Chapter 10
ten
. . .
Lachlan
"I love you." Three words I never expected to hear from her lips.
Three words that have turned the warrior king into something else entirely—a man humbled by a gift he never thought to receive.
For days after Fiona's confession, I find myself watching her with wonder, unable to believe that the woman I took by force now gives herself to me willingly, completely.
The fierce princess who once glared at me with hatred now looks at me with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
I've conquered seven kingdoms, but none of those victories compares to winning her heart.
And now, as we prepare to face our enemies, I realize I would surrender all those kingdoms, all that power, all that glory, if it meant keeping her safe at my side.
This is what love does—it transforms conquest into sacrifice, possession into partnership.
It makes the conqueror willing to be conquered in turn.
"You're staring again," Fiona observes, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she adjusts the crown nestled among her golden curls.
She stands before the polished metal mirror in our chambers, preparing for the audience with the border lords.
The gown she wears, deep blue embroidered with silver, emphasizes both her royal lineage and her new position as my queen.
"I can't help it." I move to stand behind her, my hands settling on her waist, my chin resting on top of her head. "You're painfully beautiful."
"Painfully?" She raises an eyebrow, meeting my gaze in the reflection.
"It hurts to look at you," I admit, the honesty still uncomfortable but increasingly natural between us. "Like staring at the sun."
A blush stains her cheeks, but she doesn't look away. "Who would have thought the mighty Lachlan Drummond could be so poetic?"
"Only for you." I press a kiss to the top of her head, careful not to disturb her crown. "Are you nervous about today?"
She's quiet for a moment, considering the question with characteristic thoughtfulness. "Not nervous," she finally says. "Resolved. These men are using my name, my father's claim, to justify violence against people I'm sworn to protect. That cannot stand."
The strength in her voice, the conviction, fills me with pride. This is no frightened girl playing at queenship, but a true ruler coming into her power.
"They won't expect you to stand with me so firmly," I tell her. "They still believe you're my captive, forced to my bed and my throne."
"Then they'll learn the truth." She turns in my arms, looking up at me directly rather than through the reflection. "That I choose to stand beside you. That we are stronger together than apart."
I bend to capture her lips, unable to resist the fire in her eyes, the determination in her voice. What begins as a gentle kiss quickly deepens, her arms winding around my neck, my hands splaying across her back to pull her closer.
"If we continue this," I murmur against her mouth, "we'll miss the audience entirely."
She laughs, pulling back reluctantly. "And give Lord Aiden exactly what he wants—more time to sow discord among our people." Her expression sobers. "We can't afford that, can we?"
"No." I straighten, adjusting my own crown—a heavier, more ornate piece that I usually avoid wearing but which serves an important purpose today. "Though after this is settled, I plan to spend at least a day with you in this chamber, making you cry my name until your voice gives out."
Her blush deepens, but the heat in her eyes matches my own. "A promise I'll hold you to, my king."
We make our way to the great hall, side by side, guards flanking us at a respectful distance. The corridors are unusually quiet, all non-essential personnel having been cleared from the castle as a precaution against potential infiltrators.
Outside the great hall, I pause, turning to her one last time. "Remember—at the first sign of trouble, you go with Callum. No arguments, no hesitation."
"And leave you to face danger alone?" She shakes her head. "That's not how this works, Lachlan. Not anymore."
"Fiona—"
"No." She places her hand on my cheek, her touch gentle but her expression unyielding. "I am your queen. Your partner. I stand with you, not behind you. If there's danger, we face it together."
I want to argue, to insist on her safety above all else. But the determination in her eyes tells me it would be futile. More than that, it would dishonor the woman she's become—the queen who chooses to rule beside me rather than submit beneath me.
"Together, then," I concede, covering her hand with mine. "But promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise." She rises on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to my lips. "Now, let's remind these lords exactly who rules this kingdom."
The great hall falls silent as we enter, all eyes turning to watch our approach.
The border lords stand in a loose cluster at the center of the room, their expressions ranging from openly hostile to carefully neutral.
Behind them, their guards shift nervously under the watchful gaze of my own men, who line the walls with hands resting on sword hilts.
Lord Aiden stands at the forefront, a slight man with calculating eyes and a mouth that seems perpetually twisted in displeasure. Beside him is a younger lord I recognize as Edgar's nephew—a distant relation to Fiona who clearly hopes to improve his position through this rebellion.
We take our seats on the twin thrones at the head of the hall, and I note with satisfaction how naturally Fiona assumes her position—back straight, chin lifted, every inch the queen despite the youth still evident in her features.
"My lords," I begin, my voice carrying easily through the hushed hall. "You requested this audience. Speak your piece."
Lord Aiden steps forward, offering a bow that's just shallow enough to be insulting. "We come on behalf of the eastern territories, Your Majesty." The title drips with sarcasm. "To express our concern for the welfare of Princess Fiona and her father, the rightful king of these lands."
"Former king," I correct, keeping my tone mild though my hand tightens on the arm of my throne. "And the queen—not princess—sits beside me, as you can plainly see."
Aiden's gaze shifts to Fiona, his expression one of false sympathy. "Your Highness, we understand the... difficult position you've been placed in. Forced to marry your conqueror, to share his bed, to wear his crown. We've come to offer you liberation from this captivity."
A murmur runs through the hall, eyes turning to Fiona with undisguised curiosity. I resist the urge to speak for her, to shut down Aiden's insinuations with force. This is her moment, her challenge to meet.
Fiona rises slowly from her throne, her expression serene despite the insult inherent in Aiden's words. "Lord Aiden," she begins, her voice clear and steady. "I appreciate your concern for my welfare. Truly, I do. But I fear you labor under a misapprehension."
She steps forward, descending the shallow steps that raise the thrones above the main floor. I tense, fighting every instinct that screams at me to keep her safely at my side. But I remain seated, allowing her this display of independence, of strength.
"I am not a captive," she continues, moving closer to the gathered lords. "I am a queen. Chosen by my husband, yes, but also choosing him in return. The union of our kingdoms brings strength, stability, and prosperity that benefits all our people—including those in the eastern territories."
"Pretty words," Aiden says, his tone dismissive. "No doubt rehearsed under threat of punishment if you deviate."
Fiona's laugh is genuinely amused, surprising even me with its warmth. "Do I look threatened to you, my lord? Do I speak like a woman living in fear?"
She turns, addressing the entire gathering rather than just Aiden.
"I know some of you fought against this marriage.
Some of you may still resent the union of our kingdoms. But look around you.
" She gestures to the hall, to the castle beyond.
"Where is the suffering you predicted? Where is the tyranny you feared?
Our people are fed, protected, governed with wisdom I have witnessed firsthand. "
Her gaze returns to Aiden, hardening slightly.
"What I cannot abide—what I will not allow—is violence committed in my name.
The attack on the southern village was an act of cowardice that dishonors everything my family has stood for.
If you truly wish to serve me, you will lay down your arms and pledge fealty to your king. To both your rulers."
The hall is silent when she finishes, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. I can see the impact they have on some of the younger lords, their expressions shifting from skepticism to consideration. But Aiden's face has darkened with barely contained fury.
"So the rumors are true," he says, his voice dripping with disgust. "You've fallen under his spell. Become his willing whore rather than his reluctant bride."
I'm on my feet before the last word leaves his mouth, sword half-drawn, rage burning through my veins. But Fiona's hand shoots up, stopping me with a gesture as surely as if she'd physically restrained me.
"That word," she says, her voice dangerously soft, "is not one you want to direct at your queen, Lord Aiden. Not if you value your tongue."
The threat, delivered with such quiet certainty, sends a ripple of shock through the hall. This is not the gentle princess they remember, but a queen grown into her power.
Aiden's face contorts with rage, his hand moving to his belt. "If you will not be rescued," he spits, "then perhaps you're no longer of use to the eastern territories at all."