Seducing Mr. Jerk

Chapter 6

The maids looked at each other, surprised by Dorian's strong demeanor. Warmth spread within my chest as he stood there, clad in his golden armor.

The armor shone with the pride of Ardotalia, polished to a gleam that reflected the golden candle light of the room. On his chest was the crest of Ardotalia, a proud eagle in mid-flight, its wings spread wide and its talons ready to strike. It was more than just a symbol; it was a statement of his duty, his honor, and now, his role as my personal guard.

I remembered the first time I met Dorian. I was six years old, wandering the gardens of the palace, lost in my own little world. He was eight, the son of the captain of the guard, and he carried himself with a seriousness that seemed too mature for his age.

"Are you a princess?" he had asked, his young voice filled with that of curiosity.

I had nodded, shyly tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Yes, but I'm not like the others," I had confessed, feeling the part of my illegitimacy even then. Even at a young age I knew it was an embarrassment.

Mistress daughter. The maids always said it, to my face.

A child’s face.

Dorian had smiled, a kind and open smile that had made me feel like I was just as much a princess as anyone else. "That doesn't matter. You're still a princess to me," he had said.

From that day on, Dorian became my shadow, my protector, and my friend. He was there through the taunts and the loneliness, a steady presence that reminded me I wasn't alone. And now, as I faced the darkest moment of my life, he was here. I remembered how, just an hour after the wedding, he had spoken to my father, insisting that he accompany me to Meridian.

His voice had been firm, his request non-negotiable. "She shouldn't be alone," he had said. "Not now, not with everything that's happening." My father, who rarely showed any concern, had simply nodded, giving Dorian his silent blessing.

As we sat in my chamber, the silence between us was a comfortable one, filled with years of shared experiences and unspoken understanding. Dorian had always been my rock, the one person who saw me for who I truly was, not just the title I bore or the bloodline I came from.

He had stood by me when others turned away, had laughed with me when I found small moments of joy, and had held me when I cried, thinking no one else cared. His loyalty never wavered, even when my world did.

Now, as the reality of Lavina's death settled like a heavy cloak around my shoulders, I knew that Dorian would be the one to help me carry the weight. He would stand by me as we faced the unknown, as we navigated the treacherous waters of court intrigue and royal duties.

In the darkest of times, Dorian was more than just a guard or a friend; he was a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the midst of chaos, there was someone who would fight for me, who would stand beside me, who would never leave me to face the darkness alone.

The maids remained looking at each other, that seemed to ticked Dorian off.

“What language of 'get out' don't you understand, or does your king consider the bride they just married?” Dorian's voice was sharp, his patience worn thin by the maids' reluctance to leave.

Yup, that was the Dorian who one doesn't like to get pissed off.

The maids looked at each other, they curtsied and quickly rushed out as if their tails were on fire.

As the door closed behind the maids, I looked down at the outfit they had chosen for me. It was a sheer, flowing gown that left little to the imagination, with slits up the sides that reached far too high for comfort. The fabric clung to every curve, the deep neckline plunging in a way that made me self-conscious. It was the kind of dress designed to entice, to draw the eye and hold it there, and I felt exposed and vulnerable in it.

Dorian sighed, his disapproval clear as he took in my appearance. "They dressed you like a slut. No respect for their women. Typical Meridians."

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling the chill of the room. "It's just a dress, Dorian," I tried to dismiss his concern, but my voice faltered.

"It's not just a dress, Isadora," he countered, stepping closer. "It's a statement. And it's not one you should be forced to make."

I met his gaze, finding solace in the anger that flared there on my behalf. "I don't have a choice," I whispered, the resignation heavy in my voice.

Dorian's hand reached out, his fingers brushing against the material of the gown as if contemplating tearing it away. "You always have a choice," he said firmly. "And I'll be damned if I let them parade you around like some trophy."

His protectiveness was a balm to the raw edges of my nerves. "What can we do?" I asked, the fight reigniting within me at his words.

"We find you something else to wear," he said, a plan already forming in his mind. "Something that respects the queen you are."

"Dorian please…" I started, my voice a mere whisper, but the words lodged in my throat, choked by the rising tide of emotions.

"What is this? This is not the Isadora I know. Is this because of Lavina's death or is there something else that you are not telling me?" Dorian's voice was gentle, probing, filled with concern.

He didn't know… he didn't know about my broken heart. Why I had willingly allowed myself to be a replacement bride. The façade I had maintained so carefully began to crumble, and the tears I had held back broke free, streaming down my face in a torrent of grief and regret.

I shook my head, unable to articulate the pain, the betrayal, the loss. "It's everything," I managed to say between sobs. "Lavina, Cole, my father... I feel so lost, Dorian."

He moved closer, his arms enveloping me in a warm embrace, “Cole…what did Cole do?”

“He…he…”

"So the reason why my new wife decided to ignore me was because of another man."