Bound by Curse

The King who needed a Queen

Draven’s POV

"Your Majesty, you should smile."

"No."

Garrick walked beside me as we moved through the palace hall, his grin was so wide it looked painful. He was a giant of a man, broad as a door, and he had been my guard since we were boys. Today he looked like a child at a feast.

"Seven years," he said. "Seven years we have waited for a queen. The people are already singing in the streets."

"Let them sing."

"They are happy, my king."

I stopped walking. My hands closed into a fist inside my black gloves. "Listen to me, Garrick. I did not take this girl because I wanted her. I took her because the kingdom needs a queen, and I am tired of the old lords whispering behind my back."

"I know, but..."

"She will wear the crown. She will sit beside me but she will never mean anything to me." My voice dropped. "My heart will never be hers."

Garrick lowered his eyes. "I understand. But you made the right choice. A kingdom without a queen looks weak, even when its king is the strongest man alive. And I know why you waited so long. Because of what happened in your past..."

"Do not."

My voice cracked through the hall like a whip, and somewhere behind us, a servant dropped a tray.

Garrick bowed his head at once. "Forgive me."

I took a slow, deep breath. "I do not speak of that. You know this."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"With a queen or without one, I rule. Nothing will change that."

"Of course." He kept his head low, but I could see his small, sad smile.

I had walked out of that room like a coward before the sun came up.

***

Rebecca’s POV

"Hold still, Princess."

I stood in the middle of my room while three maids pinned a white and silver gown around me. The silk was heavy and soft. The most beautiful dress I had ever worn, and I felt nothing when looking at it.

Mira tied the last ribbon behind my back. "You are shaking."

"I did not sleep."

"I know." She hesitated. "You came back at dawn with mud on your dress. Did something happen?"

"No," I said too quickly. I touched my neck. Mira had hidden the marks with powder, and she had not said one word. I loved her for that.

But I could not stop seeing it. The knife on the ground. The sound of breaking bones. The calm face of the man who walked out of the mist. The stranger from the lodge.

How did he find me?

He had come at the exact moment I needed him, as if he had been following me. And I was so afraid that I ran without even saying thank you.

Heat crawled up my face. I remembered his mouth on my throat and his rough voice. Whoever he was, I had given him everything. And he had saved me anyway.

I turned. Isabella leaned in my doorway in a pale green dress, her arms crossed.

"You look lovely," she said. "Like a lamb dressed for the table."

"Leave, Isabella."

"I only came with news." She walked in and ran one finger along my veil. "I heard King Draven is very ugly, cold, like a stone statue. And old." She gave a small shiver. "I feel for you, sister. Imagine waking next to that every morning."

Mira's face went tight.

"They say he does not even like to be touched," Isabella went on, sweet as honey. "So maybe you do not need to worry about the wedding night. He will just stare at you with dead eyes."

Anger shot through my chest. and I felt like throwing her out of the window.

"Be careful," I said. "You are very interested in a man you call so terrible."

Her smile flickered. "I am only being kind."

A knock came. A young maid stood there, pale and breathless. "The King asks for both princesses. Now."

Isabella gave me one last bright, mean look. "Come, bride. Do not keep the beast waiting."

***

The throne room was full. Lords lined the walls in their best coats. At the far end stood my father, stiff in his crown. In front of him stood a man with his back to me.

Tall. Wide shoulders. A long black cape. Dark hair brushing his collar.

My father looked at me. His eyes were nervous. "Rebecca. Are you truly ready for this?"

I lifted my chin. "I am ready."

"Good." He turned. "Your Majesty. This is your bride."

The man did not move. The room was so quiet I heard a candle crack.

Then he turned around.

My breath left my body.

Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Eyes the color of old gold. A silver wolf ring on his hand.

It was him.

My knees went weak. Beside me, Isabella gasped and covered her mouth. Her face was white. She stared at him like she had never seen a man with such incredible features before.

He was beautiful. Not soft like a prince. He was hard and dark, like a storm you cannot stop looking at. Every lord in the room seemed smaller next to him.

He walked toward me slowly. Each step echoed. He stopped so close I could smell cold air and cedar and warm skin. My heart pounded so loud I thought the whole room could hear.

"Rebecca," he said, low, only for me. "It is time to come with me."

King Draven. The men in the alley had called him Your Majesty. Now I understood everything at once. The tavern. The lodge. The man who saved me. The ruthless king.

All one man.

My mind spun. Should I be afraid? Beasts hide from him. But he had touched me like I was something that could break. And I had slept in his arms.

I did not know if I should run or just fall right at his feet.

***

The wedding was fast. A priest. A few words. A cold ring pushed onto my finger. When the priest said, "You may kiss your bride," Draven only lifted my hand to his lips. His mouth barely touched my skin. His eyes never left mine.

It burned more than any kiss.

"Let us go," he said. His voice sounding colder now, sharp and impatient. He turned towards the door like a man who couldn't wait to leave. "Now."

"Your Majesty," my father said, bowing low. "She is yours."

Draven did not even look at him.

I followed. Garrick, huge in dark armor, walked behind us like a silent wall. Outside, the black carriage waited. Draven held out his hand without a word.

I took it. His fingers closed tight around mine.

The door shut. The wheels moved. The palace, my father, and Isabella grew small in the window.