Chapter 4
VIVIENNE
The last day of the ball is just as miserable as the first. The only difference? I’m growing dangerously bored.
I adjust the silk skirts of my sapphire-blue gown, the fitted bodice laced so tight I can barely breathe. My jewels glitter beneath the chandelier’s golden light, and my hair has been twisted into an elaborate crown of braids, each strand meticulously placed.
I may not want a husband, but I do like looking my best. And yet, every man in this room is dreadfully dull.
The latest offender stands before me now—a Fae lord draped in velvet, his silver eyes gleaming with confidence. He’s been droning on for several minutes about his land holdings, his wealth, his many assets.
I can’t take it anymore. “Apologies, my lord, but I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t mention your most prized asset.”
He frowns. “What do you mean, Princess?”
I lean in slightly. “Why, your overwhelming self-importance, of course.”
His smile vanishes and someone behind him spits out their drink.
As the evening wears on, the crowd begins to thin. I gaze out the window and see several carriages already leaving even though it’s the middle of the night.
The last suitor remaining is an Elven lord. My father pleads with him to stay, but I pointedly ignore him when he asks me to dance.
When he storms out of the room, my father’s patience finally breaks. “Vivienne!” He surges to his feet. “With me. Now.”
“What? Why?” I blink, feigning innocence as I move closer to the exit. “Perhaps we can talk later?”
“That was not a request,” he grits through his teeth. “It’s a command.”
Goosebumps prickle my flesh. Father has always been patient with me, but there’s something dangerously final in his tone. Perhaps I’ve finally pushed him too far.
I lift my chin in defiance. “Fine.”
My father’s stride is measured and stiff, his jaw tight. My brother follows as Father leads me away from the prying eyes of the staff, and into the throne room, the great doors closing behind us with a resounding boom.
Father sits on his throne, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair so tightly his knuckles turn white. “Have you chosen a suitor?”
“No, I have not,” I reply, completely unrepentant.
The wood creaks as he tightens his grip. “You leave me no choice, then.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
He exhales, long and slow, as if the weight of the entire kingdom presses down upon him, simply because I’ve not picked a husband. “I will choose one for you.”
My stomach drops. “Wait. What?”
I glance helplessly at my brother and his expression is stone, just like my father’s.
“You cannot be serious!”
He meets my gaze evenly. “I am.”
Panic curls like a cold fist in my chest, and I look once more at Aldric, silently pleading for him to come to my aid, but he remains silent.
“Fine,” I say primly. “If you’re so determined to see me married, then I’ll choose.”
My mind starts sifting through the various nobles. Perhaps the High Elf Prince. He may be vain, but he is handsome. And his kingdom is supposed to be wondrously beautiful.
Or maybe the Fae Lord. I’m a princess, but marrying beneath my station wouldn’t necessarily be bad. I’d probably be left to my own devices more often than not, and it would be a great deal less responsibility than being a queen...
“It’s too late for that,” Father snaps. “You’ve already insulted every man here.
No one will have you. They are leaving.” He gestures to the window and the trail of carriages and horses riding away from the castle.
“All of them. Even after I discreetly had my advisor inform everyone that I’d doubled your dowry. ”
Desperation fills me. My gaze flicks to the edge of the room—to a servant, to a guard—anyone, but they each drop their eyes and subtly step back, as if afraid I might choose one of them.
The realization hits like a slap. Even with a dowry that could buy an entire kingdom… I have made myself unacceptable.
But my pride quickly kicks in and I scoff, insulted. I’m smart, beautiful, cultured… well-read. Any man would be fortunate to have me as his wife.
“You’ve left me with no choice, Vivienne,” Father says. “The next man to walk through those doors will be your husband.”
My jaw drops but I quickly snap it shut. “Very well,” I reply, calling his bluff. Two can play at this game.
My smirk falters when Father doesn’t so much as flinch.
I open my mouth to speak, but the doors creak open, and in walks him.
The Dark Elf soldier.
He strides across the throne room, dressed in black armor and a long dark cape. I wasn’t able to see him clearly last night in the darkness, but his gray-blue skin is spotless now, no longer streaked with dirt, but his armor is still worn, scratched from countless battles.
His hair, shorn close on one side, sweeps across his jaw on the left, midnight-dark against the sharp angles of his frustratingly handsome face. And those glowing blue eyes—like frozen fire—lock onto mine.
Heat rises in my cheeks as a slow, sharp smile tugs at his irritatingly gorgeous, full lips.
I clear my throat and look away, embarrassed by my reaction to him. What in the seven hells is he doing here anyway?
“I bring a message from the Dark Elf King.” He bows and hands my father a sealed parchment.
Father takes it, breaking the wax seal. I barely see him scanning the contents, because my eyes are still locked on the Dark Elf guard.
I swallow hard as the Elf’s gaze sweeps again to me, like a wolf that’s just caught the scent of its prey.
“Tell your King he still has my blessing with the plans we spoke of last night.”
The guard dips his chin. “If that will be all, I’ll be taking my leave, your Majesty,” he says, turning toward the door.
“Wait a moment,” my father calls out, and the Dark Elf halts in his tracks.
A sliver of dread travels down my spine as he slowly turns back around. “Yes, Your Highness?”
Father’s gaze sweeps over him, assessing. “Are you married?”
The guard tilts his head, frowning. “No, I am not.”
Father nods, as if this was a perfectly reasonable conversation. “Then I would like to offer you Princess Vivienne’s hand in marriage.”
I gasp. “Father, you cannot be serious.”
The soldier’s jaw drops. “I—I am but a common soldier.”
“It doesn’t matter. My daughter requires a husband. Your king is an honorable man. He wouldn’t keep you in his service if you weren’t the same. You’ll do,” Father says, his voice calm, final. “I will provide you with a horse, a cart, and a bag of gold coins. That should be sufficient for a dowry.”
The Dark Elf stares at Father a moment before turning to me. He has the nerve to look me up and down as if truly considering this ridiculous offer.
“I accept.” He nods. “I will take her as my bride.”
Horror fills me. “Have you gone completely mad?” I gesture to the Elf. “He’s a common soldier! He—he’s not even human! And I’ll have to leave the kingdom… leave my home!”
Father levels me with a look. “You would have had to do that no matter who you married.”
Desperate, I search for any way out. “Alright,” I say hurriedly. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll marry the High Elf prince.”
Father sighs. “He left after you insulted him.”
I falter. “The Bear shifter, then?”
“Gone as well.”
I glance toward the doors. “What about—”
“I already told you: you drove them all away, Vivienne.”
“No, that can’t be—”
“That is the reality of the situation,” he says firmly.
I whirl on the soldier, narrowing my eyes. “Fine,” I sneer. “You really want me to marry this stranger—this common soldier that you know absolutely nothing about except that he is not even human?”
“I do,” Father replies flatly before he turns his attention to one of his guards. “Find a priest.”
My heart slams against my ribs. I glance at my brother, but he averts his gaze, the traitor.
Surely, this cannot be real. Perhaps I’m dreaming… maybe this is a nightmare. I pinch my hand to wake up, but it doesn’t work.
How in the seven hells am I going to get out of this?
But then it occurs to me. This has to be a bluff—father’s way of teaching me a lesson. Well, if so, then I’ll make him sorry he even tried.
I lift my gaze to the Elf and find him studying me as if I am already his.
I narrow my eyes as I glance between the three of them—my father, brother, and the Elf. They all think they’re so clever, trying to bring me to heel.
They’re wrong, and I’ll make them regret it.
The Elf’s eyes never leave mine, and Gods help me, my traitorous heart flutters as an infuriatingly handsome smile curls at the corner of his lips.