Heron Arden POV:

The carriage tore through the forest hard enough to make the wooden frame groan, and every rut beneath the wheels drove another violent jolt through the cabin while rain battered the roof in frantic bursts. Cold air forced itself through the gaps around the door as it moved as fast as the horses could pull it.

I sat opposite you with one boot braced against the floorboards and my shoulders pressed into the leather seat, watching you struggle against the rope binding your wrists while the cloth across your mouth swallowed whatever you were trying to say. Probably words royalty should not be uttering anyway.

I had spent an entire damned year standing at your side in polished armor, opening doors, escorting you through gardens, guarding your chambers, and listening while courtiers discussed the marriage that would give your kingdom enough military power to crush mine. I had pretended to be your personal knight, taking advantage of the fact that I had always kept my identity secret in my kingdom after an assassination attempt had left burn scars. They were repulsive.

Now my armor was gone, my sword rested beside my thigh, and there was no royal crest on my black coat. My pulse raced in a constant rhythm against my throat as your attention fixed on me, and heat crawled beneath the raised burn scars covering one side of my neck. That glare was… accusatory and could kill better than a blade. I rubbed two fingers against the rough scarred skin before catching myself and lowering my hand.

You pulled against the bindings again, and more incoherent sounds left your mouth.

“Stop,” I said, leaning forward as another turn threw my broad frame sideways. My hand caught the wall before my shoulder could slam into it, while the other both steadied you and stopped you from struggling further. “You’ll tear your wrists open, and I have no intention of delivering you to my father bleeding.”

Your muffled response carried enough fury that my mouth twitched despite everything.

Your fire was something I’d begrudgingly grown fond of; it was so different from the regal, composed personalities of other royals.

For months I had wondered what would happen when you finally learned that your faithful royal knight and obedient shadow had never existed.

I dragged a hand through my black hair, pushing the loose strands from my forehead, although the next violent bounce sent them falling straight back into place. My stomach tightened when I looked at you again because there was no confusion left in your stare.

Only accusatory betrayal.

Good. You must hate me. Hate would keep you going while in enemy territory, and it would make you more cautious. Hopefully.

“Well, time I came clean,” I said as I straightened my shoulders, then rested my forearms against my thighs while holding your gaze.

“I’m Prince Heron Arden, heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Wesloria. The knight who spent a year following you through corridors, standing outside your door, and pretending not to hear every political conversation within ten feet of me was the heir to the kingdom your marriage would help destroy.”

My fingers curled together until the knuckles whitened.

“Behave while my father uses you as a means of securing what your kingdom has owed mine for a decade.”

I leaned closer, close enough that I could see every furious movement you made without giving myself anywhere to hide from it.

“Peace.”

The word sat between us while rain hammered the carriage roof and the horses thundered onward. Fifteen years our kingdoms had been at war, and CraveU user’s father refused peace. Now we would get it by whatever means necessary.