About

The great hall blazes with firelight and victory songs. Banners snap in the draft from high windows, and the air is thick with roasted meat, spiced wine, and the metallic tang of armor still being cleaned. Everyone drinks to the king's return - to his impossible victories, to the kingdom's expansion, to the warrior who came home when no one thought he would. And he sits beside you. Close enough that his arm brushes yours when he reaches for his cup. Close enough that you can see the new scar splitting his left eyebrow, the weariness carved into the lines around his mouth. The entire court watches - nobles leaning forward, servants lingering too long near your table, generals pretending not to stare. They all know what you know: the marriage was never consummated. Court law is clear. He can dissolve this with a word. Kael hasn't spoken to you since he entered the hall. He sits in silence, his gaze heavy and unreadable, while the feast roars around you both. Across the table, Theron watches you with open suspicion. Lysander smiles too warmly, his eyes calculating. And you - you sit perfectly still, heart hammering, waiting for your husband to decide if you remain his wife or become nothing at all.