2
1327 Words
Erick
The room was too quiet.
Too damn quiet.
I stood by the tall arched window of the opulent civil affairs hall, watching the minute hand of the antique grandfather clock tick down with agonizing precision.
Twenty minutes had passed since the time set for my marriage ceremony.
Twenty long, insulting minutes.
I didn’t like waiting.
I never waited.
My eyes, a searing shade of silver-blue, glinted beneath the soft golden light of the chandelier, but their chill could freeze over the fiercest of hearts.
I stood tall, broad-shouldered, like a statue carved from marble and shadows, my presence commanding, my silence louder than any roar.
Even in stillness, I exuded the lethal grace of a predator, one that never had to bare its teeth to remind others it could tear them apart in a blink.
My black suit was tailored with precision. Italian silk, diamond cufflinks, a matte black tie, and still, nothing about me was soft. My aura, thick and tangible, wrapped around the room like smoke.
Dominant, suffocating, and cold.
“Where is she?” My voice came low, quiet, but it sliced through the silence like a blade.
My trembling assistant stood at the entrance and winced as if struck by lightning from my voice.
Liam. That was his name. I had employed him only three months ago, and so far, he had managed to survive...barely.
“I… Sire, I’m not sure—”
“You had one job, Liam,” I snapped, turning my full attention to the man. “One.”
Liam paled visibly under my scrutiny. “She was dressed, ready… but then we received news that she ran, Your Majesty. She went out the back door. We believe she fled the premises.”
My eyes narrowed, and the silence that followed was more terrifying than any outburst could have been. I turned back toward the window, jaw clenched.
“Of course, she ran,” I muttered. “Like the others.”
Even without looking, I knew Liam was holding his breath.
Most people did around me.
My presence was a punishment, my gaze a judgment.
The world feared me, and I gave it good reason to.
The stories about me weren’t exaggerated.
Cold. Cruel. Stoic. Charismatic. Dominant.
A king born without a heart. But the truth was far worse. Because if I did have a heart, it died a long time ago.
The only person I still gave a damn about was my mother. And even she was slipping through my fingers.
Queen Elizabeth Cheshire had been diagnosed with a rare degenerative blood disease, and her condition was deteriorating quickly.
The best healers in the realm have tried and failed to reverse the damage. She wouldn’t make it to the next winter solstice. And her only wish before she died was simple: to see her son married and settled.
The word ‘settled’ left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I hadn’t found my mate. That elusive connection the Moon Goddess promised her children.
I searched for mine, and came up empty-handed every time. The Elders were beginning to murmur about fate’s punishment.
A king without a mate? Unheard of.
So when my mother had asked me... no, I'd say she begged me to choose someone, anyone, and marry her… I finally relented, and now even that plan has collapsed.
I sighed, rubbing my temples, the beginning of a headache forming behind my eyes. I was about to turn and order Liam to cancel the ceremony when he suddenly let out a strangled cough.
“Sire…” Liam fidgeted. “We have another woman.”
I raised my brow.
“You can marry her and save time….”
I turned fully now, silver eyes locked on Liam with a flicker of interest. “Really?”
The woman who was said to have fled was arranged for me by my mother, and she was willing to go ahead with the marriage. I wonder why they always change their minds and flee at the last minute.
The woman who fled, Cynthia, was the fifth woman this month.
Liam swallowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
I walked towards him in slow, deliberate steps and took the black leather folder holding the marriage contract.
“Name?”
“Sophia,” Liam answered. “Sophia Miller.”
Something about that name tugged at the edge of my memory. The name sounded like I had heard it in passing before.
Well, Let’s see if she would also have a last-minute change of heart like the others.
However, when I turned to see her, everything in me paused.
She stood just beyond the doorway, speaking quietly with one of the clerks. Her dark brown hair cascaded down her back in natural waves, a few strands framing a face so delicate and painfully lovely that the air caught in my lungs.
Full lips painted a soft rose. Her eyes were wide, sorrowful, the color of twilight. And skin like porcelain, kissed faintly by the sun.
She wasn’t just beautiful.
She was… arresting.
Even in a simple pale dress and with faint traces of dried tears on her cheeks, she stood with a kind of quiet defiance, a core of steel beneath all that softness. Her presence drew the eye. She wasn’t trembling. She wasn’t hiding.
She had chosen this.
I didn't known what to expect from my impromptu bride, but I certainly wasn't expecting her to be by this.
The marriage happened quickly.
I didn’t speak a word during the ceremony.
I didn’t need to.
Everything was in order.
My gaze remained fixed on Sophia, watching her every subtle shift, the way she clutched the pen as she signed her name, how her lashes dipped when I leaned closer to do the same.
She didn’t shy away.
She didn't cower.
Interesting.
But the moment we were alone, and the documents were sealed, Liam approached me again. wide, frantic, lips quivering.
“My King…” he whispered, leaning toward my ear. “There’s something I must tell you. That woman…”
I didn’t take my eyes off Sophia. “Speak.”
“Miss Cynthia, the bride who escaped has been found." I waved. "Let her be. We already got a replacement." My eyes stared relentlessly at the Sophia. "That woman, Sophia, how did you get her to agree to this?"
It was surprising that she didn't have a last minute change of mind like the others.
"I didn't do anything Sire," he replied with an amusing smile. "She volunteered to take Miss Cynthia's place….” He paused and looked back at the woman. “…She heard us talking and offered herself.”
A long pause.
My lips twitched slightly. Not a smile. Never a smile. But something more than a smile.
“She offered?” I asked, voice dry.
“Yes, Your Majesty. She insisted.”
For a moment, I said nothing.
Then I stepped forward, gently placing a hand on the small of Sophia’s back and guiding her out of the building, down the marble stairs, and into the backseat of my sleek black Rolls Royce. She didn’t flinch at my touch.
Once the door shut and the privacy partition rolled up, silence settled between us.
I turned to face her.
“Why?”
Sophia blinked.
“Why did you volunteer to marry a man you didn’t know?” I clarified, my tone still emotionless, but sharp enough to cut steel. “You don’t know me. You don’t know my identity And yet, you came forward.”
Her shoulders squared. Her chin lifted. And for the first time in a long while, I felt something stir inside me.
Not affection.
But curiosity.
She met my gaze with unwavering determination.
“Because I have nowhere to go,” she said. “And you have no woman to marry.”
I narrowed my eyes.
Sophia leaned closer, the edge of her voice sharpening. “It's a fair deal.”
- Writer
