Princess Serra awoke to a crushing sense of dread.

  The world around her came into focus slowly, her mind swimming in a haze of pain and exhaustion. A dull ache throbbed at the back of her skull, the lingering consequence of the punch that rendered her unconscious. She groaned softly, shifting, only to feel the harsh bite of a rope wrapped tight around her wrists and ankles. She tried to break free of the restraint, but there was no give. It can only be an enchanted binding, woven with power beyond her understanding. Bound. Helpless. Her breath quickened as the cold realization settled over her like a suffocating weight.

  The throne room stretched before her in eerie silence, but it was not the grand and familiar hall she had known since childhood. The torches burned lower, casting long, flickering shadows that twisted unnaturally against the high walls. The air was thick, oppressive, heavy with the scent of blood and something far worse—despair.

  She and her mother, Queen Dora, knelt on the cold stone floor. The queen’s delicate chemise clung to her body, flimsy and torn, offering little in the way of modesty. Sweat and grime marred its once-pristine fabric, the remnants of their struggle evident in every crease. Dora’s regal composure was shattered, yet her posture remained unnaturally stiff—not in fear, but in something deeper. Something unspoken.

  Serra, stripped to nothing but a breast band and a simple loincloth, shivered as she knelt beside her. The chill of the stone seeped into her skin, but it was nothing compared to the numbing horror coiling in her gut.

  Her gaze followed her mother’s upward, and her breath caught in her throat.

  The rogue wizard sat upon the throne.

  He lounged there as though he always had, his presence unsettlingly casual. Draped in dark attire that bore no royal insignia, he made no effort to feign legitimacy. He did not need to. The weight of his conquest was evident enough in the display before him.

  Beside the throne, leaning as if it had merely been set aside for convenience, was the Gae Bolg. The legendary spear of her father. A weapon that had once been a symbol of their kingdom’s strength, of her father himself. Now, it rested in the hands of this usurper.

  And at the foot of the dais, laid out for all to see, were the severed heads of her two brothers.

  Serra’s breath hitched, the room spinning. Her vision blurred, not with exhaustion, but with horror. Her older brother—Aiden, who had governed the Bosco territories in their mother's name—stared forward with sightless eyes. Her younger brother, Eann, still a child, barely ten years old, looked eerily peaceful in death, as though he had not even understood what was happening before it came for him.

  A low, keening sound built in her throat. She wrenched against her magical bindings, desperate to move, to do anything, but whatever spell it wore held fast. Panic clawed at her chest, bile rising as she fought against the inevitable truth settling in.

  They were gone. Her brothers. Her family. Her father’s legacy—shattered.

  The stories she had been raised on, the tales of her father’s triumphs, the unshakable belief that their rule was ordained and just—it all crumbled in an instant. She had idolized her father. Had believed in his power. Had thought their family untouchable.

  How could one mage prove her wrong...

  He leaned forward slightly, watching her with an expression of quiet amusement, as if studying the way she unraveled before him. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost affectionate.

  “It has long been finished, princess.”

  She flinched at the sound of it. His voice did not rise with cruelty, did not gloat as she had expected. It was measured, calm, like a man delivering simple truths rather than reveling in his own triumph.

  He gestured idly to the heads at his feet. “Every one of Radley’s bastards is dead. And his royal kids are no more. Well, that is except for you.”

  Serra’s pulse pounded in her ears. She wanted to scream, to deny him the satisfaction of seeing her break, but the words would not come. Bastard children. That was what he called them. As if they had been nothing. As if they had not lived, had not mattered. As if her father’s sins had marked them all for death long before they had ever drawn breath.

  A cold, paralyzing horror settled into her bones. This man—this villain—had already erased her family from existence. With no remorse. No hesitation. He had murdered her brothers as easily as one might discard a broken trinket.

  Her mind reeled, desperate to understand, to find a reason, a justification—but there was none. There was only the usurper, seated upon her mother’s throne, watching as she crumbled beneath the weight of his actions.

  He exhaled softly, then turned his gaze toward Queen Dora. His expression remained unreadable, but his next words cut through the air like a blade.

  “But this,” the ursurper said, motioning toward her mother, “this is only the beginning.”

  Serra’s eyes darted to her mother. Queen Dora, still kneeling, had a faraway look in her eyes, as though she were not entirely present in this moment. She too had been bound, though her posture was far less defiant than her daughter’s. The Queen’s eyes met her daughter’s briefly, but there was no apology in them—only the barest hint of something else. Guilt? Perhaps. Or was it simply resignation?

  The rogue raised a hand, and a dark energy swirled at the tip of his finger. The magic was thick, suffocating. "Now," he said, "it’s time for your mother to tell the truth."

  Before Serra could even protest, the wizard pointed his finger and whispered an unintelligible word under his breath. A subtle shift passed over Queen Dora’s face—her poised, regal mask cracking as if something deep within her had been unshackled. She gasped, eyes widening, then eyes glossed over as her body sagged, her spine curving under an invisible weight.

  Serra watched in horror as her mother—who had always stood so tall, so composed—transformed before her eyes into something lesser, something hollow.

  "Tell her," he commanded, his voice as cold as steel. "Tell her why you betrayed me."

  Queen Dora’s lips parted, but when she spoke, her voice was eerily flat, as though the words did not belong to her.

  "Radley… he told me you were a threat to my rule, to the monarchy," she confessed, her tone devoid of the fire she once wielded as queen. "He said you would be seen as the kingdom’s savior. He feared the people would turn to you, that they would see you as the true hero. And if they did… they would make you King."

  Serra felt the floor tilt beneath her. The truth—the cold, ugly truth—settled like lead in her chest. She had always known her mother to be distant, more sovereign than motherly, but this? This was not the will of a queen. This was the act of a pawn—her mother, a mere puppet dancing on the strings of her scheming father.

  But the revelation didn’t stop there.

  Queen Dora swallowed hard, her gaze flickering toward Edo before dropping to the ground. A ghost of something—shame, regret—crossed her features.

  "And when I tried to seduce you," she whispered, voice barely audible, "you rejected me."

  Serra's breath caught.

  The queen hesitated, as if trying to hold back words she no longer had control over. Her hands clenched into fists. "I thought that you…" Her voice wavered, breaking under the weight of memory. "I thought you did not want me as a woman. That I was beneath you. And so I believed him. I believed Radley."

  The confession struck Serra like a mace to the ribs.

  Radley. Her father. The man she had admired, had looked up to, had worshiped as the foundation of her world. The same man who had betrayed his comrade, his own wife, just to play at hero.

  While warring all over the continent.

  And her mother—her mother had played a part in it all.

  Serra clenched her hands at her sides, nails biting into her palms, her body screaming to react, to do something, but she was frozen, bound by the weight of the unraveling truth.

  Then Queen Dora turned fully to the conqueror, her expression shifting from forced confession to something even more desperate, something darker.

  Her next words shattered what little remained of the illusion that she was still a queen.

  "I offer myself to you, Edo," she said, her voice hollow but unwavering. "And my daughter as well. In exchange for our lives, for our status—spare us. Take us both. We are yours."

  Serra recoiled in horror, her breath rushing out in a choked, disbelieving gasp.

  No.

  No, she hadn't just heard that.

  Her mother—her own mother—was bargaining away their dignity, their very bodies, as if they were nothing more than coin to be traded. Survival at any cost, even if that cost was her own flesh and blood.

  Edo regarded her, silent, unreadable, like a predator considering whether its prey was worth the effort. A long, dreadful moment passed before he finally spoke.

  "Hmm... you may have been Radley’s queen," he said, his voice slow, deliberate, "but now you’re nothing."

  Queen Dora flinched.

  His gaze flicked to Serra. A calculating smirk touched his lips. "Your daughter, however… can take your place." He let the words settle, then turned back to Dora, his tone turning cruel. "But you? You will be my bitch."

  The words cut through the air like a whip, harsh, merciless.

  And Queen Dora—former queen, former ruler of a kingdom—accepted them.

  With a strangled breath, she fell to her knees before him. Her trembling hands pressed to the ground as she bowed low, forehead touching the floor at his feet.

  Then, to Serra’s utter horror, she leaned forward and kissed the polished leather of his red shoes.

  The sight turned Serra’s stomach.

  This was her mother. The woman who had given her life. The woman who once held court with unshakable authority. Now, she groveled like a beggar, offering herself up like chattel, like she had never been anything more.

  Serra’s world was crumbling, piece by piece, leaving behind nothing but cold, brutal reality.

  And she had no idea how to survive in it.

  * * *

  Edo watched as Princess Serra stirred, her lashes fluttering before she blinked awake. He could see the moment realization struck her—a tightening in her breath, a sudden tensing of her limbs, a frantic jerk against the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles.

  A futile effort.

  The enchanted bindings he had conjured—woven into his Rope Trick spell—held firm. It was amusing, really, to watch her struggle, to see that flicker of defiance in her eyes only to be smothered by the weight of helplessness. Serra was a warrior, raised on the ideals of honor and strength. And now, she was bound at his feet, powerless.

  She was beautiful, despite her defeat.

  The wear and tear of battle did little to diminish the regal air about her. Even stripped of her finery, clad in little more than a breast band and loincloth, she carried herself with an innate dignity. He could see the resemblance to her mother—the same striking features, the same fire, though Dora’s had long since faded into something else. A flickering candle against a storm.

  Dora knelt beside her daughter, her torn chemise clinging to her form, sullied by dirt, sweat, and failure. Once, he had seen her as something untouchable. He had placed her on a pedestal, admired her poise, her beauty, her charm. But now, seeing her as she truly was—reduced to desperation, trembling as she awaited his next words—he found himself wondering why he had ever held her in such regard.

  She had never been untouchable.

  Perhaps the fault had been his own. Perhaps he had been too blind, too naive, to recognize the truth at the time.

  Edo had expected Dora’s confession to be revealing, but not quite in this way. Betrayal was one thing—he had long since made peace with that—but her reasoning, the pitiful desperation woven into her words, was something else entirely. Radley had feared him, seen him as an obstacle towards his aims. That part Edo understood. That part made sense enough. That man had always been a brute first, however my presence deterred him away from acting out.

  But the Queen…

  Dora betrayed him because he had 'rejected' her.

  As he stood there, silent, watching her unravel, Edo felt something almost resembling amusement twist in his chest. He should have seen it. In the quiet moments he won on the hell world, he spent reflecting on his time in hers, and the thought did come to him more than once. Subtle glances, lingering touches, words that had carried an edge of something more. He had dismissed them then, uncertain, unwilling to entertain the possibility. But now, after her confession—after she had been forced to spill the truth under the weight of his magic—he had his answer.

  And he—young, foolish, and not uninterested—just did not pick up on it at all.

  But how much would things have changed if he had? It was enough to even make him question his current course. However all that suffering in the hell world cannot be undone.

  So hearing her say this now did not change anything.

  Her confession, her regret, her pathetic attempts to barter her own daughter in exchange for survival—it didn’t stir even an ounce of sympathy in him. If anything, it only reaffirmed what he already figured: Dora was nothing without the power she was born into, the crown she clung to and now, with nothing left, she would sell whatever she had left to save her ass.

  She was useful, to some extent. Serra was necessary. And so, by extension, Dora had value. But not in the way she wanted.

  He let the silence stretch, watching the horror dawn on Serra’s face, the slow, creeping realization of what her mother had become. Then, finally, he spoke.

  "Hmm... you may have been Radley’s queen," he said, his voice slow, deliberate, "but now you’re nothing."

  Dora flinched, the last vestiges of her pride crumbling before him.

  His gaze flicked to Serra. A calculating smirk touched his lips. "Your daughter, however… can take your place."

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  He let the words settle, watching the ripple of reactions pass between them. Then he turned back to Dora, his tone turning cruel. "But you? You will be my bitch."

  It was a sentence. A judgment. And like a condemned woman, she accepted it. With a strangled breath, she fell to her knees, pressing her trembling hands to the ground, bowing low at his feet. And then, to Serra’s utter horror, Dora leaned forward and kissed the polished leather of his nikes.

  Edo looked down at her, expression unreadable, thoughts already moving past her submission. She would serve a purpose, for now. But his plans did not change. Serra was still the key, and Dora? Dora was only a reminder of how fragile power truly was.

  His plan remained the same.

  But what interested him most now was the way his little trick had shattered the princess’s armor more than he had expected.

  It wasn’t the confession of betrayal alone that had done it—it was the way her mother had pleaded. Not with deception, not with carefully measured words meant to manipulate, but with raw, selfish desperation. The truth spell had stripped away her ability to weave any lies told, leaving her exposed in a very raw undignified way.

  Queen Dora was truly that self-serving.

  He had suspected it, to a degree, perhaps, but for her own daughter to hear it confirmed—to hear her own mother offer them both up in exchange for survival—had broken something in her. He saw it in the way she trembled, the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, as if she could no longer bear the weight of what was unfolding before her.

  Edo allowed the silence to stretch, savoring the moment, before he spoke again.

  “Then let us settle this properly,” he said, his voice even, measured. “Princess Serra. You will marry me. It is the most efficient way to cement my rule.”

  Serra’s head snapped up, her eyes burning with renewed fury. “No,” she spat, without hesitation. “I would rather die.”

  Edo chuckled, shaking his head. “I will not kill you, princess. That would be a waste.”

  He leaned forward slightly, watching her closely, watching as the horror in her expression deepened with every passing second.

  “You will marry me,” he said again, slower this time, letting the weight of inevitability settle upon her. “Whether you want to or not.”

  Serra’s breath hitched. Her gaze flickered to her mother, to the broken woman kneeling at his feet, and he saw the last remnants of resistance within her shudder.

  The pit in her stomach must have felt bottomless.

  * * *

  Two months had passed since Edo claimed her mother's throne. She had watched his rise to power with disgust and helplessness, the kingdom falling to his might in ways she still couldn’t fully comprehend. Her father, Radley, got branded the “False Hero”, his legacy tainted and torn apart, and her mother, Queen Dora, had lost herself in the the wake of this usurpation. For over a month, Serra had been trapped in the royal quarters, an unwitting witness to it all, as her own pride in family and legacy crumbled to pieces. Exile or execution had seemed like the only dignified options left. And now, it seemed, Edo had come to confront her with an offer—one that he believed would break her defiance.

  He was standing before her now, her husband in name, but her jailer all the same. The atmosphere was thick with tension. The walls of the chamber felt like they were closing in around her.

  This was an ultimatum, he demanded. Her last chance.

  Serra had spent the time since her father's death sharpening her resolve. She was no longer the naive princess who had once believed in the righteousness of her mother’s rule. Of her father's heroism. No, she seen too much now, knew the bitter truth of what had happened. The betrayal, the lies, and the rise of this man—Edo—who now stood in front of her with his cold, calculating gaze.

  Edo broke the standing silence between them first, his voice smooth but with a certain coldness that Serra had come to despise. “Princess, the time has come to put an end to this farce. You’ve held out for something—exile, execution. You believe you might find salvation in one of these ends. You won't. But you can't see. I offer something more.”

  She looked at him, her expression a mixture of defiance and contempt. “What could you possibly offer me now, my King?” She spat his title like venom, but there was something in her eyes—a flicker of curiosity, a small, dangerous spark that recognized this moment as a turning point.

  “I’m offering you a choice,” he said, stepping closer, his tone still smooth. “I’ll grant you some conditions and in return, you will agree to stop with this unwilling nonsense. You will have your mother's crown back and a place in the future of this kingdom.”

  Serra’s heart pounded in her chest. The audacity of him—offering her terms, as though he were the one in control. Perhaps he was, but beneath her anger there was something more: the cold realization that perhaps this was her only way forward. If she wanted any chance at power or respect out of this union, then it might be gained here. She would not live a bird in his gilded cage.

  “If I were to consent,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “Then I will set the terms.”

  Edo’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, allowing her the space to continue. She stood tall, meeting his gaze without flinching.

  “The first condition,” she began, her voice firm, “is that you will always treat me with the respect and dignity that is due to my position as ranking queen. You will not use me as a pawn in your political games. I will not be made your puppet.”

  Edo’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. “Agreed. That’s reasonable.”

  She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a smile. “The second condition is a more personal one. I demand that our household be led by me. There will be no room for polygamy or illegitimate heirs. Our marriage will be one of mutual understanding in that affair. I will not allow the corrupt practices that ruined my mother’s reign to touch mine.”

  For a brief moment, Edo’s gaze flickered with something unreadable, but his composure remained unbroken. “I’ll agree to that as well. But, you must understand, since your refusals, I shared some intimacy with your mother. You will have to make an exception for her.”

  Serra's eyes hardened to his sly appeal, the bitterness in her heart at a boiling point. She had expected this. She knew this. She had already accepted that her mother had been reduced to a mere pet in Edo’s revenge, but that didn’t mean she would ever fully accept it. Still, she nodded, though the words tasted sour on her tongue. “Very well. But her status will be restored. And know this, Edo: I will never forgive the way you’ve debased my mother.”

  Edo’s smile was thin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I never expected you to,” he replied. “What is your third condition?”

  Serra took a step closer, her presence now commanding. “The third condition,” she said, her voice unwavering, “is that my mother and I will have a voice in the governance of this kingdom. Even if we do not sit on your official council, our counsel will be listened to—especially concerning matters of state. We will not be silenced.”

  Edo’s gaze flickered with a hint of frustration, but he nodded again, slowly. “That is... a reasonable request,” he said, though there was an edge to his tone now. “Very well. I will listen to you both. Your mother will regain her titles and have a place of governance in this kingdom’s future, as will you, as my queen.”

  Serra held his gaze, her heart steady. This was her moment, and she had seized it. Her terms were simple, but they carried weight going forward. Respect, equality in the marriage, and influence in the kingdom’s affairs—these were not some unjust demands. They might serve as a building block to shape her kingdom's future for the better. Even with a tyrant at the helm. And if Edo wanted her by his side, he would have to prove he could live by them.

  Edo studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his tone measured but with a quiet approval. “I accept those terms, Serra. You will have your respect, your place in this kingdom, and a voice in its rule. You and your mother will be pillars of my new reign.”

  She didn’t smile, didn’t show the satisfaction of victory. She simply nodded, her heart still heavy but her resolve stronger than ever.

  “I’ll hold you to your word, Edo,” she said, her voice cold. “But know this—if you betray me, I will make you regret it. I don't know how. But I will.”

  Edo’s smile remained thin, but now it was laced with something else. “I have no intention of betraying you, my Queen. Together, we will rebuild this kingdom—stronger, more united. You will help shape its future.”

  And just like that, with her demands met, Edo had secured his marriage to the princess. But it was clear that their relationship would be anything but conventional. The kingdom of Andalus now rested on the fragile balance between them, a balance that would determine the fate of the crown—and perhaps even the future of the entire continent.

  * * *

  The chamber was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting long shadows along the walls. The heavy curtains were drawn, and the air smelled faintly of incense—an aroma that had been carefully chosen to create the perfect ambiance. Yet, for all the meticulous attention to detail, Serra’s heart felt like a cold stone lodged deep within her chest.

  Edo had really left her no choice. Her demands on the terms of marriage were mostly a bluff. Whether the power balance shifted at all, even tied to his rule, could not be seen for better or for worse. For now anyways.

  But now came the final step: their consummation. It would not be an act of love, nor was it even an act of duty. It was a necessity, a political transaction. A binding ritual that would seal their marriage, solidify his claim to the throne, and ensure her own power would not slip away in the face of his overwhelming power.

  Serra stood before the full-length mirror in the chamber, her reflection a sharp contrast to the woman she had once been. Gone was the soft, youthful princess who had dreamt of a better future. In her place stood a woman hardened by betrayal. But her resolve was more set in stone for it. She wore the finest gown, a regal dark red fabric embroidered with gold, yet it felt like nothing more than a cage. The delicate lace of the bodice and the flow of the skirt were all ornamental, a display of status—but beneath it, she was a prisoner of her own making.

  Edo’s words echoed in her mind: "We will rebuild this kingdom..." But she knew what that really meant: his kingdom, his power, his rules. Her role would be that of a queen in name alone. She had accepted that, for now.

  The door to the chamber creaked open, and she straightened. Edo entered, his figure framed by the doorway. He was dressed in simple yet elegant robe, but it was his presence that commanded attention, his frame exuding an air of immense authority. His gaze swept over her—slow, assessing—before he met her eyes with a calm, almost detached expression.

  But it wasn’t just him who had entered. Behind him, in a simple but regal gown, stood her mother. The transformation was stark. Gone was the collar and leash that had once bound the former Queen to her conqueror, the symbol of her degradation. In their place, Dora wore a simple gown of rich burgundy. Her mother appeared as regal as she remembered her prior, her eyes betraying a quiet strength that Serra had not seen since the usurpation.

  Serra stood frozen, her heart tightening at the sight of her mother, who, despite everything, still held a measure of dignity in her view. Dora’s face softened as she met her daughter’s eyes, and for the briefest moment, the two women shared a silent understanding—a shared history of pain, loss, and resignation.

  Dora’s gaze flickered to Edo, who stood near the bed, watching the exchange with the faintest trace of satisfaction. He had kept his promise to her mother, restoring some semblance of her former status as Queen, but even with the restored finery, the once-proud woman was now something far different from who she had been.

  Edo gave a slight nod, his demeanor composed, and then quietly exited the room, closing the door behind him. His departure left the two women alone, but the silence between them felt different now. It was not just the silence of two women who had once shared a close bond—it was the silence of two women caught in the same web, now forced to navigate the same fate.

  Dora took a few steps toward her daughter, her hands folding neatly in front of her. Her expression was gentle, yet filled with a quiet sadness. She was the mother, but in many ways, Serra had become the stronger one.

  “Serra…” Dora’s voice was soft, but it carried the weight of everything unspoken between them. She reached her arms out, and without hesitation, Serra stepped into her embrace. Her mother’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tightly, as though this would be the last time she would be able to hold her like this.

  “I wish you the best, my darling girl,” Dora whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “May you have the strength to lead this kingdom and keep your heart intact. You’ve become someone far stronger than I ever thought possible.”

  Serra closed her eyes as her mother’s embrace tightened. She had always imagined this moment would be different—full of joy, perhaps even a sense of celebration. But now, it felt like a final farewell. Dora’s touch was tender, yet the words, though filled with motherly love, only served to remind her of how much they had both lost.

  The hug lingered for a moment longer before Dora slowly pulled away. She reached up to gently cup Serra’s face in her hands, looking into her daughter’s eyes as if to burn the image of her into her mind. There was a sadness there, a sense of resignation, but also a quiet pride.

  “Take care of yourself, my Queen. I may not be able to protect you as I once did, but I will always be here,” Dora said softly, her voice firm despite the wavering emotion beneath it.

  Serra nodded, though she couldn’t find her voice. She felt as though she were caught between two worlds: the past that her mother represented, and the future she was being forced into, bound by the choices that had been made for her.

  With one final, lingering glance, Dora turned toward the door. Her regal gown trailed behind her, the fabric shimmering softly as she moved. Just as she reached for the handle, Edo re-entered the room. His presence filled the now open space, strong and commanding. He had likely been watching all along, waiting for this moment to interject himself.

  Dora paused for a moment, then, with a soft sigh, approached Edo. Without a word, she bowed low, her head dipping in respect as she grasped his hands with her own, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. With reverence, she brought his hands to her lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the backs of his palms.

  “Thank you, your Majesty,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “For your mercy. For my dignity.”

  Edo gave her a sharp nod, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, as if weighing something in the silence between them. When he spoke, it was with calm authority, his voice steady but carrying the weight of finality.

  "You may leave now, Dora."

  Dora stood slowly, releasing his hands and giving him one last, long look—an unspoken moment shared between them. She then turned to the door, the movement graceful but filled with a quiet sadness.

  She stepped into the hallway, the heavy silence following her, and closed the door behind her with a soft, almost reluctant click.

  The chamber was still, and for a moment, Serra stood frozen, the weight of her new life settling in around her. The quiet left in her mother's wake felt profound, a stark reminder of all that had changed, all that had been sacrificed. The weight of the world seemed to settle onto her shoulders all at once, the pressure of her new life, her new role, and the overwhelming responsibility she had accepted.

  Serra stood her ground, her chin high. She would not let this man see her weakness, not now. Not ever.

  Edo let the moment of silence between them grow. Neither spoke. His eyes lingered on her, and for the first time, there was something softer in his gaze, a hint of the desire he had been careful to suppress during their discussions. He crossed the room toward her, his footsteps measured but deliberate.

  “I've kept my word,” he said, his voice low but steady. “And now it’s time to fulfill your end.”

  His words felt like cold steel against her skin, but she forced herself not to react. There was no going back now. She had made her choice. She had to see it through.

  Edo remained still for a moment longer after reaching her. His eyes locked onto hers as he slowly began to remove his robe, the sash opening to reveal his full nakedness, shedding it off and to the side with one fluid motion.

  Serra stiffened, her breath catching in her throat as she watched him undress so effortlessly before her. Her face flushed a deep shade of crimson, her eyes darting away but unable to fully avert from his naked body. He was handsome enough with his dark hair and eyes, tall enough, his white skinned tanned, with a body lean and toned like iron. And his member...

  Serra’s heart pounded in her chest at the size of it, her hands trembling as she instinctively clenched them into fists at her sides. Her breath was shallow, her mind caught between confusion, defiance, and an undeniable stirring within her. The reality of the situation hit her all at once—the raw, tangible truth of the power he held over her.

  When he stood before her, fully naked, the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air. Edo regarded her with a quiet confidence, his gaze unwavering. His strength here was undeniable, and unapologetically exposed, yet it was his eyes—dark, intense—that held her captive.

  "You've been given the position of queen," he said, his voice low and rich with authority. "Now, you must truly understand what that entails."

  Serra felt her pulse quicken, her body stiffening even further as she fought to steady herself. She could feel the heat rising in her face, the tension mounting in the silence between them. The room seemed to close in around her as she tried to find her voice, but it remained caught in her throat.

  Edo’s gaze never wavered as he stepped closer to her, his presence overwhelming, his power palpable. The weight of the situation pressed down on Serra, and she found herself unable to move, trapped by both his gaze and the shifting nature of their dynamic.

  With a final, deliberate step, Edo reached out to gently touch her chin, lifting her face toward his.

  Edo stepped closer, his hand lifting to gently graze her cheek. The touch was unexpected—gentle, almost tender—but it made her stomach tighten with something far less pleasant. He had never shown this side of himself before, not openly. It was calculated, she knew that much. But still, there was something unsettling in the way he touched her, as if he were tasting the air before committing to the rest of the rite.

  “I’ll not force you, Serra,” Edo murmured, his voice warm with a trace of something dangerous. “This is our moment. You don’t have to fear me. This marriage, this kingdom—it’s yours as much as it is mine. But you have to accept me fully.”

  Serra’s heart hammered in her chest, and she fought the urge to recoil. She had never been naive, but the weight of her decision bore down on her now, and she could feel the sweat condense in her pores, the heat in her cheeks. The truth was, she feared him—not just for what he was capable of, but for what he might make her become. The darkness that had been seeded in her heart over the past months was growing, and she feared it might consume her. But there was no way out. Not now.

  Her hands, which had been stiff by her sides, slowly moved to the laces of her gown. Her fingers shook slightly, but she steadied them, drawing the fabric away from her body. She kept her gaze firmly fixed on Edo, not allowing herself to show any more vulnerability. She would not allow him to see how much this moment unsettled her.

  Edo’s eyes softened ever so slightly as he watched her movements, and then, as though satisfied by her actions, he took a step closer, his hands reaching for her waist, guiding her toward the large, opulent bed that dominated the room.

  With each movement, Serra could feel the weight of her decisions crashing over her, but she stood firm. There was no room for hesitation, not now.

  Edo’s touch was firm but not harsh as he gently pushed her back onto the bed, his hands lingering at the sides of her waist before drawing away as though giving her the space she needed. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, assessing, before he slid into the bed beside her, his presence looming over her like an immovable force.

  This was it—the final step.

  Serra closed her eyes, taking a breath, forcing herself to remain calm. She was the queen now, even if it was a title that rang hollow. She would play her part—just as she had played every other role thrust upon her.

  Edo’s hand found her jaw again, tilting her face toward his. His gaze, though intense, was unreadable. He was a man of action, a man who controlled everything around him. And now, he was controlling this moment as well.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, his voice like velvet, though his words felt more like a command than a promise.

  Serra couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through her body, but she refused to let him see it in her eyes. She had to be the one in control now. She set the terms, and she would make him keep them. But if there was any part of her that could still survive the darkness he had placed her in, she would not let it die right here.

  Slowly, she reached out, her hand brushing against his chest. Pushing him back to mount him.

  "This way," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside her. "But know this, my King—when this is all over, we will both know who really sits the throne."

  Edo’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flash of something else in them, something different. For just a moment, she could see him reevaluating everything about her.

  “Yes, my Queen,” he murmured, and with that he leaned back. In the hours to come, two worlds shifted as their union was sealed in more ways than one.