The Princess's Guard ✔️

35

Word Count: 1942

~Kiva

A week passes and I hear nothing from Taven.

Good. He can listen.

Ark doesn't seem to share his propensity for keeping back, hidden. Although, he hasn't pushed me on the issue, nor has he brought Taven up.

Thankfully...It's been my focus all week to keep this mate issue out of my head.

So, when Caspian invites me back to his manor to go over what is going to occur at our wedding, I happily agree.

Anything is to keep my mind off Ark and Taven is a good thing.

"The ceremony will be outside," Caspian tells me, leading me into the backyard. It's a dreary sight out here, with the dark clouds that loom overhead and the lifeless garden that struggles to grow through the frost.

"A bit cold, don't you think?" I mumble, wrapping my coat tighter around myself.

I suppose on my wedding day my temperature will be the last thing that bothers me.

"It shouldn't be too long," he responds, breath clouding in front of him as he surveys the area.

Something seems off today. He's stiff, more reserved. When I arrived this morning he didn't greet me with a beaming smile, nor even much of an acknowledgment.

"How long is the wedding away now?" I ask.

"Two weeks. I want to make sure everything is as it needs to be," he muses, watching various staff flutter around, getting everything in order.

A tightness wraps around my ribs. I knew it would be soon, but two weeks isn't nearly enough time for me to...

To what? I don't even know anymore.

"Then we will be husband and wife." I say it more to hear the words aloud, to instil them in my mind. There is no backing away from this now.

Caspian's expression doesn't shift. "Yes, we will."

"Are you excited?"

Caspian has always been keen to marry me. His youthful approach to our relationship always made me feel guilty for being close to my mate. Maybe it's because he has always been so hopeful, so romantic.

But today, his deep blue eyes are as cold as the ground I stand on. He even looks a few years older with all this seriousness.

"Why would I be excited?" He questions.

"Oh. Well, you don't need to be. It's just since I was a little girl I dreamt of my marriage, my husband," I admit breathily.

He frowns. "We are Royals. Those dreams are pointless."

That stings. The tightness only strengthens, like a phantom grip on my lungs. I can feel the beginnings of panic, of my world starting to crumble down on top of me.

"It's nice to dream..." I mutter.

He slides his hands into his pockets. "Perhaps. But what you should be dreaming about is how you are best going to serve me and my people."

I twist, fully facing him now. This just went from depressing to infuriating.

"Serve? What does that mean?"

"I mean you are expected to be a good, giving wife," he exclaims with no tact at all. "You will be living in my home, after all."

I gape at him. I feel as though I've tumbled into another reality. Is this Caspian's stoic, cold twin brother? This isn't the man who has been courting me these past few months.