Bound To The King She Hates

His First Move

Chapter 2

The wedding was over.

Ella stood in the middle of her new chambers and looked around slowly.

The room was big. Bigger than anything she had lived in during the four years she spent hiding. The bed was massive, dressed in deep red silk sheets. Fresh flowers sat on the table by the window.

It was beautiful.

She hated every single inch of it.

This was Augustine's palace. Augustine's kingdom. Everything here belonged to him. The walls. The floors. The flowers.

And now, on paper at least, her too.

She walked to the window without saying a single word.

Outside, the kingdom of Valdris stretched as far as she could see. Busy streets. Tall buildings. People who had no idea that their king was a murderer. People who loved him, cheered for him, called him great.

"He is not great," she whispered to herself. "He is a monster."

She pressed her forehead against the cold glass and closed her eyes.

Her father's face appeared immediately. His warm smile. The way he used to call her name in the mornings when he came to wake her up for breakfast.

"Ella, my sunshine."

That was what he always called her.

His sunshine.

She was not anyone's sunshine anymore. She had not been for four years. The girl who used to laugh easily and love freely had died the same night her father did. What was left was something harder. Something colder. Something that knew exactly what it had come here to do.

"I will not fail you, Father," she said quietly. "I promise."

A knock at the door made her spin around.

She quickly straightened her back and pulled her mask firmly into place. She had taken it off for only a few seconds. But even that was too dangerous here. She could not afford even one careless moment.

Not in this palace.

"Come in," she said.

The door opened and a young maid stepped inside with a nervous face. She bowed her head quickly.

"My Queen," she said. "His Majesty requests your presence at dinner."

Ella stared at her.

"Dinner," she repeated quietly. "Tonight. Already."

She had hoped for at least one night alone to gather herself. To breathe. To prepare for what was coming. But of course Augustine would not give her that. Of course he would move fast.

He was not a slow man.

"Tell His Majesty I will be there shortly," she said calmly.

The maid nodded and left.

Ella turned back to the window and took one long slow breath.

"First move, Augustine?" she thought. "Fine."

"I am ready."

---

The dining hall was enormous.

A long table ran down the center of the room. Tall candles burned from one end to the other. The walls were covered in the flags and banners of Valdris. Everything about this room was designed to make people feel small. To remind them how powerful this kingdom was.

How powerful its king was.

Augustine was already seated at the head of the table when Ella walked in. He was no longer in his ceremonial robes. His hair was slightly loose. He looked more relaxed than he had at the wedding.

But his eyes were exactly the same.

Sharp. Watching. Missing nothing.

He stood up the moment she entered.

That surprised her. She had not expected him to stand for her.

"My Queen," he said. His voice was calm and deep.

"My King," she replied.

She walked to her seat at the far end of the long table and sat down. A servant poured wine into her glass immediately. Another placed food in front of her.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

The only sounds in the room were the soft movements of servants and the quiet crackling of candles.

Ella picked up her fork. She would not be the first one to speak. She would not give him that.

"Did you rest?" Augustine asked.

She looked up at him across the long table.

"A little," she said. "It has been a long day."

"It has," he agreed.

He picked up his wine glass and looked at her over the rim of it. Like he was peeling back layers one by one. Looking for something specific underneath all of them. She kept her face completely still.

"You are not eating," he said.

Ella looked down at her untouched plate.

"I apologize," she said. "I am still nervous."

"You say that a lot," he replied.

"Say what?"

"That you are nervous." He set his glass down slowly. "I am starting to wonder if it is true or if it is just something you say to fill the silence."

The air in the room shifted immediately.

Ella felt it like a change in temperature. This was not small talk anymore. This was him testing her. Pushing to see how she would react.

She smiled softly.

"What bride would not be nervous, Your Majesty?" she said. "I have just married a man I barely know and moved into his palace on the same day. I think nervous is exactly the right word."

"And yet," he said, "you do not seem like someone who scares easily."

"You do not know me well enough to say that."

"No," he agreed. "I do not." He leaned back and crossed his arms. "That is exactly the problem."

Ella's heart was pounding but she kept her breathing steady. Kept her hands still on the table. Kept her eyes on his without looking away.

"Is it a problem?" she asked. "Most husbands and wives do not know each other well at the beginning. That is what marriage is for. To learn."

"Most marriages, yes," he said quietly. "But not all."

He stood up.

Ella's whole body went rigid.

He picked up his wine glass and walked toward her. Slowly. Each step completely controlled. The walk of a man who had never once felt afraid in his own space. He stopped right beside her chair and looked down at her.

She had to look up at him now. He was even taller this close. She could smell something warm and dark on him. Like wood smoke and something else she could not name.

She hated that she noticed.

"I am going to be honest with you," he said quietly.

"Please," she replied. Her voice came out steadier than she expected.

"Something about you does not add up," he said simply. "I do not know what it is yet. But I will figure it out."

Before Ella could answer he reached out.

His hand closed around her wrist.

Not roughly. But firmly. The grip of a man who wanted her to understand very clearly that he was not asking a question.

Ella froze.

Her whole body turned to ice.

Because his hand was wrapped around exactly the wrist where the blade was hidden in her sleeve.

She did not breathe. Did not move. Did not let a single muscle in her face change.

If he pressed even slightly harder he would feel it. The thin flat edge of the blade through the fabric. And then everything would be over.

"Are you accusing me of something, Your Majesty?" she asked. Her voice was perfectly calm.

"No," he said. His dark eyes did not leave hers. "Not yet."

Those two words dropped into her chest like stones.

He held her wrist for three more seconds that felt like three years.

Then he let go.

He reached out with the same hand and touched the edge of her mask with two fingers. Not enough to move it. Just enough to make a point.

"You never take this off," he said.

"It is a tradition where I come from," she replied.

"Yes." His eyes still did not leave hers. "You told me that."

The way he said it was very clear. He did not believe her. He had never believed her.

She held his gaze and said nothing more.

After a long moment he stepped back. He finished the wine in his glass and set it down on the table beside her.

"Get some rest," he said. "We have a long road ahead of us."

He walked out without looking back.

Ella sat completely still until the sound of his footsteps disappeared down the corridor.

Then she let out the breath she had been holding for the last ten minutes.

Her hands were shaking badly now. She pressed them flat against her thighs and stared at the untouched food in front of her.

He had touched her wrist.

He had touched the exact wrist where the blade was hidden.

"Too close," she thought. Her heart was still slamming. "He came way too close."

She pressed her hand against her sleeve carefully. The blade was still there. Still hidden. He had not felt it.

She was still safe.

For now.

But the way he had looked at her when he let go. Like he already knew the answer to every question he had not asked yet. Like he was just waiting for the right moment to say it out loud.

That look scared

her more than his hand around her wrist had.

She pressed her fingers against her mask to make sure it was firmly in place.

Then she stood up from the table.

"You want to play games, Augustine?" she thought as she walked out of the empty dining hall.

"Fine."

"I have been playing this game longer than you have."