.

Tall, golden-haired, and oozing charm, he bowed over my hand at dinner. "Queen Aria," he purred. "Even more radiant than the rumors."

Across the table, Kael's knife thunked into the wood between Eliam's fingers.

"Oops." He didn't sound sorry. "Slipped."

I kicked him under the table.

He kicked back—then his boot lingered, his calf pressing against mine. His smirk said mine.

Eliam, oblivious, launched into a story about his hunting dogs. Kael's hand "accidentally" knocked over his wine—directly into the prince's lap.

"Clumsy," I hissed.

"Worth it," he whispered back.


The Midnight Confrontation

I cornered him on the balcony, the stars our only witnesses. "Stop the gifts."

"Why?" Moonlight caught the silver strands in his hair, the sharp line of his jaw. "You hate them?"

Yes. No. I don't know.

"They're distracting," I muttered.

Kael stepped closer, until the heat of him burned through the cold night air. "From what?"

From remembering you're the enemy. From pretending I don't notice how your laugh lines crinkle. From forgetting that night in the war room when you almost—

His thumb brushed my lower lip, wiping away a stray strawberry seed. My breath hitched.

"From this," I whispered.

For one terrifying, exhilarating moment, his gaze dropped to my mouth—

Then the clocktower chimed midnight, and the spell broke.

Kael stepped back, that infuriating smirk back in place. "Sweet dreams, Fireheart."

I waited until he was gone to press my fingers to my lips, still tingling from his touch.

 

CHAPTER 3: The Weight of Crowns & Other Fragile Things

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