I Reborn to Save Her, She Loved Him

A brutal thunderstorm raged outside the castle, howling winds slamming repeatedly against the stained-glass windows with a deafening rattle. A guttural, agonized roar suddenly tore through the hush of the master bedroom, erupting from the plush velvet four-poster bed. Rowena, who had been sleeping on a thin blanket spread across the cold floor, lifted her head at the sound. A flicker of hesitation crossed her strikingly sharp, gorgeous features. "Ninth Prince?" It had been six months since their arranged noble marriage. Rowena had once commanded full authority over the border knight legion, but all her real power had been stripped by the king the moment she married the royal family's ninth prince. As for Alistair, the distinguished royal heir who had only ever had eyes for gentle, scholarly ladies, he'd been forced to wed this tough, battle-hardened woman from a prominent knight clan. The two couldn't stand the sight of each other, they bickered practically every day, and full-blown heated arguments broke out every three days like clockwork. They'd had another explosive fight that very day, and the prideful Alistair had kicked her to the floor to sleep yet again. When no answer came from the bed, she reached up and swept aside the heavy, intricately embroidered bed curtains. Alistair lay there, his face twisted into a deep frown, his entire body soaked through with cold sweat, as if he was enduring the most unbearable, searing pain imaginable. She furrowed her own brow and lifted her hand to check his temperature. Before her fingertips could even brush his skin, Alistair's eyes flew wide open. Rowena froze mid-movement and pulled her hand back sharply, her tone cold and distant. "Ninth Prince, I didn't mean to intrude—" She'd barely pulled her hand halfway back, barely gotten half the sentence out of her mouth. Alistair shot upright out of nowhere, clamping his hand tight around her wrist, his eyes flooding red in an instant. "Rowena?" he whispered, too stunned to believe his own eyes. He pressed his fingertips to the side of her neck, feeling the steady, thrumming beat of her pulse, then lifted his other hand to brush gently against her cheek. The warm, soft feel of her skin was completely, undeniably real. It wasn't a hallucination. This was real. How was this possible? His wife Rowena was supposed to have died in battle at the border fortress ages ago! Three years into their marriage, neighboring armies had launched a full-scale invasion. The court's old hereditary nobles were all cowardly good-for-nothings, not a single one of them daring to lead the troops to fight. Rowena, of all people, just a woman, had volunteered to head to the front lines. At the height of the war, the muddle-headed king had listened to slanderous lies and refused to send food and supplies for months. In the end, the entire 100,000-strong knight legion was drained of all stamina and suffered a total, catastrophic rout. That legendary female knight was lost to the battlefield forever. After Rowena's death, the enemy forces had pushed forward unimpeded, tearing straight through the royal capital's defenses. The year the dynasty fell, the king had collapsed from rage and grief and died soon after. As for him, the once distinguished, high-ranking ninth prince, he'd been shot through the heart by a barrage of enemy arrows. The once revered ninth royal heir had been left with nothing but a mangled corpse, tossed into a mass grave in the middle of a desolate field, left to be feasted on by biting insects and torn apart by feral stray dogs. He'd never in a million years thought the gods would give him a second chance at life. What was even more shocking? The first face he laid eyes on the second he clawed his way out of that death-soaked nightmare was Rowena's... Alistair's eyes shook wildly, his voice wavering as he asked, "Rowena, what year is it in the kingdom's calendar?" The woman standing in front of him jolted back half a step, putting clear distance between them. Rowena had zero clue what weird game this stuck-up prince was playing now. She said in a low, cool tone, "Year 10 of the kingdom. Did one bad nightmare scramble your brain so bad you can't even remember the year, Your Highness?" That cold, crisp voice hit his ears, and Alistair snapped back to reality in an instant. He'd been reborn three years earlier, back to the exact year they'd been married in their arranged union! His gaze drifted to the ragged thin blanket laid out on the floor, and his face went slack. In his past life, the king had forced this marriage on him, and he'd seethed with resentment over it from the start. He couldn't stand the sight of Rowena, and never once treated her with even a scrap of kindness. The only time they'd ever been close was when he was in the mood to call her over to "fulfill her duties as a noble wife". The second he was done with her, he'd kick her straight to the floor to sleep, and refuse to so much as glance at her again. For three whole years of marriage, he'd had the big soft bed all to himself almost every night, while Rowena curled up on the cold hard floor to rest. Those memories flooded back, and a sharp, bitter ache twisted in Alistair's chest. In his past life, the entire royal family had owed her more than they could ever repay. This time around? He was going to treat her right. He was going to make up for every last wrong he'd ever done her, twice over. No one else knew it, but he did. She was the bravest, most formidable woman in the whole world. She was the hero who had defended the entire kingdom, and the best wife any man could ever ask for. "Rowena, come sleep up here on the bed." Alistair softened his voice, calling her name so gently it was almost a murmur. Rowena had just been about to lie back down on the thin blanket on the floor. The second she heard those words, she froze stock-still. This was the first time Alistair had ever said her name in such a soft, warm tone. She turned her head to look at the head of the bed. Alistair was propped half-up against the velvet cushions, the corners of his eyes still pink, his shirtless upper body had lean, sharp, well-defined lines. And in his eyes? There was a soft, tender fondness she had never seen there before. A strange, unaccountable flutter flipped Rowena's stomach, and an uncontrollable wave of heat rose quietly to her chest. A dozen conflicting emotions flashed across her face, and she answered in a rough, hoarse voice, "Fine." She was never the type to cling to stuffy noble etiquette, or act all soft and delicate like other noble girls. Her personality was far bolder and more straightforward than most women of her station. It wasn't like this was the first time they'd shared a bed, either. But before, Alistair only ever let her climb up next to him when he wanted something. The second he was satisfied, he'd toss her aside like a useless trinket, leaving her to shiver through the rest of the cold night alone. They'd had a screaming, knock-down fight just that afternoon. For him to turn around and invite her to sleep on the bed of his own accord? That had never happened. As far as she was concerned, he just saw her as a convenient bed warmer he could call on whenever he felt like it. Nothing more. Rowena climbed onto the big bed with a frosty expression, leaned straight down and pressed herself on top of Alistair. Mimicking the moves of tavern hostesses, her soft hand drifted downward with practiced ease. The second her fingertips made contact, the scorching heat of his skin sent a full-body shiver through Alistair. Her warm breath, carrying a faint sweet scent, fanned lightly against his ear and the side of his neck. Alistair froze for a long, stunned beat before he snapped back to his senses. She had completely misread his intentions! His handsome face flushed bright red in an instant, and he scrambled to grab her wandering wrist. "That's not what I meant!" Rowena's face twisted with irritation. She sat firmly on his lower stomach, her features cool and completely unreadable. "You told me to get in bed, Your Highness. What other reason could there possibly be? Don't tell me you actually want to just sleep next to me like some regular, happily married noble couple?" "What's wrong with that?" Alistair asked, his tone dead serious. Rowena let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Oh, spare me. Just earlier today, you stood in front of every last servant in this castle and said you were going to annul our marriage to marry that famous female scholar who just aced her noble academy exams!"